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1
A cat’s eye marble, crystal clear with a neatly centered yellow ribbon twist, rolled across the rug and came to a stop next to a short heavy club which leaned against the wall in the corner of the room nearest the fireplace.
“Excuse me, club, are you tall enough to see the clock? I’d like to know what time it is,” said the marble in her small round voice.
“Cudgel,” replied the club shortly.
“Pardon?” said the polite little marble.
“I’m not a club. I’m a cudgel! I smash, bash, and break! I crush! Oh, how I love to shatter things! Shatter, I tell you, shatter!” said the short heavy club with much emotion.
The cat’s eye marble rolled quietly away.
2
A proud boulder, an agate shooter nicely nicked with many a battle scar on its cloudy blue, white and moss green surface, rolled across the concrete floor of the garage, climbed the curled edge of the corroded cookie sheet under the neglected Pontiac, and came to a rest on a lovely thick slick of amber oil. The aged marble blissfully sighed.
3
The pure clear crystal marble, proud and haughty, allowed herself to be gilded by feathery brushes and lifted to assume the position of honor at the apex of the centerpiece on the Royal Table in the Hall of Kings there in the Queen‘s Castle. Jack came by at 10 to make certain all was in readiness. All was.
T
limb R limb
l i m b E l i m b
l…i…m…b…E…l…i…m…b
python aroused..T.. by yapping dog
limblet.R………….
coward U………….
N
………………………..K angry chihuahua
To Fulfill an Obsession
Nehemiah Plaster was nothing if not determined. From earliest childhood on he pored over maps of France, haunted the French Embassy (which was nothing if not difficult for a small boy who lived in Golden, Colorado), and practiced daily in the mirror his sneer of superiority. What did he study in college? Nothing if not Proust and Sartre and Piaf and Julia Child. His perfectly spoken French became so snotty that he was able to make the snottiest maitre d’ in the snottiest French restaurant weep in humiliation. When Nehemiah renounced his American citizenship and applied for French of the same, it was nothing if not no surprise. Random strollers witnessed tears of joy coursing down his cheeks on the day he finally stood in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, flung his arms wide, and cried, “I am Plaster of Paris!”
I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT MORE THINGS THAN I KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT SOME THINGS
“Now that’s what I call an effective cross-examination.”
The plank considered itself lucky to be the topmost plank on the pile of planks in the hold of the ship. Its constant yapping about its mountain origins and its trip through the sawmill and the long bumpy ride on the wagon and being swung aboard by some kind of pulley contraption was, to put it mildly, an annoyance to the rest of the lumber. The plank didn’t notice. Truth, it was excited to be on a great adventure. It speculated aloud and on and on about where they were going and what would become of them.
“I can see myself as a part of a wall, that I certainly can,” it said. “Maybe in a parlor, where there would be a piano and music. That would be good. But of course I don’t want to limit myself or be too uppity. I wouldn’t mind at all being part of a sidewalk in, say, Nome, Alaska. Perhaps just outside the swinging doors of a saloon. A lot of interesting action there, I can bet. Hey, even the floor of a cabin would be all right with me. I wouldn’t like rugs on me, though. That would never do.”
The plank rattled on. It was a wonder to hear. The other planks were appalled, and yet at the same time amazed, at the plank’s endless imaginings. And so it was that a kind of bliss settled over the lumber pile when a square shaft of light opened above, two men came down, the plank was carried up and away, and the square shaft of light was snuffed.
The plank was speechless with fear when it found itself shoved out over the side of the ship and partially hanging over the sea. It heard muttering and many drawn out pronunciations of the letter ‘r’. Boots walked along its length. A splash followed and more and louder pronunciations of the letter ‘r’. The plank was roughly tossed into the sea. It wondered if it would wash up on a desert island and make part of a shelter. It certainly hoped so.
#
The Hearty Appetite
The hearty appetite roamed the forest.
“I am a bit peckish, don’t you know,” it said only because it liked to hear the sound of its own voice and not because there was anybody else at all around to respond.
The appetite downed a few boulders, a small stand of pines, and an esker skirting a lovely meadow. It paused a moment and produced a most satisfying, earthshaking, long full rumble of a belch.
“Ah, that’s the ticket,” said the hearty appetite.
It roamed to a nearby stream and drank it.
“Ah, perfection,” it sighed before thundering another belch.
As it moved to higher ground, it sang in falsetto ‘I Feel Pretty’ from West Side Story. Truth to be told, the hearty appetite experienced happiness complete singing and dancing its way across the high Sierra landscape.
Moral: Would that we all had it thus.
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Doc's Lunacy
5 of 5 stars to The Great Train Robbery by Michael Crichton goodreads.com/review/show/55…
