the patterns of history

one time i had a dream that the easter bunny decided to start time travelling again.

maybe it was because they changed the clocks forward or maybe because he wanted to get things done before the busy season i don't know. he did say that he had recently gone to the future, and that it was very confusing. to get a better perspective on what he saw there, he said, he needed to go further back to see how the situations originated in the 13th century. i asked him if messing with the past would screw up the future. he told me that he never changes the past he simply observes it. if the events taking place make themselves especially familiar with him, they occasionally invite him to participate. however, he makes a concerted effort to maintain the established patterns and make no deviation from the appointed paths.

bubbles, my pet-fish, jumped into the conversation and interrupted the easter bunny. bubbles expounded his opinion that history is a material process unfolding in a dialectical manner through economical arrangements and class struggle. the easter bunny didn't mind being interrupted by bubbles, but he told him his attitudes were somewhat dated, and that they seemed vulgar. bubbles called the easter bunny a revisionist. not only that, he threatened to report the easter bunny to the seventh international, and to remove his party membership card.

this got the easter bunny worked up. he denounced bubbles emphatically, and launched into a great oration recalling the early days of class struggle, and how he alone stood against the screws in proclaiming the distribution of eggs to the masses! even while the proletariat was developing its proto-revolutionary status, the easter bunny had been hippity hopping!

comrades, cried the easter bunny, have you forgot the days on the barricades? where was this pet-fish when they gunned down our glorious patriots at the post office? where was his loyalty to our cause when these heroes spilt their blood in sacrifice for our homeland? was he marching down o'connell street or drilling on stephen's green? did he drop a hurley bat for for a rifle?

when they were writing limericks about free milk for the working men, where was our friendly fish? near? no! he never saw lough neagh nor the liffey on those mornings! had he gone abroad to fight in the service of our allies the austrian archdukes? or was he bellicose for the belgian right to their own chocolates? no!

the easter bunny then began to weep for all of his lost comrades. i asked him if it was very expensive to post a letter in the future, and he said that it wasn't. 

experimental mustards

one time i had a dream that, through experimentation, i invented several new types of mustard recipes, based on spices grown in the thousand islands of canada -and who doesn't love canada?

my pet-fish, bubbles, said that we live in an age of novelty. 

the unpleasant troll returns

one time i had a dream that my uncle cuthred discovered that the unpleasant troll had returned. it was around christmas time. the troll had seemingly disappeared into the woodwork, or better yet, uncle cuthred thought, moved on to another location.

however, that morning, when he was on his way to breakfast, uncle cuthred found the unwelcome troll sitting in the conservatory poking the hall boy with the his middle fingers. the hall boy did not particularly enjoy this, but was unable to make the troll stop.

uncle cuthred told the troll that he had hoped it had left permanently. the troll smiled and said that he had never left. he had been there for months, spending most of his days in the spear closet and wild nights in the kitchen. my pet fish bubbles said that he thinks that the troll is actually a kobold because he enjoyed the kitchens so much, but uncle cuthred always maintained, in his writings anyway, that it was a troll.

now, i may not be very expert on trolls and kobolds, or kitchens and closets, but i do know about mustard. uncle cuthred was very clear on how he rid himself of the troll (or kobold, s'il vous plaît, monsieur le poisson) and if anyone is willing to listen, with some modicum of patience, i shall explain his method. some might prefer, i suspect, that i engage in lengthy recollections of the troll's genealogy, or that, in the interest of verisimilitude, i tell you the measurements of it's foot size. there will no doubt be howls of complaint that i make no effort to explain how the troll came to this part of the world, thereby providing not only a minor troll saga but also a description of local geography in nauseating detail. and alas, i shall disappoint many that i do not provide the conversation of the troll in his original lingua dii inferi -or at least provide a table with the principal declensions of that tongue.

if there is one thing that all trolls universally despise, it is sore throats and muscle aches. it seems this troll who was haunting uncle cuthred had, on this particular morning, both of these conditions. apparently, the day before the trolls had held their annual "day of darkness" tug o'war contest. this troll had worn out his voice screaming and pulling in the competition. uncle cuthred, although in every respect a gentleman, was not going to let a situation where he had an advantage pass him by without making some effort to rid his household of this abominable creature.

uncle cuthred would have never considered himself a dickerer, but --because of his travels in the levant -- he had learned that the finer arts of the bargain are merely questions of elevated etiquette. accordingly, he knew how to act with both diplomacy and effectiveness, or rather he had learned that diplomacy is effectiveness (especially in the levant -- a lesson which bears some repeating on occasions where the conversation turns towards politicks and horse raising). so, i am sure that you will excuse him when he made the following proposal to the troll.

my uncle cuthred suggested that the troll might benefit from a poultice of mustard that would salve his sore limbs. he had an old family recipe for a very effective cataplasm. anyway, he offered to make a batch and give it to the troll, and also a dose of his sore throat remedy (made with mustard, honey, lemon juice, salt, and hot water), if the troll would be willing to end its in annoying haunting.

the troll agreed to the deal. they drank a glass of sore throat remedy to seal it and toast it. uncle cuthred personally went down to the kitchens and made up the plaster for the troll, who found it was, as uncle cuthred said, very effective.

i wish i could say this was the last the troll was seen or heard from, but it is not. he'd appear now and again. he was generally well behaved after this, but on occasions he'd fall back to his old habits. someone would have to remind him that he had promised not act annoyingly. he'd agree, compose himself, and apologize. typically he could be expected to act civilized after these little outbursts. it rarely happened around company which was a blessing, i suppose.

some people ask if my mustard is an old family recipe handed down for generations. uncle cuthred did leave his recipe for mustard in his journals. i've made it a few times, experimentally, but i don't think it is the most impressive -unless you have a troll infestation or a sore ankle.

  

rachel plorantis

one time i had a dream that i heard rachel weeping over her children.

mind over matter

one time i had a dream that it was all a question of mind over matter.

bubbles told me to shut up and get back to practicing my piano lessons.

lacrimae rerum

one time i had a dream that i saw how even beauty fades - how nothing endures. 

experiments in dihydrogen monoxide

one time i had a dream that bubbles and i were being pursued by a creature that thrived on dihydrogen monoxide.

bubbles and i decided to do an experiment with this chemical. somehow, we managed to awaken an unpleasant manifestation. we were running for our lives when we ran into a master chef. she told us that she was quite experienced with these sort of beasties. she took out her knives set and turned to face the monster.

she turned the creature into a satisfying lunch.