`The horror of that moment,' the King went on, `I shall never, never forget!'
`You will, though,' the Queen said, `if you don't make a memorandum of it.'
Friday, February 29, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Stranger in Strangerville
A Love Story
Once upon a time there was a man who nobody knew. His father had never known him and his mother had died when he was younger. Because they lived in a house in the middle of nowhere that nobody owned, the man just kept on living there after she died and nobody knew the difference. He could read and write and he ate squirrels and nuts and drank water from the spring. He knew how to do all of these things because his mother taught him when she was still living.
But then the man started getting restless, though he knew not why: he liked his life and didn't need anything else, or so he thought. What he didn't understand was that the restlessness he felt came from the simple and oh so controversial need to multiply.
And so one day he left and came upon the town of Strangerville. Everybody in Strangerville was a stranger. Sometimes they were strangers because they were exconvicts or pedophiles, and sometimes they just didn't like other people. The man fit into Strangerville like a glove and so was welcomed to Strangerville with open arms, or rather, closed doors, but the man didn't know the difference because he wasn't looking for anyone, unless it was female, and he didn't really know anything about that anyway.
One day a poor woman from the hills of Normalacia came to his home and knocked on the door. She had knocked on everyone else's door in the neighborhood but nobody had answered, because they were Strangervillians. But the man answered, because he didn't know about door knocks as a form of communication and thought that there might be a squirrel cracking nuts on his doorjamb. Or something. So he opened the door carefully and with a mallet in his hand, ready to catch his dinner, but it wasn't dinner, it was a woman wanting to clean his house.
She asked to come in and was surprised to hear his voice, high and not unlike the sound of broken harmonicas because it was horribly untrained. But she was used to accents down in the Normalacia valleys, and still wanted to clean his house.The man didn't understand why someone would want to clean his house, but he said okay because he liked the idea for some reason. The woman got to work right away and was surprised at his lack of furniture, toilet paper, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste or toothbrush, refrigerator, trash cans, trash, stove, clothing, but was familiar with the skinned squirrels hanging on hooks in the kitchen and his homemade soaps.
The woman cleaned the floors until they shone and since that was pretty much all there was to do, offered to roast the squirrels in the fireplace for his dinner. The man was surprised again, but shook his head jerkily, yes.When the squirrels were done, the woman packed her cleaning supplies, looked around the empty house and at the man who hadn't really moved from the doorway since she arrived, and sighed. The man didn't stir, so she sighed again, louder this time. The man stared at her curiously.
"Well my work is lookin quite done here," she said, and then sighed again.
"Indeed!" He squeaked.
They stared at each other.
"I'm a be headin' back now," she said, her eyes flickering to the door.
But she didn't move.The man, wide eyed, was jerking his head in small movements to stare for longish intervals on different sectors of the woman's dress and didn't wonder what she was waiting for. He did wonder why she said she was leaving. The man had only ever met his mother before, so by that experience he resolved that the lady who cleaned would stay there till she died.
It was getting dark. The woman wondered if she should just leave, but she needed the money. If she didn't bring back her pay she'd be beaten gravely by her step daddy, Carl, who was surely moonshined to high heavens by now-- she'd spied Uncle Jim and Uncle Willy's big yellow truck parked out in front that morning while heading out to Strangerville.
So she stood there and let out a few more sighs-- long, exaggerated sighs, which she thought garnered no reaction from the man (who, if she had asked him, would have had trouble responding given the reactions that had been garnered) and then finally gave up and sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, welcoming herself to a share of the squirrel dinner she'd prepared for him. After a long while, he came and sat down next to her and she fixed him a plate, and they ate together like famished swine.
It was too dark for the woman to go back now, and so they fell asleep there on the floor, in front of the fire, curled against each other in an S.
Once upon a time there was a man who nobody knew. His father had never known him and his mother had died when he was younger. Because they lived in a house in the middle of nowhere that nobody owned, the man just kept on living there after she died and nobody knew the difference. He could read and write and he ate squirrels and nuts and drank water from the spring. He knew how to do all of these things because his mother taught him when she was still living.
But then the man started getting restless, though he knew not why: he liked his life and didn't need anything else, or so he thought. What he didn't understand was that the restlessness he felt came from the simple and oh so controversial need to multiply.
And so one day he left and came upon the town of Strangerville. Everybody in Strangerville was a stranger. Sometimes they were strangers because they were exconvicts or pedophiles, and sometimes they just didn't like other people. The man fit into Strangerville like a glove and so was welcomed to Strangerville with open arms, or rather, closed doors, but the man didn't know the difference because he wasn't looking for anyone, unless it was female, and he didn't really know anything about that anyway.
One day a poor woman from the hills of Normalacia came to his home and knocked on the door. She had knocked on everyone else's door in the neighborhood but nobody had answered, because they were Strangervillians. But the man answered, because he didn't know about door knocks as a form of communication and thought that there might be a squirrel cracking nuts on his doorjamb. Or something. So he opened the door carefully and with a mallet in his hand, ready to catch his dinner, but it wasn't dinner, it was a woman wanting to clean his house.
She asked to come in and was surprised to hear his voice, high and not unlike the sound of broken harmonicas because it was horribly untrained. But she was used to accents down in the Normalacia valleys, and still wanted to clean his house.The man didn't understand why someone would want to clean his house, but he said okay because he liked the idea for some reason. The woman got to work right away and was surprised at his lack of furniture, toilet paper, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste or toothbrush, refrigerator, trash cans, trash, stove, clothing, but was familiar with the skinned squirrels hanging on hooks in the kitchen and his homemade soaps.
The woman cleaned the floors until they shone and since that was pretty much all there was to do, offered to roast the squirrels in the fireplace for his dinner. The man was surprised again, but shook his head jerkily, yes.When the squirrels were done, the woman packed her cleaning supplies, looked around the empty house and at the man who hadn't really moved from the doorway since she arrived, and sighed. The man didn't stir, so she sighed again, louder this time. The man stared at her curiously.
"Well my work is lookin quite done here," she said, and then sighed again.
"Indeed!" He squeaked.
They stared at each other.
"I'm a be headin' back now," she said, her eyes flickering to the door.
But she didn't move.The man, wide eyed, was jerking his head in small movements to stare for longish intervals on different sectors of the woman's dress and didn't wonder what she was waiting for. He did wonder why she said she was leaving. The man had only ever met his mother before, so by that experience he resolved that the lady who cleaned would stay there till she died.
It was getting dark. The woman wondered if she should just leave, but she needed the money. If she didn't bring back her pay she'd be beaten gravely by her step daddy, Carl, who was surely moonshined to high heavens by now-- she'd spied Uncle Jim and Uncle Willy's big yellow truck parked out in front that morning while heading out to Strangerville.
So she stood there and let out a few more sighs-- long, exaggerated sighs, which she thought garnered no reaction from the man (who, if she had asked him, would have had trouble responding given the reactions that had been garnered) and then finally gave up and sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, welcoming herself to a share of the squirrel dinner she'd prepared for him. After a long while, he came and sat down next to her and she fixed him a plate, and they ate together like famished swine.
It was too dark for the woman to go back now, and so they fell asleep there on the floor, in front of the fire, curled against each other in an S.
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