Absulum the Reindeer Elf
worked in the reindeer barn.
He had to clean it everyday
and that was rather hard
for it was such a dirty job
to mop and slop and scour and scrape
every corner, nook and cranny
in that reindeer place.
Absulum the Reindeer Elf
had to keep the reindeer groomed.
He had to give them all a bath.
He had to feed them too.
Cook their meals, brush their fur
and fill that barn with hay
and every morning when he woke
he would have to do it all over again.
Absulum the Reindeer Elf
played nurse and doctor too.
He took care of all the reindeer
if they were sick or had the flu.
He fixed their sleigh, he mended their reins
and if they were sad he would wipe their tears.
He worked his fingers to the bone
but it seemed that no one cared.
Of course the elves in Santa's Workshop
they were such a happy lot
singing songs all day long
with that jolly happy Santa Claus.
They laughed and danced from toy to toy
as if it was such fun
while outside in the reindeer barn
was the Elf named Absulum.
Absulum the Reindeer Elf,
when he heard that happy noise,
would wish he was a Workshop Elf
making Christmas toys;
but a Workshop Elf is wise and tall
and Absulum was not
and that was why he was in that barn,
well that is what he thought.
Now, it was on a Christmas Eve
when this incident occurred,
Santa's sleigh was flying high
there was no reason for concern
until the wind came up
and the snow came down
in a blinding wall of white
and all the reindeer say
that it set the stage
for the tragedy that took place that night.
Through that snow the reindeer flew
with neither fear nor fright
but the wind grew strong
and stronger still
until a blizzard grabbed
that Christmas night.
And it shook that night,
it shook the sky
and it shook that reindeer sleigh.
The reindeer they could hardly see
so soon they lost their way.
They were tumbling twisting
turning topsy-turvy
'round and 'round.
They hit the tree tops
flipped the sleigh
and smashed into the ground.
The reindeer sleigh was broken
it was scattered everywhere.
There were parts and pieces on the ground
over here and over there.
Christmas toys torn from their wrapping,
ribbons tangled in the trees
and there upon the forest floor
lay Santa Claus, and all could see
that he was hurt from the tragic crash
but just how bad no one would ask.
For asking might be finding out
an answer no one cared to know.
The reindeer gathered 'round him
each one limping, scraped or cut
and one by one they called his name
"Oh, Santa Claus? Get up!"
But not one move did Santa make
not a flicker not a sound
and every single reindeer there thought,
"What will we do now?"
The sky was black there was no light
no moon or shining star.
The reindeer huddled close for warmth
around Santa Claus who was lying there
in such a heap of sadness
pines and twigs caught in his beard.
Then one reindeer thought out loud
"If only Absulum was here."
Then suddenly the reindeer,
well they all began to chant.
"Absulum oh Absulum
do you know where we're at?
Oh Absulum, Absulum
please come we need you now!
Absulum, Oh Absulum,"
the reindeer chanted loud.
"Absulum, Absulum
can you hear us call?
Absulum? Absulum?
Absuuuulllllummmmmm?
Suddenly a star lit up
that stormy Christmas sky
and it fell toward the Earth
and landed there at Santa's side.
The reindeer all stepped back
and gasped in wonder at the sight
of Absulum the Reindeer Elf
and the star he brought for light.
He placed that star upon a tree
and it filled the Christmas sky
then quickly down with reindeer 'round
he was there at Santa's side.
Then on his knees the Reindeer Elf
he breathed a single breath of life
into his mouth and as he did
Santa opened wide his eyes.
"Absulum?" Said Santa Claus.
"Absulum, is that you?"
but Absulum did not answer
for there was too much work to do.
He held his hand up to his mouth
and let loose the oddest scream
that echoed through the forest
through the mountains and ravines.
Now, that scream? It was a creature call,
one he learned when he was young.
It was a call that creatures answered to
and caused them all to come.
And come they did
from hovel, hole,
from cavern, nest and tree
to offer help
to a Reindeer Elf
who was in his hour of need.
Within seconds Squirrel
and Moose and Deer
were there upon the scene.
Raccoon, Fox and Bobcat came
and every bird from every tree.
And every bunny rabbit hopped
and those who had to crawled
to take part in the rescue
of the reindeer and Santa Claus.
Each part and piece of Santa's sleigh
was gathered from the wreck
and brought to Absulum the Reindeer Elf
who began to put the pieces back.
The reins were mangled, tangled torn,
the runners snapped in two
but Absulum the Reindeer Elf
knew exactly what to do.
And so, while he worked on Santa's sleigh,
the creatures all pitched in
to gather up the toys
that were scattered by the wind.
They put the toys back in their wrapping,
tied the ribbons, filled the sack.
By then that sleigh was good as new
so, they threw the sack in back.
Then they helped old Santa to his feet
and up onto the sleigh.
The reindeer they got in as well
wherever they could find a space.
Then Absulum the Reindeer Elf,
he called the creatures 'round.
He placed the reins upon them all
and said, "We're taking Santa home".
Then up into the drivers seat
that tiny elf did climb.
He took the reins
and without delay
commanded them to fly.
Well, that sleigh took off
it left the ground
and headed straight into the sky
being pulled by Moose and Bunny Rabbits
and creatures who weren't meant to fly.
But fly they did and how or why
is not an answer we need know.
You see the question most important is,
"Did they get them home?"
Well, yes they did.
They got them home
and quickly took them in.
Missus Claus fed them chicken soup
then she called to Absulum.
She said, "Absulum, look outside
there are toys still in the sleigh.
You have to get back out there
and deliver them right away."
Absulum looked at Missus Claus.
He knew she was in charge
but, instead of following her orders
he took his reindeer to the reindeer barn.
He tended to their injuries
all that night and all the next day
and as for all those toys outside
well, that is where they stayed.
Because Reindeer Elves
concern themselves
only with what's right
and when taking care of reindeer
is all you know in life
then you do what must be done
to make sure those reindeer never come to harm
and so, now you know
why Absulum works in the Reindeer Barn.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
ABSULUM THE REINDEER ELF
Mr. Coyote Meets Mr. Snail
Mr. Coyote was getting very old and had to be more careful for his own safety. He had been walking for hours and hours through a beautiful valley when he came upon a large tree. Mr. Coyote was very tired and wanted to rest but he also needed to be safe. He kindly asked the tree, "Please open up so I can rest safely in your care".
The tree opened up so that Mr. Coyote could go inside to rest, then it closed to keep him safe. Mr. Coyote slept for hours. When he woke up he could not remember what he had said to make the tree open. He said, "Let me out Mr. Tree", but nothing happened. He said, "Please let me out now!" and again nothing happened. The tree didn’t even creak. Mr. Coyote knocked on the tree, but it would not open up. Mr. Tree was upset with Mr. Coyote for not having said please the first time he spoke to the tree! It let him rest a little longer.
Because the birds heard Mr. Coyote banging on the inside of the tree, they came down to peck on the tree to help get him out. But they were too small and the tree was just too big! Finally Mr. Woodpecker came down and pecked a hole in the tree. Although it was a very small hole, it caused Mr. Woodpecker to get a bent beak! This meant he couldn’t peck on the tree any more.
Mr. Coyote put one hand out the hole but he could not fit through. He then tried his leg but still he could not fit through. He had to come up with a way to escape since Mr. Woodpecker's beak was now bent. Mr. Coyote knew there had to be a way. "Ah, come on you old ugly tree," he cried, "Just let me out!" But still nothing happened, just the silence around him.
Mr. Coyote decided to take off his arms one at a time and put them through the small hole. He then put his legs through one at a time by taking them off. He put his body through by taking it off. This was working out fine. I’ll show you Mr. Tree, you can’t keep me in here, he thought.
Next Mr. Coyote tried to put his head through the hole, but it was too big. His ears were in the way. So he took off his ears and put them through the hole. He again tried his head, but his eyes were too big. Mr. Coyote took his eyes off and put them through the hole.
Mr. Raven saw the eyes and flew down to take them. Then Mr. Raven flew back up high in the tree with Mr. Coyote's eyes. They were such beautiful eyes, blue like the sky, and would be a treasure to put in his hiding spot!
Mr. Coyote finally put his head through the hole. He then put himself back together. One piece at a time he became a whole coyote again. But after he put his head on he could not find his eyes. He was feeling all over. His ears were listening to hear him touch his eyes, but not a sound could be heard from his eyes. His fingers were being careful while feeling around, but still no eyes were found.
Mr. Coyote knew he could not let the animals know he was blind. He felt his way to a wild rose bush; he then put two rose petals in for his eyes. This would cover the blindness for a little while, but he would have to keep looking for his eyes. Surely they were close by!
Along came Mr. Snail who saw Mr. Coyote with the rose petals in his eyes. He asked Mr. Coyote, "Why do you have those rose petals in your eyes?"
Mr. Coyote said, "Because they are very beautiful. They have lovely colors. You can try them if you want and I will hold your eyes."
Mr. Snail took off his eyes. He put them into Mr. Coyote’s hands and tried the rose petals in his eyes. Then Mr. Coyote put Mr. Snail's eyes into his head and ran off with his long tail wagging.
To this day Mr. Snail is crawling with his head down looking for his eyes. And all coyotes have brown eyes instead of blue; this is because Mr. Coyote was naughty when he took Mr. Snail’s eyes. And Mr. Raven still has those beautiful blue eyes in his secret hiding place, but he cannot return them because the secret hiding place was so secret not even Mr. Raven can find it!
Shooflies
It was a beautiful Saturday morning and time to get ready to meet the scheduled trail riders at the lake for the 20-mile ride through the beautiful countryside. Her nephew and youngest brother saddled her horse while she went to select the shooflies to attach to her saddle today. Across the breastplate she clipped six, on the cinch she clipped two, and on the rear of the saddle she clipped two. She stood back to take a good look, and said to herself, "Today both Zoomer and I will look good!"
At the lake she stayed on horseback due to the pain she was feeling in her back and neck; getting off and on would only make it worse. Today she wanted to be able to complete the ride to show off all her hard work on the beautiful and colorful shooflies. By wearing her new ribbon shirt, she looked elegant upon that gorgeous horse with all the beadwork showing on the shooflies. She met the riders, gathered the riding fees, which were placed in the beaded bag tied tight to her saddle, and even had some pictures taken of her and Zoomer!
Today Sti'Tumma would begin the trail ride by trailing the riders. She took her time, although Zoomer wanted to be in the lead of the pack. What a lovely day, open views for nice photos, and she noticed that the riders were taking some lovely shots. Zoomer was becoming impatient, so Sti'Tumma let him walk a bit faster to get to the head of the riders. She was almost to the beginning of the riders when a pair of riders, an elder cowboy and his wife, moved up to talk to her. The lady asked, "We were wondering if you are a medicine lady, you have all the scalps with beadwork on them displayed on your saddle. And we wanted to know how you got anyone to actually touch the scalps to put the beadwork on them."
Sti'Tumma started chuckling, and then broke out in laughter! Her younger brother, the lead trail guide for today, stopped the group to check on his sister. Sti'Tumma decided this was a good spot to take a break and talk about the shooflies she was so proud of. By the time the riders started off again on the ride, the whole Country Trail Ride crew were amazed at how many of these city cowboys and cowgirls didn't understand the Native Americans at all, they still believed there was scalping and raiding going on within the reservation! Scalps, what a joke, now every trail guide would want to be decorated with the "scalps" displayed on their horse to show their "honor within the Tribe"!
Since that ride, and all the jokes and laughter about the medicine lady and her scalps, Gilly has been able to have a dozen "imitation scalps" beaded and ready for sale at each trail ride during the lunch break at the wonderful and remodeled old campsite.
The Master Artist
Contemplating this request, Monsieur l'Abbaye shook his head. "I'm ready to retire, so I'm not available for hire. I'm sorry. I simply can't paint your portrait." But seeing the disappointment in Senior Bartoli's eyes, he continued, "Well, there's a possibility if you can find it in your heart to allow me to explore the limits of my abilities. Not for money mind you, but for food and a bed instead. Furthermore, you need not even pose because my memory's excellent. Already I can see your portrait and how to derive it. But I insist, Senior Bartoli, while I work your portrait stays private -- even from you!"
This is strange, thought the patron, but he also thought about how highly the artist had been recommended. "Of course," he said "Anything you wish, but I insist upon paying you at least something for your effort. Let's draw up a contract."
Now a glint came to Monsieur l'Abbaye's eyes as he gazed upon that 20-foot wall and thought of all that space, such a wonderful place for schemes and things to give imagination wings. Because, unknown to Senior Bartoli, or anyone else for that matter, for all of his career (which was 45 years) Monsieur L'Abbaye had yearned to paint in his own way. And what way was that? Certainly not the style of Byzantine or of Proto-Renaissance. No. Monsieur Signy l'Abbaye had hungered to break free of restraints. But the guild, his craft and livelihood, would never have allowed it so he followed their rules although never proud of it. Of course he didn't reveal this to Senior Bartoli.
Signing the contract, they sealed the agreement.
Immediately the master artist threw a high curtain in front of the wall, a curtain through which Senior Bartoli couldn't see at all. He tried to peek, but Monsieur l'Abbaye insisted on total privacy for his artistic techniques.
A week passed. "How is it coming?" asked the hopeful Senior Bartoli.
Answering him from behind the curtain, Monsieur l'Abbaye said, "It's coming quite well. You know, at the age of eight I was apprentice to the great Ambrogio Lorenzetti. I could never dishonor his name. He taught me the art of grinding pigment, laying plaster, sometimes slowly, sometimes faster. He taught me how to draw and, most important, not to hurry. My training was rigorous and after certification even more vigorous. Senior Bartoli, a masterpiece... takes a while at least."
Reluctantly, Senior Bartoli withdrew.
A month passed. "How is it coming?" Senior Bartoli asked.
"It's coming well," said Monsieur l'Abbaye, again from behind the curtain. Along with his words came the strange sounds of swooshing, clanking and slapping. "You know you're fortunate it's I painting your portrait. Only buon fresco will do. It's four coats of lime plaster. First layer the trullisatio, followed by the arriccio, then the anenato and finally the intonaco not to mention the part where I draw. But it's the best plaster process I ever saw. Senior Bartoli, it will last forever, but alas, it's a time-consuming endeavor."
Sighing deeply, the patron again withdrew. Just how long would this take? Who knew?
Another three, four months passed and finally half a year went by. Senior Bartoli, the patron, marched in demanding of Monsieur l'Abbaye, the master artist, to see his portrait, "You must be finished by now and today I will see it!" he shouted, shaking with frustration.
Stepping from behind the cloth as though surprised by such anger, Monsieur l'Abbaye said calmly. "That's fine. You needed only to request it." And he pulled aside the 20-foot curtain.
Guiliano Bartoli stood for a minute and then his mouth fell open, his eyes turned red and he grabbed what few hairs he had left on his head. He did a little hop, and then a twitch, and his eyebrows contorted as though bewitched. Guiliano Bartoli obviously did not like his portrait, not a bit. Guiliano Bartoli threw a fit.
"How absurd, how obscene. What does this mean? You'll not receive one Florine, do you hear? You're not an artist, maybe a thief or a madman. Get out of my sight! You'll leave my house tonight or I'll throw you out!"
So what had Monsieur l'Abbaye drawn that was wrong? He couldn't see it, he'd fussed and fixed for so long. It was his masterpiece. He wasn't sorry, no, not at all, that he had drawn to his heart's content for 20 feet tall. No matter what anybody could say, Monsieur Signy l'Abbaye had drawn it his way. Perhaps his patron couldn't tolerate his obsession with cubist expression, but Picasso would have been proud.
If truth be told Monsieur l'Abbaye wasn't crazy, surely. He'd simply been born 500 years too early!
Sliver Pete
I've never told this story before, but just the same I'm telling you now.
I was a boy of 8 in 1885 and I lived in a small town out west with my baby sister and my folks who ran the local delivery stable. It might not have been such a bad place except for one man.
His name was Sliver Pete and we thought him the meanest, ugliest, most cussed hombre that ever packed a gun and it was well known he carried a Colt 45. He didn't much like to work, was a cowpoke a few months out of the year and the rest of the time he played and cheated at cards and killed anybody who called him on it. Then for recreation or just pure spite he killed every sheriff that ever tried to arrest him. There wasn't a soul that didn't fear Sliver Pete, even my Father.
The townspeople ended up offering a reward of $20,000 to anyone who could either run Sliver Pete out of town or put him in his grave. Mind you, that was a fortune in those days but when Sliver Pete heard there was a price on his head he just laughed and shot up the saloon and then the bakery. He said he was worth much more money than that. And when stranger after stranger came to collect the reward they came to stay because Sliver Pete put them in the town cemetery.
One very windy day the stagecoach arrived in town with an unusual passenger. I was there to witness it because it was my duty to water the stagecoach horses. The stagecoach door swung open and a single man, tall and gaunt and dressed in a brown/black coat and hat, with a white collar, stepped out. I had seen pictures of Abraham Lincoln and that is who this man reminded me of, although I knew Abraham Lincoln would not have been wearing a preacher's clothes. He waved the coachman away as he reached for his own trunk off the roof of the coach. The trunk was wrapped in a blue cloth that flapped in the wind although partially tied with a rope. Just as he got it to the ground a gust tore at the material and I clearly saw the writing on its side. He grabbed the cloth and stuffed it back into place, glancing straight at me. Then he smiled a slow smile, winked, and put his index finger to his mouth as if to say we shared a secret. That's the only incident I saw myself and all the rest I heard secondhand through either my folks or my friends.
The man called himself Preacher Dan. He said he hadn't come to stay but he was in our town on the Lord's business to get money to build a church. He'd already acquired most of it, but people were surprised when he said he planned on making the remainder by playing cards and that God had told him he would win the rest that he needed in just one night. Although such behavior was improper for a preacher nobody questioned it. He had a quiet manner and quick smile and, anyway, strangers never stayed too long.
That afternoon the card game started early. Among the four players around the table was Sliver Pete. Sliver Pete was his mean self, slouched in his chair with a whisky at his elbow. I was told Preacher Dan didn't say a word the first hour although he smiled readily enough if anyone caught his eye.
The first two games were won by Mike McGrew and Tom Eider, town regulars. The purse was small. There was static in the air like just before an electric storm. The third game the purse grew bigger and Sliver Pete won this round. He smiled for the first time and Preacher Dan smiled back.
"Nice going." the Preacher said. "I see the Lord's in need of help tonight."
Sliver Pete smirked.
But Preacher Dan wasn't finished. "I been eyeing that gun of yours. May I see it?"
The room grew suddenly quiet as Sliver Pete's smile vanished as quick as a Bluetail fly beneath a horse's tail swat. "No man touches my gun but me."
"Oh. I didn't mean anything by it," the Preacher grinned. "You know I'm not a man. Just a messenger of God. Don't usually cotton to guns either, but I hear you're right handy with one and I sure wanted to see the smoker that's done the damage."
Perhaps it was the hint of admiration in his voice, or maybe God intervened to soften Sliver's mood, but to everyone's surprise, Sliver Pete unholstered his Colt 45 and put it on the table. His eyes glowered about the room as if daring anybody to disapprove.
Preacher Dan calmly retrieved the gun and examined it thoroughly, looking up the barrel and bouncing it gently in his hand to weigh it. Suddenly, unaccountably it slipped from his fingers onto the floor. Kerplunk...
Sliver Pete jumped to his feet, sliding his chair back with a squeal. But just as quick the Preacher leaned over and retrieved the gun, wiping it with his jacket hem and sleeve. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, handing it back.
"Better sorry than dead," growled Sliver Pete. But there was a noticeable sigh of relief from the room as he holstered the 45 and sat back down.
After that things seemed to pick up speed as the bets got bigger. Mike McGrew pushed away from the table. "Too rich for my blood," he said. Now there were three left at the table, including Sliver and the Preacher, and Sliver Pete was winning big time. He had a small mountain of bills and coins and, recklessly, was playing for bigger and bigger stakes.
If Preacher Dan felt pressure he didn't show it although all his Church money was fast going to Sliver Pete. At last, just before dusk, the last call of cards came and Sliver had won it all. He wrapped his burly arms about the pot and began drawing it to him.
"Just a moment." The voice was soft and deadly and a startled Sliver didn't at first realize it came from the Preacher who added, "You been cheating all night and if you take that money now you can add thievery to the deed."
Sliver's hand went to his gun, but knowing the Preacher didn't carry a gun he held it there like a threat. "I don't cheat and I don't let no one call me one neither. Not even a preacher."
"Is that so? Let the Lord decide. That is, if you care to take your fight to the street where it's right and proper and you're not afraid to meet your maker," said the Preacher.
"Why, you don't even own a gun," sneered Sliver, "And you wouldn't know to shoot one anyhow." He literally spit out the words.
"I'm no match, that fact's assured. But God said I'd have that money tonight and you won't make him a liar." The Preacher's eyes narrowed with serious intent. "So long as someone here sees fit to loan me his gun, whomever remains standing will have spoke the truth."
Because Sliver Pete had never turned down a gunfight in his life and the Preacher was handed a gunbelt with two guns by the bartender, they ended up outside at opposite ends of the street. A small crowd gathered, not so much to witness Sliver Pete kill another man, but in sympathetic support of a foolish preacher who was about to die for the sake of his church.
The two men stood there a seeming eternity, each with their gun hand poised and ready. Then gun fire rang out and the look and smell of gun smoke filled the air. Sliver Pete blew away the smoke at end of his gun barrel as he saw the tall figure of Preacher Dan hit the dirt. Cries of anguish came from womenfolk in the crowd.
But Sliver Pete was unconcerned and made it a point to look bored. He had holstered his gun and started his walk back to the saloon when he noticed the body of the Preacher begin to move. Now Sliver Pete had never failed to kill with his first shot and he watched, fascinated, as the Preacher stood up and again pointed his borrowed gun. So Sliver Pete had to shoot him again, actually two shots just to be sure. The Preacher fell like a cut tree, straight down with his face in the dirt.
Sliver wiped his forehead with his gun hand still holding the gun and his eyes steady on the body of the Preacher. But what he hadn't expected to happen happened yet again. The crowd gasped as they saw the Preacher struggle once more to his feet.
This time Sliver Pete didn't even give the Preacher a chance to aim. For the first time in his life there was fear in his expression. Two gun shots rang out and the Preacher pitched over.
The crowd edged back from the street. There was something decidedly unnerving and otherworldly about this gunfight when a man wouldn't stay dead. It occurred to them maybe the Preacher had spoke the truth about his conversation with God. The same thing had occurred to Sliver Pete, because with a pale face he very slowly approached the body. He was 20 feet away when the Preacher again struggled to his knees and then his feet, this time holding out his hand palm up as if to say, "You owe me that money". The Preacher's black eyes bored into and through Sliver Pete and understandably Sliver responded with panic, this time aiming at the Preacher's head. It was his last bullet.
As the shot rang out Preacher Dan's hand slapped his forehead and his body swung a complete circle before falling face down into the dirt. Nobody and nothing moved except a corner of the Preacher's black jacket caught by a gust of wind. Sliver Pete was shaking so bad he simply couldn't tear his gaze off that body and the crowd looked from him to it and didn't know which was more incredible. They'd never seen Sliver Pete so afraid nor witnessed a dead man come back to life before.
Then there was a small movement just at the waist. A bird, a white dove, struggled free from beneath the body and with a gentle "coo, coo," flapped its wings and flew up into a cloudy sky and disappeared from sight.
Now I don't know what you would make of that, but the townsfolk and Sliver Pete both saw it as a sign from God. Truly this had been God's messenger and Sliver Pete had just killed the messenger. Unnerved he began backing away and had gotten 10 steps when the Preacher's body twitched and slowly pulled itself upwards to a standing position.
"Where are you going?" it boomed in a deep, sepulcher voice from the grave. "You owe me the Lord's money."
Sliver Pete simply fell apart. He gave a strangled squeak of terror, dropped his gun, whirled on his heels and ran up the street until he was out of sight. The stunned crowd watched him go before setting their fearful gaze back on the Preacher. Standing straight he flashed them a wide, friendly smile and suddenly didn't look so dead. True, there was blood on his forehead but with one sweep of his sleeve it mysteriously disappeared.
"That's one problem you won't see again," he said in a voice again friendly. "And don't worry yourselves 'bout me. Except, that is, unless you don't want to make good on your promise of a reward for getting rid of that snake Sliver Pete." He winked.
The townsfolk were happy to give Preacher Dan the reward. He didn't even collect all of it, only half, leaving the rest for the town church. Nobody ever heard from Sliver Pete again, although it was rumored he hadn't stopped running 'til he'd got to New Mexico, married and become a farmer, never to touch a gun again. People couldn't stop talking about how a man could be shot six times and rise up as if he hadn't been shot at all. But no one dared ask Preacher Dan to explain it and he left town so it remained a mystery to everyone except me.
You see, I remembered the day I saw the writing on the side of his trunk revealed by a pesky wind. It had said, "Dan the Magnificent. Magician's Illusions Great and Small." So Preacher Dan was not a preacher, but a gifted magician. I figure when he dropped Sliver Pete's gun at the card table he switched it for one with blanks. The white dove had just been for effect. Here was a man schooled in the ways of human nature and he had done us a great favor while being paid for his services. I thought at that time far be it for me to give away his secrets.
Some say it wasn't a preacher or even a dead man that got up off that dusty road, but an angel of the Lord himself, and in a manner of speaking that might be so.
But only God, Dan the Magnificent, and me -- and now you -- really knows the truth of what happened on that windy day in 1885.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Second Thoughts
by Carol Moore
DAY ONE
Tuesday, June 15
At high noon a large spaceship floated gently down out of a blue sky to land on the front lawn of the White House. It rested motionless for the next five hours while the White House hummed with activity. The President was evacuated and then the military moved in with troops, tanks and helicopters. Stealth fighters roared overhead. Both Congress and the United Nations called emergency sessions as a frightened world held its breath.
At exactly 5:00 p.m. eastern time, a small door opened in the side of the craft and a human-like creature stepped out.
As beings go, it wasn't that alarming. About three feet tall, it had a large head atop a small body with two spindly legs. And there were feather-like appendages growing from its head as well as from what could have been a tail if it were a bird. But it moved like a human and wore a one-piece uniform of a gold metallic material that sparkled in the sun. Walking to the nearest soldier, it stopped short, its two unnaturally large eyes blinking twice. Then in perfect English with a high-pitched voice, it said, "Take me to your esteemed leader."
After much military and political consternation, the request was granted. Standing before the President of the United States, who was seated at his desk in the oval office surrounded by half a dozen secret agents, the little being bowed. "President and Chief Commander, I humbly come to you as ambassador facilitator for an ancient and distinguished race. Please realize that you're dealing with beings of such power that their purpose must be friendly or you'd have already been destroyed in my humble estimation."
It paused to scratch the base of a head feather. "I myself am Mooba. My kind are respected throughout the universe as the finest of translators. I must tell you that the Xxlepis ship has been moored at the edge of your solar system for a year now while I've been studying your languages and customs on their behalf. I know all there is to know about all of you, in my humble opinion."
The President smiled halfheartedly, "Should I find that comforting?"
Mooba brightened, "Of course. Because I'm thorough I rarely make mistakes." He shrugged. "I'll admit to a few, but none that wasn't rectified. I'm sorry to inform you that yours is not the only species I considered for contact on this planet. There are some others more appealing, but yours is the most intelligent. And yours is also the only species believing themselves in charge."
The President's eyebrows lifted at such a statement.
Mooba continued, "For purposes of decorum, tomorrow I will teach you about the Xxlepis." His top feathers suddenly stiffened. "Be forewarned. Although highly evolved intellectually, the Xxlepis are emotionally fragile and quick to perceive imaginary insults if decorum isn't carefully followed. They're quirky that way--easily offended. And if you offend them you will not reap the benefits they can bestow."
"Fair enough" the President agreed, but his expression was one of puzzlement.
The conversation was over.
DAY TWO
Wednesday, June 16
The next day two soldiers were sent to escort Mooba back to the White House, but he wasn't on the spaceship. Instead, when the President with his staff and secret agents arrived at the meeting room, Mooba was already there. Without anyone noticing, he had left the spaceship, slipped through a ring of military, a mob of reporters and White House staff to find the secured meeting room no one had told him about the day before. It unnerved the President and particularly his secret agents.
Standing at the back of the room Mooba waited for everyone to get settled. Then he abruptly began, "The first thing to do when introduced...is to bow. Some of your human cultures already practice that formality. And the second thing after bowing... is to do nothing." He paused for emphasis. "It's best, Sir President, to allow me to do all the talking, particularly in the beginning. The Xxlepis themselves rarely speak because words to them are sacred. They believe that by saying less, what is said increases in value. So speaking only at the end of a conversation is a sign of respect. Of course, in my humble opinion, that makes for very short conversations." It was hard to tell if Mooba was joking so no one laughed.
The alien continued. "The Xxlepis find it difficult dealing with other cultures, so they take great care to insulate themselves. In addition to being their translator I serve as a filter to shield their refined sensibilities--but still I must be accurate and complete. Not an easy job, in my humble opinion. The Xxlepis are emotional, you see. Despite all their sophistication, they just want to be loved and they can't handle rejection. I think you humans can appreciate that." He watched as one of the staff arose and walked to a table at the side of the room pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"What's that?"
"The President smiled. "It's coffee, a common beverage. And there's also donuts. Would you like some?"
Mooba's top feathers twitched excitedly. "Certainly." He stepped quickly across the room and to everyone's surprise gulped down a whole carafe of hot coffee. Then he grabbed several donuts. Returning to the front of the room, he noisily smacked his lips. Powdered sugar from the donuts had somehow ended up on his chin. It was a comical sight that everyone politely ignored.
"That was tasty," he said, "in my humble opinion. Now, let me explain more about the Xxlepis. Having mastered the mysteries of science and technology, they have returned to the arts, particularly their poetry. They are on a quest for new forms of expression. For example, the 20 ways an elephant calls to its young or the 59 words the Eskimos use for snow. Whether or not a language is written or spoken is of secondary importance. The Xxlepis take pleasure in converting all manner of creature communication into just the right word with a precise meaning and contextual flavor to be used in their poetry. So they traverse the universe in search of communication to define new words because, to them, only words have true value. Personally, I think it's because words convey emotions."
"Speaking of value..." Mooba stopped mid-thought. "Ah... could I have more coffee?"
"Sir, there's no more coffee," said one of the agents addressing the President.
The President waved his hand. "Well then, please get another carafe. It'll only take a minute."
The agent left the room. Through the door, which had not fully closed, squeezed a short, rotund Basset Hound. It went immediately to the President wagging its tail while casting side-glances at Mooba.
"Hi there, Sally," the President gently stroked the dog's back. "Mooba, this is my dog. She just had puppies four weeks ago. What do you think of her?"
Mooba was quite interested, particularly when Sally left the President to approach him, her tail still wagging. He bent over so that his face was almost level with the dog's and she licked the sugar off his chin. His head feathers danced wildly. "I like her," he said and then made a noise somewhere between a bark and a whine. It startled everyone in the room, but Sally woofed in response.
Suddenly, the agent with the coffee appeared. "Here's the coffee, Sir."
At that point Sally was let out of the room. Mooba drank more coffee, after which he continued instructing the President.
"As I was saying, concerning value it's things that have no price that are worth the most to the Xxlepis. Things such as honor or knowledge or joy. That's because emotions, or the intangible, offer infinite possibilities for new words of shading and intensity. When a thing has a price, its value is already set, defined and limited according to the Xxlepis. So instead of price, value for them is in how many words a thing inspires."
"But as for emotions...the Xxlepis fell in love with the Drugans on the planet Phizell because they're always laughing. They have 32 words for 'giggle'. The Xxlepis were so thrilled with this that they made fools of themselves, showering them with half our gifts." He frowned. "I had an awful time convincing them to leave that planet."
Rolling his eyes, the little alien continued.
"Unfortunately, your culture values things more than words. That's what I learned from your television and radio signals. For example, when a commercial says a car has a soul, where does that leave a man? In order to add value to a thing, you've stolen a word meant only for living beings and devalued it. And in devaluing that word you've devalued yourselves. The Xxlepis would never understand and it's better that they not know about it. In my humble opinion."
Mooba patted a tail feather. "On the other hand, your world's libraries are filled with books and are an endless resource for poetry and great writings. Human beings are capable of deep thought and intense emotions and some have a desire to define them. It is these writings that will appeal to the Xxlepis and they will reward you beyond imagination. As long as they remain on this planet they will bestow gifts, so it's to your benefit to please them. That's all I can say."
He bowed and the meeting was abruptly over.
DAY THREE
Thursday, June 17
The introduction of the Xxlepis was set for noon. Although it was an unusually overcast day, that hadn't stopped a huge crowd from forming. At two minutes to 12:00 the President and four secret agents walked slowly up the red carpet and stopped 20 feet from the craft.
With the opening of a large door, a strange green mist emanated from the craft. Then a long and gently sloped ramp slid out upon which Mooba exited. The murmuring crowd hushed as three figures emerged from behind him. The figures were nearly seven feet tall, rather thin, and covered entirely in grey-green flowing robes and hoods. More than anything they resembled Gregorian monks, but it was how they moved that was startling. Although there was not a breath of wind, their robes rippled fluidly and they appeared to pour across the 20 feet coming to rest alongside Mooba and in front of the President and the agents.
Mooba's high voice spoke into the multitude of microphones set up by reporters and it sounded over the PA system. "Members of planet earth, I am pleased to introduce you to the Xxlepis. And, they in turn are very pleased to meet you." As he said this the three beings bowed deeply as did the President and his agents.
Mooba continued, "Supreme Commander, President of the United States and all citizens of earth, I am pleased to inform you on behalf of the Xxlepis that today they would like you to accept this gift that they offer you without reservation." Withdrawing something from a hidden pocket, Mooba handed it to the President.
Accepting the object, which fit into the palm of his hand, the President bowed again. "Thank you."
Seeing the three Xxlepis nodding from beneath their hoods, Mooba added, "The Xxlepis thank you, too."
The crowd roared their approval and the first meeting was over.
DAYS FOUR - TWENTY
Friday-Sunday, June 18-July 4
When the gift was examined, scientists were astounded. The President had been handed a container that turned out to hold bacteria from a distant planet. Because these bacteria could manufacture any mineral, the Xxlepis had cultivated and refined it for multiple purposes. Specifically in humans, once ingested the bacteria became symbiotic with living cells and went about curing deficiencies. The resulting good health was miraculous and the closest thing to a fountain-of-youth elixir that humanity had ever experienced. Furthermore, the bacteria were easily reproduced.
The President wished to reciprocate with a gift of equal value and at Mooba's recommendation commissioned a compendium of sacred writings to be compiled in their original languages. Mooba assured him that as a gift, this would be a delightful surprise for the Xxlepis. It was an ambitious project requiring scholars of every religion and the United Nations was appointed to coordinate it. All nations agreed that no amount of money or effort should be spared to have the gift ready for the next meeting with the Xxlepis.
Mooba hadn't anticipated the effect the Xxlepis would have on their hosts. Mankind became like children at Christmas. While the Xxlepis's gift of health was reproduced en mass, that was just the beginning.
Everything had to be Xxlepis-related. To accommodate the demand, manufacturers broke all records (nearly those of physics) to get out a plethora of products. Overnight Gregorian monk's garb became the fashion craze, gray-green the most popular color until Monday when pastel-greens were introduced followed closely by polka dots. People were dressing their babies and pets in robes with cowls. Xxlepis gray-green began showing up on toys, dish ware, buildings. If imitation is the highest form of flattery then the Xxlepis should have been flattered indeed.
Commercials advertising Xxlepis products had but one theme, life was better with Xxlepis whether you wore Xxlepis clothes or sat on Xxlepis furniture. The inference was, so long as you had Xxlepis you were a somebody with something. Unfortunately, the opposite inference was also true, for without Xxlepis you were considered a nobody with nothing.
The irony was not lost on Mooba who watched commercialism turn the Xxlepis, a race of beings who loved the nonmaterial, into the biggest name brand of all time.
DAY TWENTY-ONE
Monday, July 5
When the President and his staff appeared at the spaceship on Monday noon it was before a vastly different-looking crowd. Although a hot July day, the majority was wearing hooded robes, waving signs and holding banners that said, "Xxlepis rocks!"
This day, upon exiting the craft, the three Xxlepis did not immediately bow. Although their faces couldn't be seen, it appeared that from beneath the cowls they were turning their heads to examine the crowd. Watching them, Mooba's head feathers stiffened noticeably and he frowned.
This time it was the President who came bearing a gift. The President proudly offered the huge book heavy with gold leafing that one of the Xxlepis gingerly accepted, grasping it with long fingers while the other two Xxlepis stretched forward for a closer look. Their grey-green robes cast a greenish hue over the book.
"Please accept this gift from mankind," said the President, his voice trembling. "Over 300 of our finest scholars assembled it from our sacred writings."
Translating, Mooba looked pleased.
Caught up in the moment and almost as an afterthought, the President added, "Millions were spent. With its parchment and gold leafing, it's the most expensive book ever created."
Mooba's head feathers quivered the moment the President said the most expensive book ever created. He didn't look pleased. He stopped translating and stared at the President. "Ah, Sir President, in my humble opinion..." he interrupted, but his warning went unheeded.
"Go on. Tell them," the President urged and Mooba complied.
The reaction was immediate. Shoving the book back at the President, which he almost dropped, the three Xxlepis, murmuring bubbling-clicking noises, whipped about and swept back up into the spaceship faster than anybody thought they could move. Mooba followed as closely behind as his spindly legs allowed. Pausing at the ship's doorway he turned and shrugged as though apologizing just before the metal door slammed shut with a thud.
The President and crowd, indeed the whole nation and all of earth were stunned. They felt like children awakening Christmas morning to discover that their presents had been stolen.
There was no further contact with the Xxlepis although vigorous attempts were made using a PA system as well as radio and television waves and banging on the spaceship doors. Now nobody anywhere talked about anything except the Xxlepis and why they had so abruptly left the gathering. Earth commiserated.
DAY TWENTY-TWO
Tuesday, July 6
Early Tuesday, without ado, the huge spacecraft gently lifted into the morning air and disappeared.
It was then Mooba sought admittance to the White House, shocking everyone because they thought he had left along with his alien employers. Escorted to the President's oval office, Mooba's head feathers began to wave as he moaned sorrowfully. "In my humble opinion, my job is just too difficult."
The President agreed without knowing why as Mooba sat down on a chair. A couple of agents approached to stand behind him. "It's my fault. I thought I'd made you understand, but I was wrong. You meant only to impress when you said the book cost millions to create. But as soon as you gave it a price, in the eyes of the Xxlepis you declared it useless. They were insulted and horrified. They couldn't leave fast enough."
He hesitated and then glared at the President as if to suggest he did share responsibility. Then Mooba sighed. "It's my humble opinion that they'd never have understood your species anyway."
"Well then why are you here?" the President was incredulous.
Suddenly the little alien smiled. "Because unlike the Xxlepis, I don't care about words or meaning or money. Except in the performance of my job, of course. I'm due for a vacation and I'd like a little fun." Before agents could stop him he had jumped up and moved to the President's desk grabbing sour lemon candies from a dish. Popping them into his mouth he made slurping sounds.
The statement was so ridiculous the President had to laugh. "You mean a permanent vacation? Apparently they're never coming back."
Mooba grinned knowingly as his head feathers twitched. "On the contrary. I've been with the Xxlepis 120 years and don't you think that if anybody should know what they're doing and why they're doing it, it would be I? That's my humble opinion. As for selecting your species, I've had second thoughts. But don't worry, Sir President, the Xxlepis will be back. Before their ship left I put a puppy on board."
He popped another sour lemon candy.
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Little Miss Mary and the Big Monster Makeover
| Little Miss Mary was tired of shopping - "I want to have this and I want to have that! I need: a new skirt, and a dress, and a jacket, | ||||
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| Little Miss Mary's Mommy was proud - Little Miss Mary was a chip off the block. But hardly a coup, when ALL posh Mommies coo "Moschino? Versace? Where shall we go next?" | ||||
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| On hearing the news Mary drew a deep sigh: But Mommy had already summoned assistants, They loaded their bags in the big four-by-four. | ||||
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| And off home they drove - Mother and Daughter With pertinent problems like: "How can one tell | ||||
| The traffic, amazingly, wasn't too bad. And that's where we find her - tired from shopping, | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Who works all day long, all night long in the City Little Miss Mary made her Daddy proud Mary would COME, she would SEE, she would BUY! | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| But now she was tired and lay on her bed. She put on her eye-mask and drifted to sleep; | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Soon Little Miss Mary was out like a light, | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
