Childhood Tales
March has
put me in a cheery mood to emulate the writing style of some iconic writers, so
for this Tale of Quasi-Innocence, be duly notified that dialect, phrases, and bits
of dialogue will be liberally smouched from Twain’s delightful account of the adventures
of Huckleberry Finn. Supposin’ this takes care of giving credit where credit is
due.
First off,
be assured that this adventure really occurred. Secondly, let me make it clear
that this account serves no purpose – nuther to rashnalize an action or to plea
for understanding. It is simply to remind adults of youth’s sometimes queer
enterprises. Thirdly, guaranteed that you’ll find no motive in this narrative;
none of a moral – or if there is one, you may reckon it yourself - and very
little plot.
As you see,
Third Brother and me have been sworn friends since the beginning, unlike the
changing loyalties of the other brothers who in various pairings would either
be pals or embattled enemies. We even managed to get the chicken pox together so
that even in quarantine, we could prank our common Mortal Enemy, our spoiled Youngest
Brother Number Six.
That’s how
we ended up being partners in raising several pairs of breeding parakeets and
selling them babies to Mistah Grouch, the ornery pet shop owner from whom we originally bought
our birds. His business was booming, alright, but ours was
not, for he would pay us only bottom-piso
value for our colorful green, blue, and yellow chirpers.
If you gets an albino wid red eyes, I pay
you most! Better yet, he added quickly, if you gets me a speckled albino, top-piso will be a-comin’
you!
But we’d
played along, reckoning that a small remuneration was better than being poverty-stricken
all the time. We could buy chewing gum and spend the rest of the afternoon
loafin’ around. For our own consolation, we devised a scheme to secretly “hook”
a cuttlebone on the way out to augment our measly earning for the day.
With a
righteous huff, we’d declare, That’ll
learn him to be more generous.
By and by, we
always managed to get safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment. But that ain’t
the wust of our scheming, as you’ll soon learn. The way this story winds up is
this: Third Brother and me had cooked up a plan to trick Mistah Grouch that would fetch an awful sight of money when it was
piled up.
It began that day when it was kind of lazy and jolly, and no books nor
study. Third Brother and me lay off comfortable in the grass and the cool shade
thinking about things, and feeling rested and ruther satisfied. Whilst we was
waiting for something exciting to happen, an inspiration burst upon us.
If we gets albino chicks, we can get all
creative and speckle them besides with a pentel pen.
I kid you
not. After the idea struck, we didn’t lose time to lay out a plan. We’d wait
out for the clutch of eggs to hatch and grow into feathered parakeets, then get
on with the scheme. You see, if we get a notion in our head once, there warn’t
no getting it out, regardless of what Deaconess Afrie would say about brotherly
love, good works, free grace, and prefore-ordestination. To our credit, believing
that our soul would be instantly destroyed once this plan comes to completion,
we said good generous evening prayers that went into details list that would
stretch out to the crack of doom.
How slow and
still the time did drag along. Well, fer or five weeks run along, and it was
time. That morning, I heard the neighbor’s rooster quiri, quiri, qui! and
knowed the day was coming.
Git up! Third Brother was all excited.
We got our vari-color
chicks, then the prized albinos on whom with a pentel pen, we threw in fancy
touches of speckles. We proudly eyed our creation. So fur, so good.
On the way
to the store, we was so excited our hands shook. I listened to my heart thump
and I reckon I din’t draw a breath while it thumped a hundred.
When all of a
sudden, it began to thunder and lighten. Directly it began to rain; and it
rained like all fury, too. Without as much as an old umbrella, except for a
newspaper snagged from the outside of a corner tienda to shield our goods, we dashed to the pet store. We presently
entered, with quickened pulses, muscles tense. We was afeared but there was no
going back now. There Mistah Cranky was. I stood a-looking at
him; he set there a-looking at us.
Wat you got? he said, a cautious note in his voice.
Our courage
was up now, and well in hand. Thinks I, we figured we’d get paid, then be out of
there as quickly as possible. He uncovered our babies. We waited. There was
silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to our culprit’s heart -
when squealing with delight, he blurted, Lookit!
Such good-looking red-eyed albino babies - a little damp, but white and pure as
snow!
My heart
fell down amongst my lungs and livers and things. We knowed then what happened.
It’s all jis’ as plain to us. There warn’t nothing to do now, but to git home.
For now,
Third Brother and me figured out we didn’t want no more adventures. We counted
our cash and passed by Missus Auring’s store for marshmallows. We didn’t say a
word for a good while. We set down on the grass and had a long think about it.
We reckoned we wouldn’t worry about it anymore but just let it go. It jest
worked nobler that way.
By and by, we
felt good and all washed clean of sin – thinking how near we came to being lost
and going to hell. The sun beamed down upon us, like a benediction.
Sweet Holy Spirit,
sweet heavenly Dove,
Stay right here with us, filling us with your love.
