Ratty, Mole And The Cunning Fox

Once upon a time, where a gentle river flowed, many animals lived along its banks. They built a village, raised their young, and all lived in peace and harmony because the river gave a good life for everyone.

Ratty, a river rat, lived near a bend in the river where a willow tree grew. His home, built in the bank of the river, had paned windows to look out and watch the river traffic go by. Below his home, at river's edge, there was a small dock that sheltered his rowboat for excursions on the river, and to visit friends.

 Ratty was very happy in his home. Comfortable with his collection of books, he enjoyed sitting in a willow chair on his dock on warm days to read and wave at friends passing by. Everyone in his neighborhood knew him, often being invited for watercress sandwiches and tea on his cozy dock. Ratty liked nothing better than to chat with a passerby.

In the winter, Ratty would cook stews and soups by the fireplace as he watched the river rise to rush by his windows leaving mud on the sills that smelled like plum pudding. But in the winter time, everyone depended on their larder, only venturing out when it was safe to do. Ratty, even with his large collection of books, became lonely at winter's time.

His neighbors knew Ratty to be a good and jolly fellow. He would watch their children now and then, and always dependable to borrow a bit of butter or grain for the table. Often, his neighbors would say, "Ratty, have you found a love yet, another river rat to have a family?"

"No." Would be his answer, "All the single river rats I've met weren't interested in me or taken." Ratty would look to the horizon then before he said, "I suppose my destiny is a lonely life." That was his answer when asked the question, which came much too often.

Ratty, in truth, wasn't interested in the other river rats he met. He never felt the spark everyone talked about when you meet and fall in love. But Ratty knew, deep inside, it would happen one day.

One spring, when the river's creatures were busy restocking from the long winter, Ratty went to the Menders shop. He needed a pair of britches he tore repaired. And "odds and ends," as he called it, for Ratty loved to shop and meet people.

After the Menders, Ratty strolled about the village in search of anything of interest, always ending at the book seller before he left for home. In the Mercantile while searching for jute twine, he spotted a very handsome creature. An animal, who had just pushed his spectacles up to read some fine print on a blue bottle stood not far away. Ratty knew what it was the animal picked up and felt compelled to intrude.

"Excuse me sir, but I can recommend that oil of lavender you have in your hand. Very good brand." Ratty said.

"Oh good. It's hard for me to read this tiny print. Thank you. My name is Mole. Howard Jay Arthur Mole to be exact." Mole extended his hand toward Ratty which he took with a smile.

"Ratty is mine. That's what everyone calls me, and you? Is it Mole you go by?"

"Yes, I think only my mother called me my full name."

"Mine too, it's settled then Mole. What a cheery day it is. Would you like to have watercress sandwiches with a pot of tea with me?

Mole had to think a bit, he never encountered such a creature as Ratty, most didn't bother with him at all. "Yes. Yes, I think I would. I left home for errands, and so seldom see the light of day in my hole, it's been very enjoyable.

"Well then, Mole it's settled, I have my boat tied in the harbor. Do you mind if we stop by the book merchant?"

"No, not at all. He carries some large print books for me. I'm very grateful to him."

"Funny we didn't run into each other before. Don't you think?"

Mole adjusted his glasses, "Yes I think so but I'm so nearsighted you know."

Ratty placed his hand on Mole's shoulder, "Let's go shall we?" And off they went.

Ratty lead Mole through the streets with his hand on his shoulder or arm to guide him to the right or left for which Mole was very grateful. Poor Mole, on his own he had to apologize now and then for the creatures he bumped into whenever he went to town. And for being a shy creature it became wearisome, so he mostly stayed home in a hole in the ground where little light came.

The two chatted all the way and at the book merchant, Mole picked up a novel the merchant had ordered for him. Ratty grabbed the latest mystery that he couldn't wait to read and off they went to Rat's boat.

"Oh what a wonderful boat," Mole said as Ratty helped him in. "I've never been in a boat much less on the river. And I love to sit by the river to read and smell the outdoors."

"Well then," said Ratty, "I think you might like my little house on the river. We'll sit on the dock to have our lunch and a good read."

"Splendid. Absolutely splendid." Mole clapped his hands when Ratty launched the boat and floated to midstream. All the way back Ratty told Mole about life on the river, and how exciting it all was, and who lived where, and what fun they would have for Ratty felt the spark.

To be continued...



    

The Ogre Under The Bridge.

Once there was a great Orge that lived under a bridge. He was an ugly Ogre who had a heart of gold. The town's people knew the Ogre to be very helpful when their wagons became stuck in the mud after a storm. The Ogre would come out from under the bridge and push them to dryer land. And the Ogre would divert water when it threatened to wash the town away in the great storms that came to the mountains where the village lay.

He was very ugly with a disfigured face full of warts and blemishes and often would scare a stranger at first who didn't know the Ogre.  But once they got to know him, his disfigurement wasn't noticeable because of his kind and gentle heart. People would often say once they knew the Ogre, "What a beautiful creature your town has. He helped me find my dog, or he fixed our cart and never asked for gold." The town's people were happy with their Ogre and repaired his clothes if torn or brought him hearty soups when it was cold.

One day developers came to the town for they heard stories of the game in their forested mountains and the good fishing in the streams. The mountain tops had plenty of snow to draw skiers and the town itself was pretty and quaint with flowers in window boxes and cobbled streets that wandered here and there in the village.

The developers told the elders of the town about the wealth everyone could obtain if they encouraged tourists to come. Inns and restaurants would be built to house the tourists and bring jobs to the town's folk making everyone very rich. But there was one stipulation. The town would have to get rid of the Ogre under the bridge for the developers were sure he would scare the tourists away.

The elders told the developers that he was a wonderful Ogre who helped many of the people in town and even saved their village from floods. But the developers insisted the Ogre would scare the children of the tourists because he was so ugly and no one would come to their village.

The elders pleaded with the developers to give the Ogre a chance and said, "Once you get to know him, he isn't ugly at all but quite handsome because of his gentle heart."

The developers were insistent that the Ogre must go. So the elders thought about what to do. If they lost their beloved Ogre who would save their village in a flood? And the developers always had an answer. "You will make so much money that flood channels would be built." The answers were always that there would be plenty of money to fix anything so the Ogre would no longer be needed.

The people in the town began to turn their hearts away from the Ogre. They thought more and more of the riches tourists would bring to them. They would live easy and plush lives in fancy new homes and grow fat on all the wealth they would make. The Ogre would have to go.

So one day the elders went to the bridge to talk to the Ogre. They told him they appreciated all he did for them, but the developers thought he was too ugly to draw tourists and he would have to leave. The village was going to change for the better, but only if he left.

The Ogre looked around at all the friends he had made, he looked at each and every one that he helped, and then cried. "I thought you were all my friends. But you're not after all are you. You want me to leave because you think I'm ugly. Well then, I will leave."

So the Ogre packed his few belongings and walked into the forest, to the deepest, darkest part where no human had ever been or ever would go. And there, deep in the woods near a small lake, stood a lonely cottage. As the Ogre approached he saw a beautiful wood nymph trying to attach a shutter to her house. She tried and tried but couldn't get the shutter to stay in place.

The Ogre crept close and afraid to scare her, he cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me, but can I help you? I am very good at fixing things."

The wood nymph turned and smiled, "Oh an Ogre, and a handsome Ogre at that. Yes, can you please help me? In return, I'll fix you a delicious supper.

In quick order the Ogre had the shutter repaired and attached in its rightful place. Then the two went inside the cozy cottage. A fire in the hearth waited for them and on the stove the most delicious smell of wild mushroom soup simmered in a pot.

"No one has ever invited me in their home before," the Ogre said.

"And why not? You are wonderful. I wouldn't known what to do if you didn't help me."

The Ogre smiled and blushed, "My name is Borg."

"Glad to meet you, Borg. My name is Titinia." She pointed to the best chair she had for him to sit by the fire and warm himself.

From then on, Titinia and Borg lived happily in their cottage by the lake deep in the forest. As time grew on, the forest creatures heard of the couple. If a deer had a wound or a bear a thorn, the two would give aid. Because of their kindness all the woodland kept watch to make sure the couple were safe and well hidden.

The village grew and prospered, just as the developers said. More and more people came, and the town grew to a city with many more people trying to get rich. The old town folk left their cozy homes and cobbled streets. They moved into new apartments with all the luxury they could know. But no one helped them without wanting money. No one visited anymore because everyone wanted to make more money. The cobbled streets were torn up and cement poured. The old bridge torn down, the babbling brook now a flood channel of solid rock so that the water rushed to the sea.

And as more people came and wanted more money, people's homes were robbed and everyone became afraid to leave after dark. They were afraid to talk to strangers lest they be robbed of their precious money. The city belched smog that killed the trees around it. The stream became polluted with trash and waste, an ugly scar that ran through an ugly city where no birds or wildlife dare to venture. And the city became known far and wide for how ugly it looked and how greedy the people that lived there were.

And as time passed, the city became more and more decrepit until no one came to spend money and the people that lived there turned on each other fighting for anything they could steal or rob from someone else. But in the forest, deep in the woods, a beautiful wood nymph and a handsome Ogre lived happily ever after.

The Sea Witch's Revenge

Once upon a time a sea witch swam along the coast searching for a home until one day she spotted just the right place. A beautiful little cove quiet and serene. Just the perfect spot for a sea witch's home, she thought.

She made a home in the little bay, and dressed it beautifully with shells and corals. The witch planted seaweeds all around her home to keep her place safe from storms and to give the fish of the sea a safe place to raise their young.  It was a very happy place to be and the witch lived there many years without being disturbed.

But one day, as her hair flowed in the waters causing waves to form and glide to the beach in perfect curls, some survey men appeared on the bluffs overlooking the bay. Not long after that great homes began to appear on the bluff. The sea witch was wary of humans and all the trouble they brought with them and became concerned.

People began to come to the beach to surf in her curls. At first she worried what might happen, that they might throw trash  or rip out her garden of seaweeds. But they only seemed to delight in riding the waves made by her hair.

So, on a beautiful summer day as humans laid on the beach and surfed the waves, she transformed into a mermaid and rode the waves with the humans to see why they like to surf so much. The people delighted in surfing with the mermaid, for they thought she was just another surfer out to enjoy the day, her finned tail looking more like a surfboard. And the witch thought humans might be okay after all. But she was wrong, not all humans are okay.

The homes on the bluff brought families of the rich and powerful and they began to put up fences to keep anyone that didn't live there away. But the people missed surfing the perfect waves and tried to get to the beach below the cliffs. Then the homeowners sent guards to push them back and the children of the rich vandalized their cars to keep others away. Now only the homeowners on the bluff were allowed to lay on the beach and surf the perfect waves that the hair of the sea witch made.

One summer day the sea witch transformed herself once again and rode the waves with the homeowners children. But instead of welcoming the sea witch, they yelled at her and called her names. The homeowner's sons started to pelt her with stones and spit on her until she swam under the waves and went back to her home. There, in the safety of her house under the water, the sea witch brooded and worried about these selfish people. "Who do they think they are?" she asked herself.

She called on her friends the sharks to help her and they swam in circles around the surfers to scare them away but the boys only went home to tell their parents that sharks were now bothering them. The homeowners then called on sharpshooters and harpooners to kill the sharks and many sharks died until the sea witch made a plan.

"Who do they think they are?" She asked herself again, "They throw stones and spit at me and kill my friends the sharks. I will get revenge on these horrible humans."

One summer day with the sun and sea beckoning the cliff dwellers to come to the beach, the sea witch made the best waves anyone had ever seen. Each wave, curled into a perfect tube along the glass surface of the water. The boys called all their friends and told their families to come and watch them surf. There was loud music and fires burning on the beach, people brought food and drink to watch their children ride the waves.

When the sea witch saw that all the cliff dwellers were at the beach and their children playing in the water she gathered all her powers and brushed her hair into a great bundle that formed the largest wave anyone had ever seen. It roared toward the surfers and the beach. Some of the surfers swam out to catch the monster wave while others swam to the beach. But it didn't matter.

The great wave swept them all up in its waters. It pushed surfers and boards onto the sand of the bay and smashed with fury against the cliffs. Then it swept everyone away that was in the water and on the beach to where a great many sharks waited. The sharks pulled them under the water and tore off their arms and legs until the sharks ate the last human.

But the sea witch was not through. She gathered her hair again into a great bundle and with the help of gale winds made an even bigger wave. This wave rose high, so high that when it smashed against the cliff the whole hillside shuddered and collapsed into the sea. The homes of the wealthy lay scattered on the waters where the sea witch pulled all the debris far out into the ocean.

Now there was only a beach left, the cliff just a gentle rise from the ocean's water with no trace that a human ever lived there. The waves lapped at the beach instead of forming beautiful curls to ride, and people came no more to bother the sea witch or her friends the sharks. 

What's For Dinner?

Deep in the woods lived a very old witch. Her companions were a warty toad and a very skinny cat with silky black fur and green eyes. She had no friends because any time someone came to visit they were never heard from again. But one day someone did come.

A pretty little girl with red curly hair and freckles the color of cinnamon that sprinkled her face was lost in the woods. She had followed a creek looking for watercress that lead her near the witch's cottage. Once the little girl spotted the cottage with smoke coming from the chimney, she ran to the front door to knock and ask if someone could help her find the way back home.

Just as she was about to knock, the smell of roast potatoes filled the air and made her hungry. She put down the basket in her hand that held the watercress she collected. She then straightened her dress and buffed her shoes to wipe off any smudge before she knocked at the door.

There was no answer and she thought that she might knock harder when she noticed the door had an iron knocker in the shape of a pig's snout. So the little girl raised the knocker and let it go to announce that someone was there. Soon the witch came to the door and opened it.

The old witch looked down at the girl and then to the right and left to see if anyone was with her. "Dear, dear," said the old witch, "Have you lost your way?"

"Yes," said the little girl. "I was picking watercress for my mother, but now I can't find my way back home."

The witch chuckled with a crackly voice and said, "Oh my. How terrible!"and rubbed her twisted hands together. "Won't you come in dearie, I have some potatoes in the oven and they're just about done."

The little girl smelled a whiff of the potatoes and her stomach growled with hunger. "All right, I'm so hungry."

"Why don't you have something to eat then before I show you the way back?" Asked the witch.

"All right," and then she stepped over the threshold into the witches cottage.

The little girl looked at the simple cottage with a table and chairs near the stove where the smell of potatoes came from. On the floor, near one of the chairs at the table sat a cat and next to the cat was a toad.

"Oh," said the girl, "Are they your pets?"

"Pets? Oh, no they are more than that. They are my friends for I'm all alone here in the woods."

The witch walked over to the two and pointed at the cat. "This is Matelda." She then pointed to the toad, "And this is Quirk. He's a toad you know."

"Yes said the girl, he looks very much like a toad." She then walked over to them both and extended her hand. "How do you do? My name is Thimble."

Matelda placed her paw in Thimble's hand and meowed. Then Quirk hopped next to her and put his tiny webbed hand in hers and croaked.

"Oh, they are delightful! Are they having potatoes too?"

"Yes dear they are. But you know Quirk has been eying that delicious watercress in your basket, do you think he could have some?"

The little girl giggled before she took from the basket a handful of watercress and placed it in the hand of the toad.

"Oh no," said the witch, "We have to sit down first."

So the witch arranged the chairs around the table while the cat and toad retrieved platters, forks and knives and put them by the plates. Then the witch went to the oven and pulled out a pan of potatoes. She placed the hot spuds next to the watercress the girl had for the toad.

"Sit down dearie," said the witch and pointed to where Thimble was to sit. Once the little girl sat down, the cat and toad took their seats and the witch hers.

"Now lets make a wish before we eat," said the witch. "Who ever eats the potato with a worm has their wish come true."

The little girl was aghast at the thought of eating a worm even though she wanted her wish to come true, and that was to get home to her mother. She wondered if she would get a potato with a worm.

The witch passed the plate of potatoes to Thimble and said to her, "Go on, dearie you pick first."

Thimble looked carefully at the potatoes and saw one that was absolutely perfect with no worm holes at all and took that. Then the witch handed her a plate of watercress to go with the potato and Thimble took some watercress too. After Thimble was served the plates were passed around and each took a potato with some watercress.

When everyone had eaten, Thimble wondered who would have their wish granted because she knew that she didn't eat a worm and waited to see what would happen.

When the last potato and piece of watercress was eaten, the witch reached in a pocket of her dress, took out a wand and waved it in the air.

Thimble felt a tingling feeling all through her body as she transformed into a bird with bright red feathers. She looked at her hands that were now wings and her feet that were now bird legs and chirped.

"I know dear, but now you'll eat worms when they are offered to you next time." The witch then placed Thimble in a bird cage for her to sing for the toad and cat.

Tired Of The Pity Pot

I'm going to change what I'm doing. It's time for me to pick myself up, dust myself off and get back in the ring.

IT'S FAIRY TALE TIME

The Help

Rich people, really rich people have good help. Unless of course the lord and lady are complete assholes, and even then, with enough money, you can still hire good help. I suppose Donald Trump fits the picture, money plus assholeness will still buy what you want.

Not so much for the rest of us. I've given up on finding someone without  personal problems because--you get what you pay for. And we can't afford a registered nurse around the clock and an orderly for the daily care. We don't have room in a two bed-one bath, WW2 cottage. It's nice and cozy for three people but they would have to get along. And there is the problem.

We have a nice place, something we made it into with organic gardens of vegetable and ornamental. There are five chickens in a hen house for fresh eggs and fertilizer. A patio with a running fountain  under a grape arbor and comfortable patio furniture nearby. A place to relax, have a drink and chat with friends while entertaining outside. We like it. Wally still enjoys going outside when he can.

You would think someone living in their car, or in a flop house, or someone's living room would appreciate a room with a view. But what happens is they want more. They always want more. A taste, even the taste of middle class is delicious compared to what they had before. And that's the case for all the help we've hired.

They are always very appreciative at first but as time goes by it isn't enough. There is free room and board, and a thousand a month. They can have friends over, within reason, because more than one, wanted either a lot of friends over any time and another that wants a girlfriend. I have had to put up with a crazy fucking German Shepherd and its Mistress that doted  on the dog constantly. And, get this, one was pimping out his girlfriend for blowjobs in the backyard. Strangers were coming over for fucking blowjobs by his bitch. I've had it all. Drunks, addicts and people with attitude problems, and I mean real attitude problems, the kind that are debilitating.

And all along there is Wally and me, trying to survive for a while longer, floating in the river, going with the flow, watching the day past. There is a humiliating factor in getting old. When you have to depend on others for survival, for things that not too long ago were not a problem, like the twist cap on a bottle of beer.

More later.

Queer Nation, Is Anyone Out There?

It's been a while since I've hit the keys. Wally, I'm realizing, is on a steady decline. I've had to hire two other people to help. One gay and someone I know--friend of a friend thing, helps me on Beto's day off. The other is to help Beto when I ride my bike on Wednesday. He likes women a lot, Beto, being a healthy hetro. He has a recently divorced woman with a wonderful brilliant child to help him. The kid is a delight, already the smartest in the family.

But it is a living hell here. Not in the since you might think.

You see, when Wally and I met and during the course of our romance, we never thought, like most couples in love, that some tragedy would enter our lives.

The problem with dementia is that, unlike cancer, there is no hope. It is always--ALWAYS--fatal.

And in the most twisted, cruel way imaginable. The patient isn't really aware of it, only that everyone else is acting strange. And you, the one that loves them has to deal with that.

At the gym one day, years ago, I saw a guy with a T that said, "Adapt Or Die." No truer words are there in all of knowledge. And, I try to live by them. "One Day At A Time." That's a good one to keep you from going fucking looney.

So I have adapted and I try, with good success, to keep it one day at a time.

I gotta go, and I'm not going to save this for later and let it pile up like my e-mail is anymore. More later on having help, help you, that's a whole other dimension.