Dear Reader: Loyal Fan: Patronizing Public: Neil, Lauren, Vic, Laura, and the visitor from South Africa:
We are nearing the end of the romance. Someone will die. That is all I can tell you now. It made me scream when I reread it. I hope it isn't me. You will recall that this chapter is a court scene.
"In Which, We Sense That the End is Near, and Begin Stockpiling Rotten Tomatoes"
“YOUR HONOR!” boomed the voice of the minister. “WILL YOUR EMINENCE PLEASE… OH WAIT, I AM MY OWN EMINENCE—” There were several bangs with a gavel, which could scarcely be heard over the cries of mob. The Indian who had made his opinion of the minister so clear earlier now stood and used his tomahawk on a passing scull. “SILENCE, OR WE KNOCK DOWN AND SAY HATEFUL THINGS!” In the lull that followed, Rip stood forward. “Your Honor,” he began. “This is a difficult thing for me.” He swallowed, and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “You see, Sir, all my life, I’ve been a drifter. Drifting here…. Drifting there…. Drifting, drifting....” His voice seemed momentarily to give way. “And now this woman, this one right here, is accused of running a smuggling operation out of the folds of her voluminous skirt. This young man beside her— this man, who claims his name is ‘Falling Rock’, is accused of being with her at the time of her arrest. Your Honor,” He concluded. “This leads us to suspect his motives.” “WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF, YOUNG MAN?” The minister intoned. The Seminarian cleared his throat. “SILENCE!” the gavel banged vehemently on many surrounding objects. “WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS, A CIRCUS? WELL IT ISN’T. THIS IS A COURT. WHEN I ASK YOU A QUESTION, ANSWER! NOW, SPEAK UP!” He was wearing glasses and a wig. The banana hovered from his right ear. “THIS BANANA MAY RESEMBLE A LARGE, YELLOW HEARING AID, BUT IT ISN’T.” The Seminarian cleared his throat again. “Well, your hon—” Vehement bangs and the sound of shattering glass interrupted him. “BE QUIET, YOUNG MAN OR I’LL HOLD YOU IN CONTEMPT OF COURT!” “HA!” Shouted the Chief Indian. “We Do Contempt Court, and Contempt You Most of All!” The minister smiled pleasantly. “WELL, YES. I CAN SEE HOW YOU WOULD FEEL THAT WAY, MR… MR…” “Crossing Cow.” “MR. … UH – MR. COW. PLEASE MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME HERE. IF THERE’S ANYTHING WE CAN GET YOU—A GLASS OF WATER, SOME… CLOVER-PERHAPS....” He trailed off into silence, under the withering gaze of the Indian. “Your Honor, may I speak now?” asked Falling Rock, feebly. “MY EARS ARE OPEN, YOUNG MAN: EXCEPT THAT I HAVE A BANANA IN ONE OF THEM.” “I would like to add that this woman should also be charged with wearing man’s clothing.” A gasp went up from the audience, and Nobilette jerked towards him in disbelief. Snort stepped forward: “Pahdon me, Your Honor, but while it is true that this woman is wearin' man’s clothing, it’s obvious to everyone here, as well as to this Seminarian—who told me so himself, that it does not conceal her womanly figure!” Another gasp from the audience. Nobilette spluttered with rage. “This is an outrage! This man is working for the prosecuting attorney! I want my own lawyer!” “WELL, HOW ABOUT IT, FOLKS?” The minister intoned cheerfully. “IS ANYONE HERE WILLING TO DEFEND THIS WOMAN AGAINST THESE CALUMNIOUS CHARGES? HER FRAUDULENT PERSECUTORS? THE CORRUPTION OF THIS COURT?” Silence. “WHAT WAS THAT? DID SOMEONE SPEAK? NO? THEN IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE BANANA. BE QUIET, BANANA. NOW YOUNG WOMAN, YOUR OPTIONS ARE BEFORE YOU. YOU HAVE THE CHOICE OF ONE THING OR ANOTHER, AND THE OTHER IS THE COUNSEL OF THIS BANANA—WHO DOES, MAY I ADD, HAVE THE EAR OF THIS COURT. HAHAHAH! GET IT? THE EAR OF THIS COURT? HA HAH!” His laughter died on his lips under the glare of Crossing Cow, who was, as they say so well, “not amused.” Nobilette banged her head on a neighboring tomahawk in frustration. “Excuse me, Your Honor, but it seems to me very clear that this woman should be imprisoned,” said her fellow accused. “The evidence is upon her.” Nobilette gazed at him in perplexed astonishment and pain ”Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I’m merely trying to force people to the logical conclusion of their beliefs.” He muttered. Nobilette looked dazed. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the cause of truth,” the Seminarian continued. “Look: this time, it happens to be you. Last time, it happened to be somebody else. I am willing to sacrifice everyone I know for truth.” “It must be lonely for you at times,” Nobilette observed. “It is,” said the Seminarian, and turned his face to the West, where the setting sun was spilling over the scene. “But it will all be worth it someday.” “When?” asked Nobilette. “When…?” The Seminarian turned back towards her. He studied her sincere face, glowing in the light of the Western hemisphere. He thought of crocodiles. He thought of the joyful plash of displaced, dirty water. Her little bows were like salmon in the river of her hair. Her eyes were brimming with light, like a pond in the wood – like a pond in the wood where the wild deer sup....
And the Sambhur belled; and the sambhur belled.... But there were no sambhur. And he would never scout alone. A vicious desire to educate her possessed him and he and spat out cruelly: “When the little hand reaches seven.” By which time it might be observed that Nobilette had fallen violently in love with him. |
To know the author of such a tome...and a three-legged dog, no less, is beyond the limits of my wildest imagination and probably my ability to follow as well. WILL Nobilette...but you will have to anticipate my question with suspense until I can formulate one.