Post by Aldebaran on Sept 23, 2008 13:21:18 GMT
I understand if you're to busy to bother with these, but I thought I should post them all the same.
I entered a writing contest at my library this month. Here are the entries. (One of them you may recognize because It's based off my fanfic, but... blendered a bit.) I threw in tiny DW references in all of them. Can you spot them?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DOMINIQUE AND THE CHESS HOBGOBLIN
There's something to be said about the goblin. They've gone by many names and taken many forms: The troll under the bridge, the mischievous "fairy folk", Gollum from "The Lord of the Rings". This dark and magical creature has particular characters traits that allow it to be identified in any tale of myth. They're usually solitary creatures that are either guarding something of great value or possess such an item themselves. But in order to obtain said object, one must first engage the creature in a match of sorts. Perhaps a riddle contest, perhaps a battle of wits, perhaps combat, or in Alonsy's case, a game of chess.
This is where we begin our tale.
"You tell me I have a problem of sorts, but you won't specify to me what it is." Dominique peered into the looking-glass and asked again. "What must I do to achieve supreme happiness for life, and where must I go to do it?"
The looking glass narrowed it's eyes at him and asked, "Why do you want supreme happiness in the first place? Perhaps a life of toil, hardship, and misery wouldn't be a bad thing if you apprached it with a sense of optimisim."
Dominique scowled and pointed a finger at the face of the looking-glass. "Look you," he said, "I didn't pay a wizard an ungodly amount of money to buy a potion to grow wings so I could fly across 30 miles of barren desert wasteland, tear them off and feed them to a family of crocodiles as payment to ferry me across the bottomless lake of utopia just to ask you how I should approach my current situations and what attitude I should approach it with." after catching his breath, he resumed to quarrel with the looking-glass with the same passionate fury he began with. "I asked you specifically what I must do to obtain supreme happiness and how to do it."
"Well maybe I don't want to tell you."
"Well why not?!"
"Well maybe you didn't deposit the required 25 cents."
Dominique glanced at the coin slot and frowned. "Yes I did. It says right there. Please deposit 25 cents to ask the all-knowing looking-glass a question."
"Yes..." agreed the looking-glass, "...but it's an additional 25 cents to receive an answer."
Dominique, now feeling cheated and very grumpy, reached into his pocket to find another quarter. He felt around, located one, separated it from a half-melted skittle, and deposited it into the coin slot.
"Ahhhhh..." sighed the looking-glass, "...that's more like it."
"There. You got your stupid quarter. Now tell me how to achieve supreme happiness."
"Very well." The looking-glass closed it's eyes as if it were submerging into a deep meditation. It wrinkled it's brow and let out a deep hum. The hum floated through the halls and resonated off the castle walls.
Coincidentally, an elderly retired web-master on a nearby mountaintop was also letting out a hum at the percise same pitch and frequency as the looking-glass. He was not aware that either the looking-glass nor the poor, cheated human named Dominique existed, but he did enjoy a good hum in the afternoon. There is nothing in the world quit like a good afternoon hum.
But getting back to our friends Dominique and the looking-glass, after a few moments, the looking-glass ceased it's humming and it's eyes opened wide as though it were still partially in a trance.
"Dominique..." it began, "In order for you to achieve supreme happiness..."
"Yes?"
"...you need..."
"Yes?"
"...you need..."
"Yes?"
"...an onion."
Dominique didn't respond right away. For the longest time he just stood there with his mouth hanging open like some great Asian carp. But after a while, he spoke.
"...an onion?" he squeaked, "That's it? Is that really it? An onion?"
"Of course." The looking-glass stared at him quite calmly. "I've thought it out quite thoroughly."
"But..." Dominique was still in a state of shock to the looking-glass's reply. "...that doesn't make any sense!"
The looking-glass replied. "It doesn't have to." It eyed Dominique. "Why do people from Holland insist on calling their country The Netherlands even though the people themselves are Dutch?"
Dominique thought about this.
"At any rate..." it continued, "I gave you your answer, now kindly scamper off. I have other people to see."
"But how do I find this onion?" he protested.
"I could tell you..." said the looking-glass. "...but you'd need to deposit another 25 cents."
Dominique groaned and reluctantly reached into his pocket. He put yet another quarter into the slot.
"Now then," the looking-glass said to him, "...three miles from this spot to the east, you'll find an old well. At the bottom of this well lives a solitary creature that is in possession of your onion. Defeat him at his requested challenge and he'll give it to you. Simple as that."
"SIMPLE?!" whined Dominique. "Hardly! Anything BUT simple! What sort of creature? What sort of challenge?"
The looking-glass said nothing, but eyed the coin slot.
Dominique felt around in his pockets, realizing that he was all out of quarters. "Forget it." he said, "I'll find out when I get there."
With that, Dominique plodded off the the east and began his search for the old well. The looking-glass merely chuckled and muttered to itself, "Poor fool."
--------------------------------------
Meanwhile, approximately three miles away down a certain old well, two voices could be heard engaging in a rather lively dispute. The first voice was rather fast and cackley, while the second was slow, deep and measured.
"Impossible!" snarled the first voice. "There's no possible way that you can do it in the next move! I'm one move away from checkmating you and there's nothing you can do about it!"
The second voice did not argue, but merely said in it's slow deep tone, "Knight to E-5."
The other moved the piece as directed and looked at the board. After a moment, a horrified expression flooded his face.
The mellow voice spoke once more. "Checkmate, Alonsy."
"CURSES!" the one called Alonsy screamed. "Curses to you, Kram, and all those like you!" He kicked over the board in a rage and chess pieces went flying everywhere.
"There's no need for such asinine behavior, Alonsy." Kram mumbled. "Besides, there aren't many like me anyway."
This was a very true statement, as Kram happened to be a stone that was given the ability to talk by a drunken wizard. Unfortunately, the intoxicated wizard had failed to give Kram the ability to be mobile, so he was forced to go wherever people bothered to carry him. How he ended up at the bottom of a well with a very moody hobgoblin is as of yet a mystery, and could probably be a very interesting story on it's own.
"Why do you always beat me? HOW do you always beat me?!" Alonsy snarled.
"You see but you do not observe." Kram told him. "I'm going to give you the same advice I always give you, Alonsy. Look at every possible move that every piece can possibly execute, and from that, determine your next move. Not only your next move but several moves in the future. Don't just speed through the game." Kram looked Alonsy in the eye. "Take your time and think before you move."
Alonsy ran his claws through his thick and matted black hair. "What kind of answer is that?" He scowled at Kram. "You cheated somehow. I know you did!"
Kram looked at Alonsy. "How did I cheat?" he asked calmly.
Alonsy turned his back on Kram and began picking up the chess pieces. "I'm still working on that." he muttered.
Once Alonsy had located all of the chess pieces and put them away, he say down next to Kram. "How did you get so good at chess anyhow?" he asked. "I mean... you're a talking stone for goodness sake!"
"True." answered Kram, who was in fact a talking stone. "I suppose it's in part that I've lived quite a bit longer than you have, Alonsy. Stones do tend to outlast several generations of hobgoblins, you know."
Alonsy, who was in fact a hobgoblin, merely sneered at him. "We'll see how much longer you last if you keep all this up."
"At any rate..." said Kram, who did not seem to detect the threat in Alonsy's statement, "I don't think that we should fuss over that right now." he looked down the tunnel leading out of their chamber. "I think we have company."
"What?!" cried Alonsy, leaping to his feet. "How do you know that?!"
"I can pick up vibrations from the well's entrance." Kram explained, but Alonsy had long since stopped listening to him, and was already running towards the entrance of the well. "Set up the chess board!" barked Alonsy, speeding down the down the tunnel.
Kram didn't move, but mumbled to himself. "Delighted to, Alonsy..." he looked at the board and the box containing it's pieces. "...if I had any arms to speak of."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dominique grabbed ahold of the ladder and began to descend down into the well. He had one question that was swirling about inside his head. It was not "What sort of creature lurks at the bottom of the well?" or "What sort of challenge will it pose to me when I get there?" or "Did I remember to turn the kettle off when I left the house?" Rather, the question in mind was "What in God's name does an onion have to do with my eternal happiness?"
It was a reasonable question. Perhaps not the most well-sought-after question that was ever dreamt up, but to his specific predicament, it was acceptable.
Soon he reached the bottom of the well and stepped of the ladder. He looked around and saw to his amazement not just the bottom of a well, but rather the opening to a large tunnel. Dominique squinted and peered down the corridor, but it was too dark for him to make out much of anything. After a few failed attempts to see down the tunnel he turned around, and looked up at where he had come from. He craned his neck to see just how far down he had come from, and he had to admit that it was quite an impressive distance. For no apparent reason, he then proceeded to count the steps on the ladder he'd just climbed down. he'd gotten to around thirty-four when he heard a snarly voice behind him.
"What are you standing around gaping at the sky for? You look perfectly idiotic."
Dominique spun around and saw an odd-looking little creature glaring up at him. It had rust-red skin and long tangled black hair that fell down to it's waist. It's teeth and claws were jet black and appeared to be needle sharp. But the most interesting thing about the odd little fellow was it's eyes. They were two golden circles that rested beneath two large furry eyebrows that seemed to be locked in a permanent scowl.
"Oh... um... hello there." Dominique choked. The creature raised an eyebrow.
"What do you want?" it growled. "And why the blazes are you staring at me like that? Haven't you ever seen a Hobgoblin before?"
Dominique didn't really know how to answer that question without being rude. He answered truthfully, "Well... I can't say that I have... actually." The creature's eyes locked on his. "Rhetorical question." it said.
Dominique tried to drown out the feeling of idiocy that was now flooding his head. Whatever attempts that he was making to appeal to the Hobgoblin were obviously failing.
"What are you doing in my well?"
Not really knowing how to answer that question either, he said, "Well... I'm trying find-" Realizing that "onion" would sound ludicrous to ANYONE he happened to meet, not just this moody hobgoblin, he quickly said, "I'm trying to find they key to my eternal happiness." He smiled satisfied, but it faded quickly once he saw the expression on the little creature's face.
"Yeah?"
Dominique tried his hardest to resume speaking, trying to sound as convincing as possible, but failing miserably.
"...and... um... a looking glass told me that I could find it down here. I'm not sure why... but that's the answer it gave me."
The hobgoblin stared at him for a while. "Well... I can tell you two things, mate." it said. "One, taking advice from talking pieces of glass doesn't sound like and effort-worthy goal to me.."
"It was MAGIC looking glass, I'll have you know." Dominique quickly added.
The hobgoblin rolled it's eyes. "Oh a MAGIC looking-glass. Well exCUSE me." it said. "It's still just a talking piece of glass." Dominique shrugged and the hobgoblin continued. "Two, this is the bottom of a bloody well, mate. I doubt you're going to find anything particularly appealing to you. Trust me. I've lived down here my entire bloody life."
Dominique could feel his enthusiasm being squelched already, but he refused to give up. "Listen... I'm not really looking for anything. The looking glass told me I had to go down a well, meet a creature and it would challenge me to something and if I defeated it it would give me the key to my eternal happiness."
"Really now." the Hobgoblin said. "Well I'm sorry to smoke your aspirations mate, but theres' really not much I can challenge you at."
Dominique asked. "How 'bout A riddle contest."
The hobgoblin shook it's head. "Don't know any."
"A duel?"
"Hey now! I'm no savage. That's just cruel!"
"A physical sport of some kind?"
"I'm so out of shape, that wouldn't even be a fair contest."
Dominique slumped against the wall. "Well I might as well toss the whole thing because I'm all out of ideas."
The hobgoblin thought for a minute, and then suggested, "Well... we could play chess. I have a board and stuff."
Dominique looked up and smiled. "Yeah, sure. That'll do."
The hobgoblin began to walk down the tunnel and the hobgoblin followed him close behind. "My name's Domnique" he said trying not to loose his way ion the dark.
My name's Alonsorafato Corrafanato." The hobgoblin answered. "But you can call me Alonsy. Everyone else does."
Dominique sighed. "Thank God. That's quite a mouthful.'
Alonsy glanced back at him. "For humans it is. I's actually quite short for a hobgoblin. Alonsorafato is an abridged version of my full name, which is Alonsorafatoarchelpellicato."
Dominique whimpered and stared ahead. "That's what I thought." sneered Alonsy.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Soon the familiar lighting appeared ahead. Alonsy and dominique emerged from the dark tunnel into an open clearing. Dominique studied his surroundings and noted that this "clearing" was actually quite cluttered. It was packed wall-to-wall with furs, scraps of metal, random stones and a single table on which a box and a chess set lay.
"Here we are" said alonsy. "Home sweet home."
Dominique sat down on a nearby stone when he heard a voice coming from directly underneath his rump.
"Excuse me" it said "But you are sitting on my head. Would you kindly move?"
Dominique shrieked and jumped up. "Alonsy, that rock just talked to me.!"
Alonsy continued to set up the pieces where Dominique left off. "Yes, I know." he said. "It's getting him to shut up that's the trick."
Dominique stared down at the apparently animate object with disbelief. It's not everyday a perfectly normal-looking boulder speaks to you and tells you to get off it's noggin.
"I"m sorry. Dominique croaked. "I was unaware that rocks could... er... talk."
"I'm a stone, actually. But I forgive you. For the time being."
Dominique looked around nervously. "Is there any other talking items that I should be aware of?"
Alonsy shook his head. "No. It's just us down here. Dominique, this is my companion, Kram, He is, as he said, a stone."
Dominique nodded politely. He didn't want to risk sitting on another one of Alonsy's companions, so he just sat on the ground.
Once the board was set up, Dominique and Alonsy drew pawns and began the game. Kram looked up curiously at Dominique, "You mean you came all the way down this well just to play Alonsy in chess?" he asked.
"It's a long story." sighed Dominique.
Alonsy opened the game with the classic chess opening by moving the pawn out in front of the king two spaces. Dominique concentrated and made his move as well. It wasn't the first time Dominique had played chess in order to obtain something.
"that onion is mine" he thought, although he still had no clue what the onion was for, nor did he have the foggiest idea on how it would make him eternally happy.
Dominique scanned the board and noticed that Alonsy was setting up for what looked suspiciously like the four move win. He grinned and said. "I know what you're doing."
Alonsy looked up at Dominique. "What are you talking bout? You have no idea what I'm doing."
"do YOU have any idea what you're doing?"
Alonsy paused. "Yes..." he shifted his gaze. "Somewhat."
Dominique wasn't certain, but he thought he heard Kram let out a groan.
Minutes ticked by and neither Dominique and Alonsy appeared to have any obvious advantage. The game went on like this for awhile until...
"Ha I forked you! Now you must surrender your queen!" Dominique looked at the board and frowned. he moved his rook 2 spaces to the left and captured Alonsy's bishop. Checkmate, he said.
Alonsy stared at the board. His face flooded with horror and disbelief. "What?!" he shrieked. "How?"
"Man..." Dominique sighed. "You really don't think before you move, do you?"
Alonsy scowled at him with his fiery hobgoblin scowl. "Very well... you won." He pointed a long clawed finger at the tunnel. "Now leave."
"Wait a minute." Dominique said suddenly. "What about they key to my happiness?"
"Ah! Right!" Alonsy grunted. He felt around a pile of junk behind him, half-searching, half tunneling. After a minute or so he emerged from the mountain of stuff and threw a small bag of jelly beans at Dominique. "You can have this, I suppose."
Dominique looked ta the bag and then at Alonsy. "What about my onion?" he asked.
"Onion?" Alonsy scratched behind his ear. "You never said anything about an onion."
"But I need one!" cried Dominique "The looking glass told me that I needed to get and onion fro a creature at the bottom of the well to obtain supreme happiness."
"Look," said Alonsy, he patience wearing thin, "I don't have any onions. And I'm really sick of hearing about this looking glass. Maybe you got the wrong well or something. "Suggested Alonsy, pushing Dominique out the door.
"But...!" protested Dominique, but it was no use. The door slammed shut in his face.
----------------------------------------------------------
"Man..." groaned Alonsy, plopping down next to Kram. "Humans. I'll never understand them or their bloody superstitions."
"It's a puzzle of nature indeed, Alonsy." answered Kram.
Alonsy rested his head in his hands and took in a deep breath. He turned to look at his companion. "Say Kram.." he asked.
"Yes?"
"What is that odd smell?"
Kram didn't answer him. Alonsy stood up and looked around. He sniffed about, looked at Kram, then lifted up the stone and looked beneath him. "What's this?" Alonsy took a closer look. "ONIONS?!" He snarled and put Kram back on the ground. "Why didn't you tell me you had onions?" he hissed through his needle sharp teeth.
"Well..." began Kram.
"Nevermind" interrupted Alonsy. "I don't want to know."
Kram shrugged in the best way that a stone could and said, 'Well anyway, would you like to play chess, Alonsy? I'll give you an onion if you win."
--------------------------
But whatever happened to our friend Dominique? Well, he was feeling very glum that he didn't receive his onion, so he left the well and traveled across many lands searching for the key to eternal happiness. On his quest, he had the opportunity to play many different people in chess and as a result, found that he was very good. Dominique then forgot all about his quest for eternal happiness and practiced his chess skills until one day, he became a chess grand-master and it was there... not in an onion, that he found eternal happiness.
MORAL: Follow your passions, for they will point you in the right direction.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE MISADVENTURES OF ALDEBARAN AND SIGFRIED QUINCY
Book 2: "Aldebaran talks to some Trees and Sigfried Throws a Panic Attack."
"Well, thats a very interesting perspective on the elements of smooth jazz, Miss Spruce... but I can't help but wonder if you've ever thought
to... you know... broaden your horizons a bit?"
The young man in the leather trench coat, blue shirt and yellow tie looked puzzingly up at the aging spruce.
.
"You know..." he began "...I myself am a fan of many different genres of music, and I find myself to be VERY emotionally satisfied. ... No, I've
never ACTUALLY seen Miles Davis in concert, but... what's that? .... Well yes, I do suppose he's shown mankind a better perspective on
the potential of African-American artists and jazz itself... no I can't say that I have. ...Indeed? ...Well then."
The young man in the black leather trench coat and the blue shirt and the yellow tie slumped down against the tree's trunk and began to
pick away at the grass around him.
"If you insist. All I'm saying is that you'd do well to be a bit more open minded is all."
He looked up into the sky and concentrated hard on what he was viewing above him. The way the clouds swirled about to make little
shapes that looked vaugley like little grey gorilla turds. He closed his eyes, and sighed.
"Well... that's irony for you. I have a car and an indomitable will... and here I am chatting away to a coniferous plant."
He jerked his head toward the trunk of the tree. "No offense."
The tree's branches fluttered in the breeze as if to reply. He nodded, then sank down lower into a more comfortable position. He closed his
eyes and let his head rest on a root sticking upwards out of the ground. It wasn't the most comfortable of head-resting mechanisms, but it
was indeed there to be used for something. It may have as well been a head-rest. The sounds of the breeze rolling over the landscape and
the leaves rustling away acted as a lullaby and soon, the man with the black trench coat, the blue shirt and the yellow tie was fast asleep
under the spruce tree he had, untill very recently, been involved in a deep converation with.
"Aldebaran..."
The groggy human slowly opened one eye to see who it was that was calling out to him.
"Aldebaran... wake up you stupid boy!"
"That voice..." he croaked, "I know I've heard it somewhere before..."
"Aldebaran! Are you quite finished dreaming about flying tuna fishes and ready to wake up and listen to what I have to say?"
"Well that depends... what DO you have to say and how long will it take you to say it?" Aldebaran sat up and rubbed his neck. "... and IS
whatever you have to say, in fact, just as or more interesting than flying tuna fishes?"
"If you choose to interpret it that way, yes."
"Who are you anyway? I can't... I can't see you."
"Step into the light, Aldebaran, and you shall see me in my true form."
"True form... hang on? Are you God?"
"I might be... if you choose to interpret it that way."
"What does that mean? Either you're God or you're not. Stop messing with my head! It's too early for that sort of jazz."
"Aldebaran..."
"What?"
"...it's nearly two in the afternoon."
Aldebaran's eyes shot wide open.
"Is it?!" He jumped up and ran for his car. "Well forget you then, I have a hair appointment I'm late for!"
At that moment, a hand reached out and touched his shoulder. Aldebaran spun around to find himself face to face with...
"Sigfried Quincy?!" he cried. "Oh come on now, that's not really you, is it? I caught wind that you died last week in some apartment
complex. I was going to go to the funeral, but I had a hair appointment and... oh I'm so sorry." Aldebaran's eyes locked on to his. "I hear it
was quite a painful and tragic sort of death, actually."
Sigfried narrowed his eyes at him. "It was."
"Oh, well... I'm sorry to hear it." He offered Sigfried a partially melted chocolate bar from his pocket, but he politely declined.
Sigfried Quincy, an oddly-dressed actor from Liverpool, was considered a less-than-normal sort of man where he was from. Always milling
about, philosophizing, smiling at strangers, giving money to beggars if they made him laugh... that sort of thing. But despite being a very
gregarious sort of man, he enjoyed spending a great deal of his time alone. In fact, he really only left his house to audition for theatrical
productions, have a pint down at the pub, and to buy food for both himself and his half-dozen cats. This he didn't consider much of an effort
for himself because both he and his half-dozen cats ate from the same bag.
How exactly Sigfried found Aldebaran is still a mystery because he changes the story every time he asks him. But the skeleton of the tale is
that one seemingly tranquil mid-afternoon, Aldebaran was out conversing with a particularly charming poplar when he just sort of...
popped up. He originally came to warn Aldebaran about some apparent death threat on his life from some very arrogant people who were
against the prospect of talking to trees. Aldebaran kidnapped Sigfried and forced him to help bring to justice his would-be assassins.
Everything turned out swimmingly, and Aldebaran allowed Sigfried to return to his usual routine of acting, smiling at strangers, eating cat-
food out of the bag, etc.
But since then, Sigfried has come to visit Aldebaran and adventure with him frequently, and Aldebaran is very grateful to him for it. He finds
Sigfried a very entertaining and interesting fellow... of course, one could make the argument that any oddly-dressed actor from Liverpool
that eats cat-food out of the bag is interesting. But upon his frequent visits, Aldebaran took it as an indication that Sigfried found found HIM
interesting... of course, one could make the argument that any bright-eyed bloke who talks to trees is interesting.
"Well it's lovely to see you again, Sigfried! As always." Aldebaran cheerfully welcomed his friend.
Giving him a friendly wave and s smile, he walked to Aldebaran's temporary camp beneath the spruce tree and firmly shook his hand.
"And it's an absolute pleasure to be welcome here, Aldebaran. As Always."
Without missing a beat, he looked over at the lovely young spruce that Aldebaran had until recently been in a deep conversation with. "Still
talking to trees, I see."
Aldebaran nodded. "How's life on the D-list, Sigfried?"
Sigfried stared at Aldebaran puzzled. "I don't follow.
"Don't you watch Kathy Griffin?"
"I've never heard of her."
"Oh... well... that's too bad. She's quite good. I think you'd like her."
"What? Is she a congresswoman or something?"
"No... she's a comedian."
"Congresswomen, comedians... they're all the same to me, Aldebaran."
For the moment, Aldebaran had to agree with him.
Sigfried stretched out in the grass and looked at the spruce tree. "Felt like a good conifer today?"
One thing the Aldebaran liked about Sigfried Quincy in particular was that he didn't consider his habit of talking to trees remotely abnormal.
As a matter of fact... there wasn't a whole lot that Sigfried considered to be remotley abnormal. This was probably why Sigfried was so
abnormal to Aldebaran... of course, keep in mind that Aldebaran is a bloke who talks to trees, after all.
"Yes." he answered gleefully. "They lift me up when I'm having a rough day."
"Are you having a rough day?"
"Apart from my increasing frustration that I cannot see my forehead, no. Not especially." Aldebaran again offered Sigfried the partially-
melted chocolate bar, and Sigfried, once again, declined, so Aldebaran took a bite out of it himself.
"Aldebaran, there are things we need to discuss."
"Oh really now? What sort of things?" Aldebaran asked as he licked the melted chocolate off his fingers. "I say... that's got to be the most
delicious chocolate bar I've ever tasted."
Sigfreid Quincy ran his fingers through his curly hair. "I need you to focus, Aldebaran. It's very important. Now.. when was the last time that
you and I gave blood together?"
Aldebaran took a seat in the grass beside him. "I don't think you and I have ever given blood together, Sigfried."
"Haven't we?" Sigfried looked a little hurt. "Perhaps I dreamed that we did...?" Aldebaran shrugged.
"Well at any rate," he continued, "Do you watch the news, Aldebaran?"
"No." he answered truthfully. "I find it depressing. There's always a story about some tragic death. I find it ghastly."
"Precisely the reason I watch it... but that's not important. You shouldn't skimp out on watching the news, Aldebaran. I used to do it
carelessly myself for quite a long number of years. But as soon as the media found out what I was doing, they tracked me down and
tragically murdered me in my flat."
"...your what?"
"Apartment complex."
"Ah! Okay! I see now. Carry on."
It was the most painful and strenuous sort of death. My apparent demise was their headline story the next morning."
"Oh dear... I'm very sorry to hear that."
"Yes... it was very unpleasant needless to say, but I survived. It was difficult and took quite a bit of apricot juice, but I survived."
Aldebaran smiled and gave Sigfried a hearty pat on the back. "Well good for you, Mr. Quincy!" he said. "That's not an easy thing to
accomplish, you know, surviving death!"
"I'm surprised I managed it myself actually."
"They threw you a big party down at the office, I imagine?"
"Oh yes. It was wonderful!" Sigfried smiled fondly. "We had an ice-sculptured goose and eleven different flavors of crisps."
"...eh?"
"Potato chips."
"Oh! Well that's just grand!" Aldebaran stood up. "Listen, I'm sorry to leave you so soon, Sigfried, but I do have a rather important hair
appointment that I really must be-"
Sigfried grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back onto the root. "I'm not through with you yet!" His fond smile turned to a burning look of
concern.
"Aren't you?" Aldebaran frowned. "Well then, I suppose I have no choice but to call the stylist and reschedule. " He whipped out a blue cell
phone and began to dial. Sigfried stared at him in absolute horror.
"You musn't do that!" he cried.
"Why not? I have unlimited calls after two in the afternoon."
Sigfried whispered through his clenched teeth. "The media has tapped all your phone lines. If you make a call, any call, they'll hunt you
down and murder you the way they did me."
Aldebaran looked at him for a moment, but then smiled and told him in a reassuring voice, "Oh, don't worry, Sigfried," He held up his
phone. " Verizon wireless, my friend. I've got my own private military."
Sigfried relaxed a bit. "Oh, well alright then. In that case go ahead and make your call. I'll wait."
Aldebaran did so, and not only did he reschedule with his stylist successfully, but he also saved quite a bit of money because he did not
get his hair cut on a weekend as originally planned, therefore the getting-your-hair-cut-on-the-weekend tax was dropped. In addition to this
good fortune, he was totally unaware that his horoscope in the paper that morning had in fact read:
"Today you will reschedule your hair appointment after being warned about a little boy's impending death by an oddly-dressed actor from
Liverpool."
He folded up his phone and put it back in his pocket. "Now what is it that you need to tell me?" Aldebaran inquired.
Sigfried nervously shifted his eyes. "I need to give blood, Aldebaran... but I'm afraid. I'm terribly afraid"
"Of needles?"
"No, not of needles! I rather like the needles. I'll sometimes poke myself with needles if it's not too humid out."
"Well what are you afraid of, then?"
Sigfreid rubbed his neck and looked up into the sky. "I'm... afraid of red liquid in plastic baggies."
There was a pause.
"Are you?" Aldebaran asked, trying to sound as understanding as possible.
"I'm afraid so."
"Well... you don't HAVE to give blood if you don't want to."
"I want to."
"Why?"
"Well I have a very rare blood type."
"Do you?"
"Oh yes. Blood type CDEFGHIJKLMN positive."
Aldebaran frowned. "I've never heard of the blood type in my life.
"Of course you haven't. It's a very rare blood type." Sigfried snapped. "It's the blood type between B negitive and O positive."
"I gathered that." But something still didn't make much sense to Aldebaran. "Why do you want to give blood?"
"Well if you watched the news..." began Sigfried, still a little frustrated. "... you'd know that there's a little boy who's been diagnosed with
Hemochameleon. He's in critical condition right now. He's lying on his deathbed, and needs a blood transfusion or..."
"Or?"
"... his blood will turn rainbow."
"GHASTLY!" Aldebaran cried. "Is it fatal?!"
"Fatal? Oh heavens, no!"
"But..." Aldebaran was confused. "I thought you said he was dying."
"Of humiliation. What else? How would you feel having rainbow blood?"
Aldebaran didn't really know how to answer that question.
"Anyway... I feel like I owe something to the world. To that boy with rainbow blood." Sigfried closed his eyes. "I feel like I should help him."
He began to noticeably tear up.
Aldebaran cocked his head. "Do you get this sentimental with every little dying boy you see on television?"
"Yes." Sigfried eyed his friend. "Now can you, or can you not help me cure my fear of red liquid in plastic baggies?"
Hesitantly, Aldebaran agreed to help him. After all, Sigfried had hesitantly... in fact somewhat reluctantly agreed to help him fight off his
would-be assassins. He didn't think it would be any big deal.
Of course... like many of the things that Aldebaran thought, he was horribly wrong.
"Alright, Sigfried... I'll help you." Aldebaran declared. "I mean... there wouldn't be much of a plot-line if I refused you, would there, readers?."
"Hey now!" hissed Sigfried slapping his friend across the face, "That's breaking the fourth wall, you git! You could have the fiction police
after us in an instant if you attempt that too many times!"
"Sorry." Aldebaran rubbed his sore cheek.
Sigfried took his hand and reached into his leather satchel. He pulled out a little white box.
"We'll start with the teapot."
Now Aldebaran didn't really know what Sigfried meant when he suggested starting with the teapot. He had at first assumed that he meant
that he wanted to enjoy a relaxing cup of tea with him before he began his first session.
Again, he should have known better.
The next thing Aldebaran knew, he was pouring red kool-aid out of the teapot and into a little plastic baggie. Every now and then, a
nervous and sweaty Sigfried would cry out, "STOP! STOP! THAT'S ENOUGH! THAT'S ALL I CAN BEAR RIGHT NOW!" and Aldebaran
would stop pouring the kool-aid , and Sigfried would finish hyperventilating, catch his breath and stare at the baggie for a few minutes.
After a moment of that, he would nod and Aldebaran would begin pouring the kool-aid again and the whole process would start over.
That was Sigfried's rehab.
But it seemed to work, because as time progressed, Sigfried panicked less and less, and after about an hour of pouring kool-aid out of the
teapot into the baggie, he was able to watch it without any obvious signs of his irrational fear.
So that afternoon, Sigfried and Aldebaran made their way down to the clinic and Sigfried gave as much blood as he could give without
potentially killing himself. Sigfried also had requested to the doctor that his blood be brought directly to the dying little boy with rainbow
blood. The doctor scratched his head and told him that he honestly had no idea what he was talking about, but he'd look into it.
As they left the clinic, Aldebaran asked Sigfried, "How do you think that doctor didn't know about the little boy with rainbow blood?"
Sigfried shrugged. "I don't know, Aldebaran. It bothers me, the ignorance of the medical professionals." He looked up into the sky and
muttered, "Then again... perhaps I dreamed of the little boy dying of rainbow blood. I can't recall. My dreams are awefully hard to tell from
reality."
Aldebaran looked worried.
Sigfried noticed his reaction and assured him, "I have exceptionally realistic dreams. One night I dreamed that I was sleeping in my bed.
When I woke up I was tightrope-walking across a clothesline."
Aldebaran's expression didn't change. Sigfried smiled at him. "I'm sorry, Aldebaran. You've been a great friend. Would you like to come
home with me? I have more than enough cat food."
"No thanks, Sigfried."
"Are you sure? It's guaranteed to give you a smooth, silky coat. Well... personally, I haven't received mine yet, but I'm sure it's in the mail."
"It's okay, Sigfried. I think I'll stick to talking to trees for now."
"Suit yourself, then."
And the two parted ways for the day, thus bringing this particular misadventure to a close.
THE END
But just as the author closed her tale, Aldebaran rushed back onto the scene.
"Readers, I apologize for breaking the fourth wall... again... but I need to know, do you think that the general plot of the story was too-"
But Aldebaran never got the chance to finish his question because at that instant the fiction police pulled up and hauled him off to jail.
THE END (reprise)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AGNES THE HAGFISH AND THAT OTHER GROTESQUELY SAD TALE
"Don't Tease the Tiger, Son"
Once upon a time, there was a happy little zoo. And in that happy little zoo lived all sorts of happy little animals who
all got along quite well with each other, The zookeepers were kind and respectful to the animals. They fed each
animal what it required dietarily, and made sure that their habitats were all comfortable. By respecting the animals,
there was always an established sense of peace and trust between the animals and the humans that came to visit
them.
Among the Animals, was a particularly large tiger named Tara. She was a kindly tiger for the most part, patent, trusting and
didn't mind children. Tara didn't particularly LIKE children, she just didn't mind them when they came to visit her.
But despite Tara's relatively stable personality, she also had very bad cases of PMS. She would get migraines and
get very very moody. It would just so happen that Tara was having ther worst case of PMS that she had ever
experienced where this tale begins.
Tara the tiger was curled up into a small ball at the far edge of her cage, trying to get to sleep so she could escape
the idiocy of life when...
"BANG!"
She shot up into the air, her heart was racing and she was out of breath. She spun around to see what had made the
startling noise, ad to her rage saw a little fat boy laughing at her. She was about to reach out of the cage and rip open
the boy's throat when the child's father came running over to him.
"What was that noise?" he asked.
The little fat boy giggled and said "I kicked the tiger's cage, daddy! It was funny! It jumped like nintey-gazillion feet in
the air!" The little boy giggled and laughed.
Tara snarled at him. She couldn't hear what the little fat kid was saying, but could see his round little gut jiggle. "Oh
how I'd like to take a bite out of that." she thought. "How I'd love to claw a gash into that stupid little tummy of his
and spill his guts all over the pavement."
The father shook his head and said solemnly. "Don't tease the tiger, son." The little fat boy giggled and said.
"Okayyyyy, daddy."
Tara watch the man leave and thought to herself, "Ok... I'll give that little plump human another chance." and she
curled up and went to sleep.
Tara was pleasantly enjoying her slumber. She was in the middle of a dream about killing fat healthy water-buffalo,
when...
"BANG!"
She cried out and leapt into the air. Once again, she was hyperventilating and her heart was racing. On top of that,
she woke to find that she had an ungodly headache. It felt like someone had taken a nail-gun to her eyeballs. She
roared and turned around to see the same little fat boy rolling around on the ground laughing at her.
"THIS TIME YOU DIE!" she thought, She charged at the bars where the little boy stood behind and was about to drag
the fat little brat in with her, but the child's father quickly pulled his son away from the cage.
"Don't tease the tiger, son!" His father warned him, putting him down.
"Awwwww, but daddy, it jumped really high and roared at me! It was funny!"
"It's not funny at all. Don't tease the tiger, son. Please." the father warned,
"Awwwww... okay daddy." the little boy whined,
Tara was having all varieties of happy mental images of the little fat boy's mangled cadaver strewn about her cage.
She longed to hear his screams and shrieks for unattainable mercy... but it wasn't to be. she curled up quite close to
the edge of the cage and tried to go to sleep. And she did.
Tara was fast asleep. She could feel no pain, no anger, no head-splitting migraines. She was, for once, at peace. But
it wasn't long before...
"BANG!"
Her eyes shot open, and she was face to face with the jolly countenance of the fat boy who's apparent purpose in life
was to make her life a living inferno. He giggled and laughed and pointed at her.
But this... this was the final straw for Tara. Her migraine was like a lightning-bolt to her cranium. Her lack-of-sleep
was so apparent that large droopy rings sagged under a pair of raging bloodshot eyes. Tara went mad.
She reached out of the cage and grabbed ahold of the little boy's neck. She snapped it, killing him instantly, and tried
to pull the child into the cage with her. She roared and tugged and pulled and twisted, but the body was just too
plump to fit through the bars, so she had no choice but to nibble him down to size. She nibbled and nibbled, starting
with the head, but working her way down. She chewed the ears, and savored the eyes. The skull was a little crunchy,
but she managed to swallow it... piece by piece. Blood gushed from the boy's veins filling her mouth. It's metallic
essence was sweet as nectar to Tara. Sweet as nectar.
Meanwhile, the child's father was looking around for his son. He searched the primate house, scanned the aquarium,
and looked around the aviary... but he couldn't locate hide nor hair of his offspring... and then a horrible thought hit
him. The tiger.
He ran as fast as he could towards the tiger cage, following the screams and shrieks coming from that general area.
His worst fears became a reality when he pushed through the final layer of crowd, he saw the carnage before him and
let out a long wail. Because you see, what was once his son was now no more than a bloody stump in corduroy
trousers, locked in the death-grip of a tiger.
So you see, dear children, the moral of the story is... listen to your parents, for they are here to guide you. And more
importantly... please... please... do not tease the tiger.
"Agnes the Hagfish"
There once was a hagfish, Agnes the hagfish, who lived at the bottom of the sea inside a dead whale. Agnes never
really questioned why she lived in a dead whale, but was happy there. Not only that, but she had been warned by her
parents when she was little to stay away from the surface. "Fishermen" they warned "will catch you and turn your
hide into yuppie leather." And that was a good enough reason for her.
Now Agnes had a friend, Sally Seahorse, who really did like Agnes, but thought the prospect of her living in a
deceased whale was absolutely revolting.She would refuse to go to her house for tea because she didn't want to be
seen walking into the corpse of a whale. My no! What would the neighbors think? So Sally would insist on Agnes
coming to her house inside a cluster of lovely pastel-pink coral.
Agnes didn't mind having tea at Sally's house, but she couldn't understand why Sally avoided coming to her whale for
tea. It was a nice whale, as far as whales go. She was always careful to lick it clean so the decay didn't get out of
control, and she made sure to check for nematodes monthly, so not only was it a nice whale, but a well-maintained
whale at that.
But no matter what Agnes said, nothing would convince Sally to come over for tea.
One lovely afternoon, Agnes was at Sally's house of lovely pastel-pink coral sipping tea.
"Agnes," said Sally, in a matter-of-fact voice. "as your friend, I need to advise you to leave that revolting whale
carcass of yours and move to a more pleasant location. Perhaps nearer the surface. I mean, it's so dark and dismal
down there on the ocean floor. If you were nearer the surface, you would have all this lovely light. It would really be a
breath of fresh water for you, Agnes."
Agnes was unsure. "Oh... I don't know, Sally, I've lived in my whale since before I can remember."
"And what a better reason to move? Hmm? Think of it as an opportunity. A new experience."
"Well... my parents always told me that if I spent too much time near the surface, a fisherman would catch me an
turn my hide into yuppie leather."
"Preposterous!" chuckled Sally. "Fishermen are a myth. A long-forgotten fear of the past. I've lived my whole life up
hear near the surface, and I've never seen a fisherman. Ever."
"Ever?"
"Ever." Sally smiled. "Why not? What have you got to loose, Agnes?"
"I'm still not sure, Sally. My species is pretty old. We have an unusually long memory, and I don't think my parents would lie to me."
Sally laughed. "What about when they told you about the Easter Bluegill?"
"Yeah... but..."
"And Santa Clam."
"Well..."
"And the Tooth Fish?"
"Okay... okay. I'll try it... but I still have this bad feeling in my gut, Sally."
"Oh... that's probably the ghastly decaying whale you've been eating all those years. Nothing a little sunshine won't
cure."
So Agnes swam back to her whale and packed. When she had everything together, she looked around the carcass
that had been her home all her life.
"Well... I guess this goodbye. I'm going to miss you, whale." she wiped a tear from her eye and began to swim
towards the surface.
But she still had the bad feeling in her gut.
Sally found her a home in a kelp-bed, so Agnes unpacked and settled down, but that bad feeling in her gut still
wouldn't cease.
A week passed, and now that she was out of that "ghastly revolting whale carcass", Sally was willing to come to her
house for tea, and Agnes had to admit that it was nice being a hostess for a change. But something told her that she
should flee this seemingly cozy kelp bed and move back to her whale.
When she brought this up to Sally, she frowned and said "Now Agnes, I thought I had talked some sense into you.
You're finally settled down in a nice sunny house and there's no rotting flesh on the walls... I can finally come over for
tea... why would you ever want to move back to that revolting dead whale?"
"I don't know. Something's just telling me to."
"Well ignore it, Agnes. That's all I can tell you. ignore it and it will go away." Sally took the last sip of her tea and said
"Now I have to do some shell-shopping. I'll catch up with you tomorrow, dear."
So Sally left and Agnes decided that it was late enough that she should probably get some sleep. So she slithered
into a corner and closed her eyes. Soon she was fast asleep.
But... in the middle of the night... a diver descended upon her kelp-bed. He pulled back the leaves and saw her
sleeping there. So he snatched up poor Agnes and put her into a cage, and lifted her out of the water where
fishermen killed, skinned and dried her. and she was promptly manufactured into yuppie leather.
The moral of this story, dear children, is that you should never let peer-pressure rule over your gut-instincts.
I entered a writing contest at my library this month. Here are the entries. (One of them you may recognize because It's based off my fanfic, but... blendered a bit.) I threw in tiny DW references in all of them. Can you spot them?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DOMINIQUE AND THE CHESS HOBGOBLIN
There's something to be said about the goblin. They've gone by many names and taken many forms: The troll under the bridge, the mischievous "fairy folk", Gollum from "The Lord of the Rings". This dark and magical creature has particular characters traits that allow it to be identified in any tale of myth. They're usually solitary creatures that are either guarding something of great value or possess such an item themselves. But in order to obtain said object, one must first engage the creature in a match of sorts. Perhaps a riddle contest, perhaps a battle of wits, perhaps combat, or in Alonsy's case, a game of chess.
This is where we begin our tale.
"You tell me I have a problem of sorts, but you won't specify to me what it is." Dominique peered into the looking-glass and asked again. "What must I do to achieve supreme happiness for life, and where must I go to do it?"
The looking glass narrowed it's eyes at him and asked, "Why do you want supreme happiness in the first place? Perhaps a life of toil, hardship, and misery wouldn't be a bad thing if you apprached it with a sense of optimisim."
Dominique scowled and pointed a finger at the face of the looking-glass. "Look you," he said, "I didn't pay a wizard an ungodly amount of money to buy a potion to grow wings so I could fly across 30 miles of barren desert wasteland, tear them off and feed them to a family of crocodiles as payment to ferry me across the bottomless lake of utopia just to ask you how I should approach my current situations and what attitude I should approach it with." after catching his breath, he resumed to quarrel with the looking-glass with the same passionate fury he began with. "I asked you specifically what I must do to obtain supreme happiness and how to do it."
"Well maybe I don't want to tell you."
"Well why not?!"
"Well maybe you didn't deposit the required 25 cents."
Dominique glanced at the coin slot and frowned. "Yes I did. It says right there. Please deposit 25 cents to ask the all-knowing looking-glass a question."
"Yes..." agreed the looking-glass, "...but it's an additional 25 cents to receive an answer."
Dominique, now feeling cheated and very grumpy, reached into his pocket to find another quarter. He felt around, located one, separated it from a half-melted skittle, and deposited it into the coin slot.
"Ahhhhh..." sighed the looking-glass, "...that's more like it."
"There. You got your stupid quarter. Now tell me how to achieve supreme happiness."
"Very well." The looking-glass closed it's eyes as if it were submerging into a deep meditation. It wrinkled it's brow and let out a deep hum. The hum floated through the halls and resonated off the castle walls.
Coincidentally, an elderly retired web-master on a nearby mountaintop was also letting out a hum at the percise same pitch and frequency as the looking-glass. He was not aware that either the looking-glass nor the poor, cheated human named Dominique existed, but he did enjoy a good hum in the afternoon. There is nothing in the world quit like a good afternoon hum.
But getting back to our friends Dominique and the looking-glass, after a few moments, the looking-glass ceased it's humming and it's eyes opened wide as though it were still partially in a trance.
"Dominique..." it began, "In order for you to achieve supreme happiness..."
"Yes?"
"...you need..."
"Yes?"
"...you need..."
"Yes?"
"...an onion."
Dominique didn't respond right away. For the longest time he just stood there with his mouth hanging open like some great Asian carp. But after a while, he spoke.
"...an onion?" he squeaked, "That's it? Is that really it? An onion?"
"Of course." The looking-glass stared at him quite calmly. "I've thought it out quite thoroughly."
"But..." Dominique was still in a state of shock to the looking-glass's reply. "...that doesn't make any sense!"
The looking-glass replied. "It doesn't have to." It eyed Dominique. "Why do people from Holland insist on calling their country The Netherlands even though the people themselves are Dutch?"
Dominique thought about this.
"At any rate..." it continued, "I gave you your answer, now kindly scamper off. I have other people to see."
"But how do I find this onion?" he protested.
"I could tell you..." said the looking-glass. "...but you'd need to deposit another 25 cents."
Dominique groaned and reluctantly reached into his pocket. He put yet another quarter into the slot.
"Now then," the looking-glass said to him, "...three miles from this spot to the east, you'll find an old well. At the bottom of this well lives a solitary creature that is in possession of your onion. Defeat him at his requested challenge and he'll give it to you. Simple as that."
"SIMPLE?!" whined Dominique. "Hardly! Anything BUT simple! What sort of creature? What sort of challenge?"
The looking-glass said nothing, but eyed the coin slot.
Dominique felt around in his pockets, realizing that he was all out of quarters. "Forget it." he said, "I'll find out when I get there."
With that, Dominique plodded off the the east and began his search for the old well. The looking-glass merely chuckled and muttered to itself, "Poor fool."
--------------------------------------
Meanwhile, approximately three miles away down a certain old well, two voices could be heard engaging in a rather lively dispute. The first voice was rather fast and cackley, while the second was slow, deep and measured.
"Impossible!" snarled the first voice. "There's no possible way that you can do it in the next move! I'm one move away from checkmating you and there's nothing you can do about it!"
The second voice did not argue, but merely said in it's slow deep tone, "Knight to E-5."
The other moved the piece as directed and looked at the board. After a moment, a horrified expression flooded his face.
The mellow voice spoke once more. "Checkmate, Alonsy."
"CURSES!" the one called Alonsy screamed. "Curses to you, Kram, and all those like you!" He kicked over the board in a rage and chess pieces went flying everywhere.
"There's no need for such asinine behavior, Alonsy." Kram mumbled. "Besides, there aren't many like me anyway."
This was a very true statement, as Kram happened to be a stone that was given the ability to talk by a drunken wizard. Unfortunately, the intoxicated wizard had failed to give Kram the ability to be mobile, so he was forced to go wherever people bothered to carry him. How he ended up at the bottom of a well with a very moody hobgoblin is as of yet a mystery, and could probably be a very interesting story on it's own.
"Why do you always beat me? HOW do you always beat me?!" Alonsy snarled.
"You see but you do not observe." Kram told him. "I'm going to give you the same advice I always give you, Alonsy. Look at every possible move that every piece can possibly execute, and from that, determine your next move. Not only your next move but several moves in the future. Don't just speed through the game." Kram looked Alonsy in the eye. "Take your time and think before you move."
Alonsy ran his claws through his thick and matted black hair. "What kind of answer is that?" He scowled at Kram. "You cheated somehow. I know you did!"
Kram looked at Alonsy. "How did I cheat?" he asked calmly.
Alonsy turned his back on Kram and began picking up the chess pieces. "I'm still working on that." he muttered.
Once Alonsy had located all of the chess pieces and put them away, he say down next to Kram. "How did you get so good at chess anyhow?" he asked. "I mean... you're a talking stone for goodness sake!"
"True." answered Kram, who was in fact a talking stone. "I suppose it's in part that I've lived quite a bit longer than you have, Alonsy. Stones do tend to outlast several generations of hobgoblins, you know."
Alonsy, who was in fact a hobgoblin, merely sneered at him. "We'll see how much longer you last if you keep all this up."
"At any rate..." said Kram, who did not seem to detect the threat in Alonsy's statement, "I don't think that we should fuss over that right now." he looked down the tunnel leading out of their chamber. "I think we have company."
"What?!" cried Alonsy, leaping to his feet. "How do you know that?!"
"I can pick up vibrations from the well's entrance." Kram explained, but Alonsy had long since stopped listening to him, and was already running towards the entrance of the well. "Set up the chess board!" barked Alonsy, speeding down the down the tunnel.
Kram didn't move, but mumbled to himself. "Delighted to, Alonsy..." he looked at the board and the box containing it's pieces. "...if I had any arms to speak of."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dominique grabbed ahold of the ladder and began to descend down into the well. He had one question that was swirling about inside his head. It was not "What sort of creature lurks at the bottom of the well?" or "What sort of challenge will it pose to me when I get there?" or "Did I remember to turn the kettle off when I left the house?" Rather, the question in mind was "What in God's name does an onion have to do with my eternal happiness?"
It was a reasonable question. Perhaps not the most well-sought-after question that was ever dreamt up, but to his specific predicament, it was acceptable.
Soon he reached the bottom of the well and stepped of the ladder. He looked around and saw to his amazement not just the bottom of a well, but rather the opening to a large tunnel. Dominique squinted and peered down the corridor, but it was too dark for him to make out much of anything. After a few failed attempts to see down the tunnel he turned around, and looked up at where he had come from. He craned his neck to see just how far down he had come from, and he had to admit that it was quite an impressive distance. For no apparent reason, he then proceeded to count the steps on the ladder he'd just climbed down. he'd gotten to around thirty-four when he heard a snarly voice behind him.
"What are you standing around gaping at the sky for? You look perfectly idiotic."
Dominique spun around and saw an odd-looking little creature glaring up at him. It had rust-red skin and long tangled black hair that fell down to it's waist. It's teeth and claws were jet black and appeared to be needle sharp. But the most interesting thing about the odd little fellow was it's eyes. They were two golden circles that rested beneath two large furry eyebrows that seemed to be locked in a permanent scowl.
"Oh... um... hello there." Dominique choked. The creature raised an eyebrow.
"What do you want?" it growled. "And why the blazes are you staring at me like that? Haven't you ever seen a Hobgoblin before?"
Dominique didn't really know how to answer that question without being rude. He answered truthfully, "Well... I can't say that I have... actually." The creature's eyes locked on his. "Rhetorical question." it said.
Dominique tried to drown out the feeling of idiocy that was now flooding his head. Whatever attempts that he was making to appeal to the Hobgoblin were obviously failing.
"What are you doing in my well?"
Not really knowing how to answer that question either, he said, "Well... I'm trying find-" Realizing that "onion" would sound ludicrous to ANYONE he happened to meet, not just this moody hobgoblin, he quickly said, "I'm trying to find they key to my eternal happiness." He smiled satisfied, but it faded quickly once he saw the expression on the little creature's face.
"Yeah?"
Dominique tried his hardest to resume speaking, trying to sound as convincing as possible, but failing miserably.
"...and... um... a looking glass told me that I could find it down here. I'm not sure why... but that's the answer it gave me."
The hobgoblin stared at him for a while. "Well... I can tell you two things, mate." it said. "One, taking advice from talking pieces of glass doesn't sound like and effort-worthy goal to me.."
"It was MAGIC looking glass, I'll have you know." Dominique quickly added.
The hobgoblin rolled it's eyes. "Oh a MAGIC looking-glass. Well exCUSE me." it said. "It's still just a talking piece of glass." Dominique shrugged and the hobgoblin continued. "Two, this is the bottom of a bloody well, mate. I doubt you're going to find anything particularly appealing to you. Trust me. I've lived down here my entire bloody life."
Dominique could feel his enthusiasm being squelched already, but he refused to give up. "Listen... I'm not really looking for anything. The looking glass told me I had to go down a well, meet a creature and it would challenge me to something and if I defeated it it would give me the key to my eternal happiness."
"Really now." the Hobgoblin said. "Well I'm sorry to smoke your aspirations mate, but theres' really not much I can challenge you at."
Dominique asked. "How 'bout A riddle contest."
The hobgoblin shook it's head. "Don't know any."
"A duel?"
"Hey now! I'm no savage. That's just cruel!"
"A physical sport of some kind?"
"I'm so out of shape, that wouldn't even be a fair contest."
Dominique slumped against the wall. "Well I might as well toss the whole thing because I'm all out of ideas."
The hobgoblin thought for a minute, and then suggested, "Well... we could play chess. I have a board and stuff."
Dominique looked up and smiled. "Yeah, sure. That'll do."
The hobgoblin began to walk down the tunnel and the hobgoblin followed him close behind. "My name's Domnique" he said trying not to loose his way ion the dark.
My name's Alonsorafato Corrafanato." The hobgoblin answered. "But you can call me Alonsy. Everyone else does."
Dominique sighed. "Thank God. That's quite a mouthful.'
Alonsy glanced back at him. "For humans it is. I's actually quite short for a hobgoblin. Alonsorafato is an abridged version of my full name, which is Alonsorafatoarchelpellicato."
Dominique whimpered and stared ahead. "That's what I thought." sneered Alonsy.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Soon the familiar lighting appeared ahead. Alonsy and dominique emerged from the dark tunnel into an open clearing. Dominique studied his surroundings and noted that this "clearing" was actually quite cluttered. It was packed wall-to-wall with furs, scraps of metal, random stones and a single table on which a box and a chess set lay.
"Here we are" said alonsy. "Home sweet home."
Dominique sat down on a nearby stone when he heard a voice coming from directly underneath his rump.
"Excuse me" it said "But you are sitting on my head. Would you kindly move?"
Dominique shrieked and jumped up. "Alonsy, that rock just talked to me.!"
Alonsy continued to set up the pieces where Dominique left off. "Yes, I know." he said. "It's getting him to shut up that's the trick."
Dominique stared down at the apparently animate object with disbelief. It's not everyday a perfectly normal-looking boulder speaks to you and tells you to get off it's noggin.
"I"m sorry. Dominique croaked. "I was unaware that rocks could... er... talk."
"I'm a stone, actually. But I forgive you. For the time being."
Dominique looked around nervously. "Is there any other talking items that I should be aware of?"
Alonsy shook his head. "No. It's just us down here. Dominique, this is my companion, Kram, He is, as he said, a stone."
Dominique nodded politely. He didn't want to risk sitting on another one of Alonsy's companions, so he just sat on the ground.
Once the board was set up, Dominique and Alonsy drew pawns and began the game. Kram looked up curiously at Dominique, "You mean you came all the way down this well just to play Alonsy in chess?" he asked.
"It's a long story." sighed Dominique.
Alonsy opened the game with the classic chess opening by moving the pawn out in front of the king two spaces. Dominique concentrated and made his move as well. It wasn't the first time Dominique had played chess in order to obtain something.
"that onion is mine" he thought, although he still had no clue what the onion was for, nor did he have the foggiest idea on how it would make him eternally happy.
Dominique scanned the board and noticed that Alonsy was setting up for what looked suspiciously like the four move win. He grinned and said. "I know what you're doing."
Alonsy looked up at Dominique. "What are you talking bout? You have no idea what I'm doing."
"do YOU have any idea what you're doing?"
Alonsy paused. "Yes..." he shifted his gaze. "Somewhat."
Dominique wasn't certain, but he thought he heard Kram let out a groan.
Minutes ticked by and neither Dominique and Alonsy appeared to have any obvious advantage. The game went on like this for awhile until...
"Ha I forked you! Now you must surrender your queen!" Dominique looked at the board and frowned. he moved his rook 2 spaces to the left and captured Alonsy's bishop. Checkmate, he said.
Alonsy stared at the board. His face flooded with horror and disbelief. "What?!" he shrieked. "How?"
"Man..." Dominique sighed. "You really don't think before you move, do you?"
Alonsy scowled at him with his fiery hobgoblin scowl. "Very well... you won." He pointed a long clawed finger at the tunnel. "Now leave."
"Wait a minute." Dominique said suddenly. "What about they key to my happiness?"
"Ah! Right!" Alonsy grunted. He felt around a pile of junk behind him, half-searching, half tunneling. After a minute or so he emerged from the mountain of stuff and threw a small bag of jelly beans at Dominique. "You can have this, I suppose."
Dominique looked ta the bag and then at Alonsy. "What about my onion?" he asked.
"Onion?" Alonsy scratched behind his ear. "You never said anything about an onion."
"But I need one!" cried Dominique "The looking glass told me that I needed to get and onion fro a creature at the bottom of the well to obtain supreme happiness."
"Look," said Alonsy, he patience wearing thin, "I don't have any onions. And I'm really sick of hearing about this looking glass. Maybe you got the wrong well or something. "Suggested Alonsy, pushing Dominique out the door.
"But...!" protested Dominique, but it was no use. The door slammed shut in his face.
----------------------------------------------------------
"Man..." groaned Alonsy, plopping down next to Kram. "Humans. I'll never understand them or their bloody superstitions."
"It's a puzzle of nature indeed, Alonsy." answered Kram.
Alonsy rested his head in his hands and took in a deep breath. He turned to look at his companion. "Say Kram.." he asked.
"Yes?"
"What is that odd smell?"
Kram didn't answer him. Alonsy stood up and looked around. He sniffed about, looked at Kram, then lifted up the stone and looked beneath him. "What's this?" Alonsy took a closer look. "ONIONS?!" He snarled and put Kram back on the ground. "Why didn't you tell me you had onions?" he hissed through his needle sharp teeth.
"Well..." began Kram.
"Nevermind" interrupted Alonsy. "I don't want to know."
Kram shrugged in the best way that a stone could and said, 'Well anyway, would you like to play chess, Alonsy? I'll give you an onion if you win."
--------------------------
But whatever happened to our friend Dominique? Well, he was feeling very glum that he didn't receive his onion, so he left the well and traveled across many lands searching for the key to eternal happiness. On his quest, he had the opportunity to play many different people in chess and as a result, found that he was very good. Dominique then forgot all about his quest for eternal happiness and practiced his chess skills until one day, he became a chess grand-master and it was there... not in an onion, that he found eternal happiness.
MORAL: Follow your passions, for they will point you in the right direction.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE MISADVENTURES OF ALDEBARAN AND SIGFRIED QUINCY
Book 2: "Aldebaran talks to some Trees and Sigfried Throws a Panic Attack."
"Well, thats a very interesting perspective on the elements of smooth jazz, Miss Spruce... but I can't help but wonder if you've ever thought
to... you know... broaden your horizons a bit?"
The young man in the leather trench coat, blue shirt and yellow tie looked puzzingly up at the aging spruce.
.
"You know..." he began "...I myself am a fan of many different genres of music, and I find myself to be VERY emotionally satisfied. ... No, I've
never ACTUALLY seen Miles Davis in concert, but... what's that? .... Well yes, I do suppose he's shown mankind a better perspective on
the potential of African-American artists and jazz itself... no I can't say that I have. ...Indeed? ...Well then."
The young man in the black leather trench coat and the blue shirt and the yellow tie slumped down against the tree's trunk and began to
pick away at the grass around him.
"If you insist. All I'm saying is that you'd do well to be a bit more open minded is all."
He looked up into the sky and concentrated hard on what he was viewing above him. The way the clouds swirled about to make little
shapes that looked vaugley like little grey gorilla turds. He closed his eyes, and sighed.
"Well... that's irony for you. I have a car and an indomitable will... and here I am chatting away to a coniferous plant."
He jerked his head toward the trunk of the tree. "No offense."
The tree's branches fluttered in the breeze as if to reply. He nodded, then sank down lower into a more comfortable position. He closed his
eyes and let his head rest on a root sticking upwards out of the ground. It wasn't the most comfortable of head-resting mechanisms, but it
was indeed there to be used for something. It may have as well been a head-rest. The sounds of the breeze rolling over the landscape and
the leaves rustling away acted as a lullaby and soon, the man with the black trench coat, the blue shirt and the yellow tie was fast asleep
under the spruce tree he had, untill very recently, been involved in a deep converation with.
"Aldebaran..."
The groggy human slowly opened one eye to see who it was that was calling out to him.
"Aldebaran... wake up you stupid boy!"
"That voice..." he croaked, "I know I've heard it somewhere before..."
"Aldebaran! Are you quite finished dreaming about flying tuna fishes and ready to wake up and listen to what I have to say?"
"Well that depends... what DO you have to say and how long will it take you to say it?" Aldebaran sat up and rubbed his neck. "... and IS
whatever you have to say, in fact, just as or more interesting than flying tuna fishes?"
"If you choose to interpret it that way, yes."
"Who are you anyway? I can't... I can't see you."
"Step into the light, Aldebaran, and you shall see me in my true form."
"True form... hang on? Are you God?"
"I might be... if you choose to interpret it that way."
"What does that mean? Either you're God or you're not. Stop messing with my head! It's too early for that sort of jazz."
"Aldebaran..."
"What?"
"...it's nearly two in the afternoon."
Aldebaran's eyes shot wide open.
"Is it?!" He jumped up and ran for his car. "Well forget you then, I have a hair appointment I'm late for!"
At that moment, a hand reached out and touched his shoulder. Aldebaran spun around to find himself face to face with...
"Sigfried Quincy?!" he cried. "Oh come on now, that's not really you, is it? I caught wind that you died last week in some apartment
complex. I was going to go to the funeral, but I had a hair appointment and... oh I'm so sorry." Aldebaran's eyes locked on to his. "I hear it
was quite a painful and tragic sort of death, actually."
Sigfried narrowed his eyes at him. "It was."
"Oh, well... I'm sorry to hear it." He offered Sigfried a partially melted chocolate bar from his pocket, but he politely declined.
Sigfried Quincy, an oddly-dressed actor from Liverpool, was considered a less-than-normal sort of man where he was from. Always milling
about, philosophizing, smiling at strangers, giving money to beggars if they made him laugh... that sort of thing. But despite being a very
gregarious sort of man, he enjoyed spending a great deal of his time alone. In fact, he really only left his house to audition for theatrical
productions, have a pint down at the pub, and to buy food for both himself and his half-dozen cats. This he didn't consider much of an effort
for himself because both he and his half-dozen cats ate from the same bag.
How exactly Sigfried found Aldebaran is still a mystery because he changes the story every time he asks him. But the skeleton of the tale is
that one seemingly tranquil mid-afternoon, Aldebaran was out conversing with a particularly charming poplar when he just sort of...
popped up. He originally came to warn Aldebaran about some apparent death threat on his life from some very arrogant people who were
against the prospect of talking to trees. Aldebaran kidnapped Sigfried and forced him to help bring to justice his would-be assassins.
Everything turned out swimmingly, and Aldebaran allowed Sigfried to return to his usual routine of acting, smiling at strangers, eating cat-
food out of the bag, etc.
But since then, Sigfried has come to visit Aldebaran and adventure with him frequently, and Aldebaran is very grateful to him for it. He finds
Sigfried a very entertaining and interesting fellow... of course, one could make the argument that any oddly-dressed actor from Liverpool
that eats cat-food out of the bag is interesting. But upon his frequent visits, Aldebaran took it as an indication that Sigfried found found HIM
interesting... of course, one could make the argument that any bright-eyed bloke who talks to trees is interesting.
"Well it's lovely to see you again, Sigfried! As always." Aldebaran cheerfully welcomed his friend.
Giving him a friendly wave and s smile, he walked to Aldebaran's temporary camp beneath the spruce tree and firmly shook his hand.
"And it's an absolute pleasure to be welcome here, Aldebaran. As Always."
Without missing a beat, he looked over at the lovely young spruce that Aldebaran had until recently been in a deep conversation with. "Still
talking to trees, I see."
Aldebaran nodded. "How's life on the D-list, Sigfried?"
Sigfried stared at Aldebaran puzzled. "I don't follow.
"Don't you watch Kathy Griffin?"
"I've never heard of her."
"Oh... well... that's too bad. She's quite good. I think you'd like her."
"What? Is she a congresswoman or something?"
"No... she's a comedian."
"Congresswomen, comedians... they're all the same to me, Aldebaran."
For the moment, Aldebaran had to agree with him.
Sigfried stretched out in the grass and looked at the spruce tree. "Felt like a good conifer today?"
One thing the Aldebaran liked about Sigfried Quincy in particular was that he didn't consider his habit of talking to trees remotely abnormal.
As a matter of fact... there wasn't a whole lot that Sigfried considered to be remotley abnormal. This was probably why Sigfried was so
abnormal to Aldebaran... of course, keep in mind that Aldebaran is a bloke who talks to trees, after all.
"Yes." he answered gleefully. "They lift me up when I'm having a rough day."
"Are you having a rough day?"
"Apart from my increasing frustration that I cannot see my forehead, no. Not especially." Aldebaran again offered Sigfried the partially-
melted chocolate bar, and Sigfried, once again, declined, so Aldebaran took a bite out of it himself.
"Aldebaran, there are things we need to discuss."
"Oh really now? What sort of things?" Aldebaran asked as he licked the melted chocolate off his fingers. "I say... that's got to be the most
delicious chocolate bar I've ever tasted."
Sigfreid Quincy ran his fingers through his curly hair. "I need you to focus, Aldebaran. It's very important. Now.. when was the last time that
you and I gave blood together?"
Aldebaran took a seat in the grass beside him. "I don't think you and I have ever given blood together, Sigfried."
"Haven't we?" Sigfried looked a little hurt. "Perhaps I dreamed that we did...?" Aldebaran shrugged.
"Well at any rate," he continued, "Do you watch the news, Aldebaran?"
"No." he answered truthfully. "I find it depressing. There's always a story about some tragic death. I find it ghastly."
"Precisely the reason I watch it... but that's not important. You shouldn't skimp out on watching the news, Aldebaran. I used to do it
carelessly myself for quite a long number of years. But as soon as the media found out what I was doing, they tracked me down and
tragically murdered me in my flat."
"...your what?"
"Apartment complex."
"Ah! Okay! I see now. Carry on."
It was the most painful and strenuous sort of death. My apparent demise was their headline story the next morning."
"Oh dear... I'm very sorry to hear that."
"Yes... it was very unpleasant needless to say, but I survived. It was difficult and took quite a bit of apricot juice, but I survived."
Aldebaran smiled and gave Sigfried a hearty pat on the back. "Well good for you, Mr. Quincy!" he said. "That's not an easy thing to
accomplish, you know, surviving death!"
"I'm surprised I managed it myself actually."
"They threw you a big party down at the office, I imagine?"
"Oh yes. It was wonderful!" Sigfried smiled fondly. "We had an ice-sculptured goose and eleven different flavors of crisps."
"...eh?"
"Potato chips."
"Oh! Well that's just grand!" Aldebaran stood up. "Listen, I'm sorry to leave you so soon, Sigfried, but I do have a rather important hair
appointment that I really must be-"
Sigfried grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back onto the root. "I'm not through with you yet!" His fond smile turned to a burning look of
concern.
"Aren't you?" Aldebaran frowned. "Well then, I suppose I have no choice but to call the stylist and reschedule. " He whipped out a blue cell
phone and began to dial. Sigfried stared at him in absolute horror.
"You musn't do that!" he cried.
"Why not? I have unlimited calls after two in the afternoon."
Sigfried whispered through his clenched teeth. "The media has tapped all your phone lines. If you make a call, any call, they'll hunt you
down and murder you the way they did me."
Aldebaran looked at him for a moment, but then smiled and told him in a reassuring voice, "Oh, don't worry, Sigfried," He held up his
phone. " Verizon wireless, my friend. I've got my own private military."
Sigfried relaxed a bit. "Oh, well alright then. In that case go ahead and make your call. I'll wait."
Aldebaran did so, and not only did he reschedule with his stylist successfully, but he also saved quite a bit of money because he did not
get his hair cut on a weekend as originally planned, therefore the getting-your-hair-cut-on-the-weekend tax was dropped. In addition to this
good fortune, he was totally unaware that his horoscope in the paper that morning had in fact read:
"Today you will reschedule your hair appointment after being warned about a little boy's impending death by an oddly-dressed actor from
Liverpool."
He folded up his phone and put it back in his pocket. "Now what is it that you need to tell me?" Aldebaran inquired.
Sigfried nervously shifted his eyes. "I need to give blood, Aldebaran... but I'm afraid. I'm terribly afraid"
"Of needles?"
"No, not of needles! I rather like the needles. I'll sometimes poke myself with needles if it's not too humid out."
"Well what are you afraid of, then?"
Sigfreid rubbed his neck and looked up into the sky. "I'm... afraid of red liquid in plastic baggies."
There was a pause.
"Are you?" Aldebaran asked, trying to sound as understanding as possible.
"I'm afraid so."
"Well... you don't HAVE to give blood if you don't want to."
"I want to."
"Why?"
"Well I have a very rare blood type."
"Do you?"
"Oh yes. Blood type CDEFGHIJKLMN positive."
Aldebaran frowned. "I've never heard of the blood type in my life.
"Of course you haven't. It's a very rare blood type." Sigfried snapped. "It's the blood type between B negitive and O positive."
"I gathered that." But something still didn't make much sense to Aldebaran. "Why do you want to give blood?"
"Well if you watched the news..." began Sigfried, still a little frustrated. "... you'd know that there's a little boy who's been diagnosed with
Hemochameleon. He's in critical condition right now. He's lying on his deathbed, and needs a blood transfusion or..."
"Or?"
"... his blood will turn rainbow."
"GHASTLY!" Aldebaran cried. "Is it fatal?!"
"Fatal? Oh heavens, no!"
"But..." Aldebaran was confused. "I thought you said he was dying."
"Of humiliation. What else? How would you feel having rainbow blood?"
Aldebaran didn't really know how to answer that question.
"Anyway... I feel like I owe something to the world. To that boy with rainbow blood." Sigfried closed his eyes. "I feel like I should help him."
He began to noticeably tear up.
Aldebaran cocked his head. "Do you get this sentimental with every little dying boy you see on television?"
"Yes." Sigfried eyed his friend. "Now can you, or can you not help me cure my fear of red liquid in plastic baggies?"
Hesitantly, Aldebaran agreed to help him. After all, Sigfried had hesitantly... in fact somewhat reluctantly agreed to help him fight off his
would-be assassins. He didn't think it would be any big deal.
Of course... like many of the things that Aldebaran thought, he was horribly wrong.
"Alright, Sigfried... I'll help you." Aldebaran declared. "I mean... there wouldn't be much of a plot-line if I refused you, would there, readers?."
"Hey now!" hissed Sigfried slapping his friend across the face, "That's breaking the fourth wall, you git! You could have the fiction police
after us in an instant if you attempt that too many times!"
"Sorry." Aldebaran rubbed his sore cheek.
Sigfried took his hand and reached into his leather satchel. He pulled out a little white box.
"We'll start with the teapot."
Now Aldebaran didn't really know what Sigfried meant when he suggested starting with the teapot. He had at first assumed that he meant
that he wanted to enjoy a relaxing cup of tea with him before he began his first session.
Again, he should have known better.
The next thing Aldebaran knew, he was pouring red kool-aid out of the teapot and into a little plastic baggie. Every now and then, a
nervous and sweaty Sigfried would cry out, "STOP! STOP! THAT'S ENOUGH! THAT'S ALL I CAN BEAR RIGHT NOW!" and Aldebaran
would stop pouring the kool-aid , and Sigfried would finish hyperventilating, catch his breath and stare at the baggie for a few minutes.
After a moment of that, he would nod and Aldebaran would begin pouring the kool-aid again and the whole process would start over.
That was Sigfried's rehab.
But it seemed to work, because as time progressed, Sigfried panicked less and less, and after about an hour of pouring kool-aid out of the
teapot into the baggie, he was able to watch it without any obvious signs of his irrational fear.
So that afternoon, Sigfried and Aldebaran made their way down to the clinic and Sigfried gave as much blood as he could give without
potentially killing himself. Sigfried also had requested to the doctor that his blood be brought directly to the dying little boy with rainbow
blood. The doctor scratched his head and told him that he honestly had no idea what he was talking about, but he'd look into it.
As they left the clinic, Aldebaran asked Sigfried, "How do you think that doctor didn't know about the little boy with rainbow blood?"
Sigfried shrugged. "I don't know, Aldebaran. It bothers me, the ignorance of the medical professionals." He looked up into the sky and
muttered, "Then again... perhaps I dreamed of the little boy dying of rainbow blood. I can't recall. My dreams are awefully hard to tell from
reality."
Aldebaran looked worried.
Sigfried noticed his reaction and assured him, "I have exceptionally realistic dreams. One night I dreamed that I was sleeping in my bed.
When I woke up I was tightrope-walking across a clothesline."
Aldebaran's expression didn't change. Sigfried smiled at him. "I'm sorry, Aldebaran. You've been a great friend. Would you like to come
home with me? I have more than enough cat food."
"No thanks, Sigfried."
"Are you sure? It's guaranteed to give you a smooth, silky coat. Well... personally, I haven't received mine yet, but I'm sure it's in the mail."
"It's okay, Sigfried. I think I'll stick to talking to trees for now."
"Suit yourself, then."
And the two parted ways for the day, thus bringing this particular misadventure to a close.
THE END
But just as the author closed her tale, Aldebaran rushed back onto the scene.
"Readers, I apologize for breaking the fourth wall... again... but I need to know, do you think that the general plot of the story was too-"
But Aldebaran never got the chance to finish his question because at that instant the fiction police pulled up and hauled him off to jail.
THE END (reprise)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AGNES THE HAGFISH AND THAT OTHER GROTESQUELY SAD TALE
"Don't Tease the Tiger, Son"
Once upon a time, there was a happy little zoo. And in that happy little zoo lived all sorts of happy little animals who
all got along quite well with each other, The zookeepers were kind and respectful to the animals. They fed each
animal what it required dietarily, and made sure that their habitats were all comfortable. By respecting the animals,
there was always an established sense of peace and trust between the animals and the humans that came to visit
them.
Among the Animals, was a particularly large tiger named Tara. She was a kindly tiger for the most part, patent, trusting and
didn't mind children. Tara didn't particularly LIKE children, she just didn't mind them when they came to visit her.
But despite Tara's relatively stable personality, she also had very bad cases of PMS. She would get migraines and
get very very moody. It would just so happen that Tara was having ther worst case of PMS that she had ever
experienced where this tale begins.
Tara the tiger was curled up into a small ball at the far edge of her cage, trying to get to sleep so she could escape
the idiocy of life when...
"BANG!"
She shot up into the air, her heart was racing and she was out of breath. She spun around to see what had made the
startling noise, ad to her rage saw a little fat boy laughing at her. She was about to reach out of the cage and rip open
the boy's throat when the child's father came running over to him.
"What was that noise?" he asked.
The little fat boy giggled and said "I kicked the tiger's cage, daddy! It was funny! It jumped like nintey-gazillion feet in
the air!" The little boy giggled and laughed.
Tara snarled at him. She couldn't hear what the little fat kid was saying, but could see his round little gut jiggle. "Oh
how I'd like to take a bite out of that." she thought. "How I'd love to claw a gash into that stupid little tummy of his
and spill his guts all over the pavement."
The father shook his head and said solemnly. "Don't tease the tiger, son." The little fat boy giggled and said.
"Okayyyyy, daddy."
Tara watch the man leave and thought to herself, "Ok... I'll give that little plump human another chance." and she
curled up and went to sleep.
Tara was pleasantly enjoying her slumber. She was in the middle of a dream about killing fat healthy water-buffalo,
when...
"BANG!"
She cried out and leapt into the air. Once again, she was hyperventilating and her heart was racing. On top of that,
she woke to find that she had an ungodly headache. It felt like someone had taken a nail-gun to her eyeballs. She
roared and turned around to see the same little fat boy rolling around on the ground laughing at her.
"THIS TIME YOU DIE!" she thought, She charged at the bars where the little boy stood behind and was about to drag
the fat little brat in with her, but the child's father quickly pulled his son away from the cage.
"Don't tease the tiger, son!" His father warned him, putting him down.
"Awwwww, but daddy, it jumped really high and roared at me! It was funny!"
"It's not funny at all. Don't tease the tiger, son. Please." the father warned,
"Awwwww... okay daddy." the little boy whined,
Tara was having all varieties of happy mental images of the little fat boy's mangled cadaver strewn about her cage.
She longed to hear his screams and shrieks for unattainable mercy... but it wasn't to be. she curled up quite close to
the edge of the cage and tried to go to sleep. And she did.
Tara was fast asleep. She could feel no pain, no anger, no head-splitting migraines. She was, for once, at peace. But
it wasn't long before...
"BANG!"
Her eyes shot open, and she was face to face with the jolly countenance of the fat boy who's apparent purpose in life
was to make her life a living inferno. He giggled and laughed and pointed at her.
But this... this was the final straw for Tara. Her migraine was like a lightning-bolt to her cranium. Her lack-of-sleep
was so apparent that large droopy rings sagged under a pair of raging bloodshot eyes. Tara went mad.
She reached out of the cage and grabbed ahold of the little boy's neck. She snapped it, killing him instantly, and tried
to pull the child into the cage with her. She roared and tugged and pulled and twisted, but the body was just too
plump to fit through the bars, so she had no choice but to nibble him down to size. She nibbled and nibbled, starting
with the head, but working her way down. She chewed the ears, and savored the eyes. The skull was a little crunchy,
but she managed to swallow it... piece by piece. Blood gushed from the boy's veins filling her mouth. It's metallic
essence was sweet as nectar to Tara. Sweet as nectar.
Meanwhile, the child's father was looking around for his son. He searched the primate house, scanned the aquarium,
and looked around the aviary... but he couldn't locate hide nor hair of his offspring... and then a horrible thought hit
him. The tiger.
He ran as fast as he could towards the tiger cage, following the screams and shrieks coming from that general area.
His worst fears became a reality when he pushed through the final layer of crowd, he saw the carnage before him and
let out a long wail. Because you see, what was once his son was now no more than a bloody stump in corduroy
trousers, locked in the death-grip of a tiger.
So you see, dear children, the moral of the story is... listen to your parents, for they are here to guide you. And more
importantly... please... please... do not tease the tiger.
"Agnes the Hagfish"
There once was a hagfish, Agnes the hagfish, who lived at the bottom of the sea inside a dead whale. Agnes never
really questioned why she lived in a dead whale, but was happy there. Not only that, but she had been warned by her
parents when she was little to stay away from the surface. "Fishermen" they warned "will catch you and turn your
hide into yuppie leather." And that was a good enough reason for her.
Now Agnes had a friend, Sally Seahorse, who really did like Agnes, but thought the prospect of her living in a
deceased whale was absolutely revolting.She would refuse to go to her house for tea because she didn't want to be
seen walking into the corpse of a whale. My no! What would the neighbors think? So Sally would insist on Agnes
coming to her house inside a cluster of lovely pastel-pink coral.
Agnes didn't mind having tea at Sally's house, but she couldn't understand why Sally avoided coming to her whale for
tea. It was a nice whale, as far as whales go. She was always careful to lick it clean so the decay didn't get out of
control, and she made sure to check for nematodes monthly, so not only was it a nice whale, but a well-maintained
whale at that.
But no matter what Agnes said, nothing would convince Sally to come over for tea.
One lovely afternoon, Agnes was at Sally's house of lovely pastel-pink coral sipping tea.
"Agnes," said Sally, in a matter-of-fact voice. "as your friend, I need to advise you to leave that revolting whale
carcass of yours and move to a more pleasant location. Perhaps nearer the surface. I mean, it's so dark and dismal
down there on the ocean floor. If you were nearer the surface, you would have all this lovely light. It would really be a
breath of fresh water for you, Agnes."
Agnes was unsure. "Oh... I don't know, Sally, I've lived in my whale since before I can remember."
"And what a better reason to move? Hmm? Think of it as an opportunity. A new experience."
"Well... my parents always told me that if I spent too much time near the surface, a fisherman would catch me an
turn my hide into yuppie leather."
"Preposterous!" chuckled Sally. "Fishermen are a myth. A long-forgotten fear of the past. I've lived my whole life up
hear near the surface, and I've never seen a fisherman. Ever."
"Ever?"
"Ever." Sally smiled. "Why not? What have you got to loose, Agnes?"
"I'm still not sure, Sally. My species is pretty old. We have an unusually long memory, and I don't think my parents would lie to me."
Sally laughed. "What about when they told you about the Easter Bluegill?"
"Yeah... but..."
"And Santa Clam."
"Well..."
"And the Tooth Fish?"
"Okay... okay. I'll try it... but I still have this bad feeling in my gut, Sally."
"Oh... that's probably the ghastly decaying whale you've been eating all those years. Nothing a little sunshine won't
cure."
So Agnes swam back to her whale and packed. When she had everything together, she looked around the carcass
that had been her home all her life.
"Well... I guess this goodbye. I'm going to miss you, whale." she wiped a tear from her eye and began to swim
towards the surface.
But she still had the bad feeling in her gut.
Sally found her a home in a kelp-bed, so Agnes unpacked and settled down, but that bad feeling in her gut still
wouldn't cease.
A week passed, and now that she was out of that "ghastly revolting whale carcass", Sally was willing to come to her
house for tea, and Agnes had to admit that it was nice being a hostess for a change. But something told her that she
should flee this seemingly cozy kelp bed and move back to her whale.
When she brought this up to Sally, she frowned and said "Now Agnes, I thought I had talked some sense into you.
You're finally settled down in a nice sunny house and there's no rotting flesh on the walls... I can finally come over for
tea... why would you ever want to move back to that revolting dead whale?"
"I don't know. Something's just telling me to."
"Well ignore it, Agnes. That's all I can tell you. ignore it and it will go away." Sally took the last sip of her tea and said
"Now I have to do some shell-shopping. I'll catch up with you tomorrow, dear."
So Sally left and Agnes decided that it was late enough that she should probably get some sleep. So she slithered
into a corner and closed her eyes. Soon she was fast asleep.
But... in the middle of the night... a diver descended upon her kelp-bed. He pulled back the leaves and saw her
sleeping there. So he snatched up poor Agnes and put her into a cage, and lifted her out of the water where
fishermen killed, skinned and dried her. and she was promptly manufactured into yuppie leather.
The moral of this story, dear children, is that you should never let peer-pressure rule over your gut-instincts.
<-- C'mon people. They're free. 
