frivolity

In honor of the New Year, and because I’ve recently rediscovered this project and found it much more engrossing than my Master’s thesis, I am pleased to present to you the fourth chapter of the unfinished Tales from an Impetuous Landscape:

The Grief of Spoons

It is here appropriate to narrate to you the reason why the grief of Spoons is in the air of the Impetuous Landscape.  It is no longer an active grief, for it stems from events far, far back in the Landscape’s history.  Still, the Spoons remember and sigh, sometimes, to think of how it came about.

Two of the oldest families among the servants and subjects of the royalty in the Landscape are the Dishes and the Spoons.  The Dishes have always tended to be of flat disposition, not inclined to adventures of any sort.  They are steadfastly useful, and can be depended upon to be where they are expected when they are expected.  The Spoons are a family more inclined to get into scrapes.  It is rather common for one or another of their numerous family to be missing for weeks at a time, but they mean no harm.  They are more nimble than the Dishes, and, with their broad, round, shining faces, are very well liked.

In the early days of the Landscape, there was a young man in the Spoon clan named Runcible, who was missing more often than all of the other Spoons put together.  He developed quite a reputation for it, and his fame was increased by the fact that, while most of the Spoons combed their hair smoothly down on their foreheads, he wore his in three spikes at the top of his head.  People tended to mistrust him, but, because of his good family, they could not, in good conscience, shun him.

Now it happened that he struck up a friendship with a young lad of the Dish family.  Albert was not a large Dish, nor was he very bright, but he found the glamour and adventure of Runcible’s life to be quite attractive and he wished very much that his limp hair could be persuaded into spikes.  It became quite common to see Albert and Runcible going out for an evening walk or stopping for a drink at a wayside inn.  Their friendship did not keep them from accomplishing their work, and, as Albert showed no signs of going missing, his parents allowed him to walk about with Runcible.  But then it happened.

It was during the Festival of the Talents, when trained animals competed in various skills.  There were high-jumping cows and musical cats; mop-swallowing dogs performed on street corners, and everyone turned out for a week-long holiday.  (The animals have lost much of their skill since those days; more’s the pity.)  That was the year that a cow named Bossie broke all previous records by jumping absolutely over the moon.  Her antagonists accused her of fraud, and there was a drawn-out investigation of the matter with many accusations and denials and everyone in the Landscape loudly expressing his or her own opinion of the case.  In the end, Bossie was cleared of all charges, and her record stands to this day, a memorial to the fact that cows, at least, have not developed according to Darwin’s theories.

Runcible Spoon never had enjoyed the Festival of Talents; he’d never had the patience to train any creature to perform, unless indeed he could be credited with having trained Albert to listen to him.  In any case, he grew impatient with the conflict over the cow, and finally decided to leave the Landscape once and for all.  He told Albert he was going to go live the life of a vagabond in the mountains, and Albert, full of the glamour of the idea and unable to bear the thought of being parted from his hero determined to go with him.  Runcible hemmed and hawed and said it would not be fitting to take Albert from his home, however much he would like to have Albert’s company and aid in the mountains, etc, etc., and the end of it was that Albert absolutely would not let Runcible go without him, which was exactly what Runcible had wanted.

When Bossie had finally been cleared of charges, it was discovered that Runcible Spoon and Albert Dish had run away together.  An expedition was sent in pursuit of them – Albert, being not really skilled in secrets, had left a letter detailing their intended route – and the pair were brought back without any difficulty.

Albert was cleared of all blame in the matter.  He had been very young and very impressionable.  He grew up to be a useful and pleasant citizen of the Landscape, though he and his descendents after him have ever been known in common parlance as “Dessert Plates.”

However, Runcible, apart from whose insidious influence Albert would never have run away, was banished from the Impetuous Landscape and sent to live in the Land Where the Bong Tree Grows.  There he quickly gained a position of prestige – you will recall that he was present at the wedding-supper of the Owl and the Pussycat – and there he became the patriarch of a large and industrious family.

While Runcible was enjoying himself in the Land Where the Bong Tree Grows, his relatives in the Landscape were deeply wounded by his desertion and banishment.  They felt that their once-spotless reputation had been tarnished by such an association.  Ah, yes, though they have prospered and been trusted throughout all of their generations, it is still customary for their mouths to droop a bit at the corners, and still the Landscape has their old grief in its air.

©2012 Stacy Nott

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