St Muckymuck, Season 2. The Kilcathclyde Tales: Joseph's Tale

The Kilcathclyde Tales

Joseph’s Tale:

Meddling

Once upon a time there was a string quintet that auditioned a new viola player.  They all liked her playing, thought she was very nice, and liked her very much.  She quickly became friends with all four other players but she became especially close to the cellist who sat to her left.

One day the cellist came to rehearsal wearing a brand new outfit.  All thought she looked lovely but the violist made a slight suggestion and then she herself rearranged the cellist’s scarf.  This improved the look so much that the others clapped and the cellist was very happy.

Later on during the rehearsal, the violist noticed that the cellist’s handbag was broken.  She indicated this to the cellist who merely shrugged, as she didn’t know what could be done about it.  But the violist took the bag in order to fix it.  At first, the cellist didn’t want to allow her bag to be taken, but thought better of it and relented as the violist gestured that all would be OK.  Within seconds, the bag was fixed and the cellist was delighted.

Later still, the cellist took out a photograph in a special gilt frame.  She admired the special person in it for a moment with a gleam in her eye and a glow on her face, and then showed it to the violist.  But to the cellist’s surprise, the violist frowned, disapprovingly.  She then produced a photograph from her own handbag  and indicated that the cellist should end whatever special relationship with the person in her photograph and that she’d be happier with the violist’s, friend instead.

The cellist withdrew and turned away, looking at the person in the photograph, protectively.  The violist reached over and grabbed the cellist’s photograph to take it away, but it slipped from her hand, flew across the stage, and broke.  The cellist then ran after the photograph and carefully picked up all the pieces of the frame.

The violist apologized profusely and offered to fix it.  The cellist was wary now but eventually agreed and allowed the violist to repair the broken photograph frame.  The rehearsal continued.

All of a sudden, one of the cellist’s strings broke.  The catastrophe brought the practice to a halt, as the cellist went to her instrument case to get a new string.  The violist quickly moved in with an offer to fix the cello but this time, the cellist stated very clearly that she needed no help.  The violist insisted and in a bold move tried to snatch the instrument away, but the cellist pushed her back and moved the cello out of her reach.

In anger, the violist charged forward and wrenched it from its owner.  It slipped and then spun across the stage, knocked over the cellist’s music stand, which fell on it with a loud crash and destroyed it.  This turned over the cellist’s chair which tore the repaired bag worse than ever, spilled its contents onto the stage, and completely shattered the previously mended photograph frame.

When the cellist surveyed the broken bag, photograph, and, worst of all, cello, before her, she dissolved into tears.  The violist moved to comfort her but to no avail.  She offered to fix the cello but the cellist continued to sob and shook her head, then she offered to buy a new one.  But, it was too late, the damage had been done.

The moral is:  the best way to help others is to be supportive and encouraging.  You cannot sort out another’s problems for them and trying doing so usually does more harm than good.

 ©2011 Steven Gorman. All rights reserved.

Malky's Mayhem Continues

WHAT YOU ARE READING IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Meanwhile, in the middle of all the mayhem stood Shug, silently, head bowed, eyes fixed on the cobbled setts of Bunnicula Square. He swallowed hard, desperately fighting back the tears threatening to overwhelm him. He wished this day was over, wished he was back in his flat, where he could sit quietly on the bed he and Bandit had shared and give vent to his grief in private.

His mind wandered back to that day, five short years ago when he rescued Bandit from his miserable life of cruelty. The little cat was terrified and trembled violently in Shug’s arms that first night. He’d been abused and horribly treated and Shug made a promise to him and to God that he would never suffer again. A hot tear trickled down his face as he thought of all they’d been through together since that day. He blamed himself for the tragedy which had befallen Bandit, and yet he was proud, proud that the love he’d shown Bandit had allowed him to blossom into a brave little kitty who saved a whole city from certain death and destruction. A true example of the power of love.

Meanwhile, Malky was still pontificating endlessly on the dais.  Everyone was starting to yawn and shuffle their feet, bored with his nonsensical meanderings. Shug gave a wan smile as he heard folks muttering ‘Get bloody on with it, ya halfwit!’ and ‘Shut yer yap Malky!’  Even Malky’s bodyguards were losing the will to live.

Suddenly and without warning, a black stretch limo with blacked out windows whizzed noisily around the western side of Bunnicula Square and screeched to a halt square in front of Malky who was still talking, oblivious to all going on around him.

‘And...’ he continued, puffing out his considerable chest, ‘as we gather here today to honour this brave, selfless, furry wee.....’

‘DUCK!!!’ yelled one of the bodyguards, as a sawn off shotgun emerged from the back nearside window of the limo and aimed directly at Malky and began shooting, peppering the dais with pellets.

Everyone in the square, including the penguins, instantly and simultaneously fell to the ground, miraculously avoiding the shots.

The residents of Kilcathclyde were used to this sort of occurrence. Everywhere Malky went someone tried to assassinate him. In the 4 years he’d been Mayor, there had been 72 unsuccessful attempts on his life.  Sadly though, he’d lost 47 bodyguards.

The limo sped off noisily as the inhabitants of the square stood up. Without missing a beat, Malky continued with his seemingly endless speech. ‘.....cat.  And it gives me great pleasure and pride to unveil this tribute, commemorating this brave, heroic, valiant....’

‘In the name of the wee man, get oan wi’ it, ya bampot....I want hame for ma tea some time this millennium!’ came a voice from deep within the crowd. 

Shug looked up, bemused. He could have sworn it sounded exactly like Father Eamonn.

‘Awright, awright, keep yer hair oan buddy!’ retorted Malky.

‘I give you, the plucky, the fearless....’. The crowd gave a collective groan.  ‘Bandit Grant!’. Malky unveiled a large statue of a cat, sat atop a giant sink plug, proferring his left paw, holding a tiny spider.

Shug gulped back a sob, proudly accepting the clamorous applause and cheering from the crowd who were anxious to show their gratitude and appreciation.

Just at that moment, Shug heard the most beautiful, ethereal sound. He turned to see where it was coming from and saw 741 penguins, formed in a guard of honour around Bandit’s statue, gently singing the Humming Song from Madam Butterfly.

The tears flowed now, unashamedly and proudly as Shug turned to make his way homeward. He glanced idly at Malky being bundled unceremoniously into his armoured Mercedes by his three remaining bodyguards with Kenny McKiltie chasing close by, desperate for an exclusive quote. Shug was glad it was over.

As he walked along Eglise Lane behind the Cathedral, through the gloom he saw four penguins standing on top of each other fixing a poster to the side of the Cathedral. It read

The Bandit Grant Memorial Service.

St Mochemoc’s Cathedral. Sunday 4am.

Main concelebrant: Percival the Great

Music by Elsie Arachnid

Eulogy by Ginger Malarky

As Shug mused on this he felt someone bump into him from behind. He turned round to say ‘pardon me’ only to be confronted by a sniggering, sneering and smelly Myra Dick.

‘You’re next.’ She hissed, pointing a knobbly forefinger at him.

Shug gasped. ‘It was you! You killed my Bandit. You....evil....witch....!’ Shug fell to his knees, breathless with rage and grief. He clutched his chest.

Myra coldly extended her right foot and placed it on Shug’s heaving shoulder and callously pushed him over into the muddy puddle in the lane.

Shug lay there sobbing for two hours, 31 minutes.  Eventually as darkness enveloped the city of Kilcathclyde he stood up, aided by the four penguins who had run off in fright when Myra Dick appeared.

He gazed up into the night sky, took a deep breath and said, ‘Don’t worry, my little one. I will avenge you Bandit. I’ll think of some way to get her back. After all, tomorrow’s another day......’

©2011 Steven Gorman. All rights reserved.

 

St Muckymuck, Season 2. The Kilcathclyde Tales: Mary's Tale

The Kilcathclyde Tales

Mary’s Tale

Once upon a time a string quintet was rehearsing for a performance.  They had been together for a very long time.  They worked very hard.  They sounded very good.  The music was glorious, expressive, moving.

Over the course of the rehearsal the cellist decided that she was unhappy with some music that had been chosen for the group by the first violinist, the founder and leader of the group.  And so, after the break, she decided what she would do.

When the group began to play, the sound was horrendous, as the cellist played a different piece altogether.  The first violinist stopped the rehearsal and made sure the cellist knew what piece they were all playing.  The cellist nodded but when the violinist returned to her seat, the same thing happened.  A second time, the first violinist stopped the rehearsal to make sure the cellist had the correct piece.  When the same thing occurred for a third time, the first violinist rose from her seat and scolded the cellist.

But as the leader returned to her seat, a dark look came over the cellist who smiled nefariously and whispered something to the violist, who was to her right.  They both looked in the direction of the first violinist with wicked grins on their faces and then nodded.  When the rehearsal recommenced, the violist and cellist now played the same tune while the other three played what was asked of them.

The leader rose again, flustered.  She approached both musicians and scolded each, severely.  At this, the cellist turned to the double bass player on her left and whispered in her ear.  Now, violist, cellist, and bassist grinned maliciously and when the rehearsal started again, all three played the same piece but different from the others.

The first violinist went into conversation with the second violinist who through her gestures made it clear that she had no idea what was going on while the first scratched her head in puzzlement.  Meanwhile, the cellist turned to her followers and suggested the next piece they would play.  But the violist shook her head and suggested a different one.  The cellist rebuked her and pointed to the piece she had chosen but the violist smiled at her darkly.

When the rehearsal began again the first two violinists played the same piece, the cellist and bassist played the same piece but different from the first two musicians and the violist played a third piece of her own choosing.  The noise was ugly.

Now the leader rebuked the violist, cellist, and bassist, who in turn rebuked the violist, too.  Then the cellist suggested a different piece to the bassist, who disagreed with her, profusely. When the players began again, four different pieces were heard as a dissonant and clashing cacophony, highly offensive to any and all who might have been listening.

Having reached the end of her tether, the first violinist rose from her chair, furious in her disappointment at the group’s strange behavior.  She then dismissed the violist, cellist, and bassist.  The three stormed out in colossal outrage.  The leader went into the wings and returned with three new players.  They all shook hands.  She signified that they were one and then gave the title of the piece they were to rehearse.  They all nodded and began to play.  The sound was glorious once more.

Presently, the three dismissed string players returned – looking dejected because they were no longer part of the group.  They missed being part of it.  The leader rose and consulted with the cellist who indicated that all three wanted to return.  The first violinist begged her to wait and then turned to the group.  They all nodded that the three former members should be in the group, too.

Then, the leader returned and shook the hands of the three restored members, who were delighted as she motioned for them to acquire seats and take their places.  Once all were in place, the first violinist made a large circular gesture and then held up a single finger.  They all smiled and nodded, turned to the piece requested and began to play.

The sound was more magnificent than ever, more glorious, stronger, and even more expressive because the group had grown.  Everyone came to their performances to hear the now string octet’s incredible sonority.

The moral is:  unity is harmony, harmony is unity.

 ©2011 Steven Gorman. All rights reserved.

St Muckymuck, Season 2 The Kilcathclyde Tales: Introduction

Introduction

On the road to the north

Where the wind doth blow

And the water doth rise

And doth overflow.

Three short stories were told

Of things most precious

Songs of love, friends, and gold,

Quite superstitious.

To pass the time from South

To North was its goal
And share about this life,

Save one's only soul.

©2011 Steven Gorman. All rights reserved.

St Muckymuck, Season 2: Mary and Joseph Lend Their Aid

Mary and Joseph led Bandit across the beach to a set of stairs at the far end.  At the top, there was a broad, busy street that ran along the water.  “Now, be careful, Love,” said Mary to the cat.  “The traffic here is something fierce but we’ll guide you across.  Just stick with us.”

“OK,” said Bandit, looking at her with his saucer-like green eyes.

“I’ll go in front of you, Love,” said Joseph.  “Mary will fly overhead and make sure the coast is clear.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” said Bandit, winking and mocking a salute.  He winced.

“You alright, Love,” said Joseph, his Liverpudlian accent coming through clearly.

“Yes, I don’t think I can move too fast,” he replied, as the pain subsided.

“Mary, my Love,” called Joseph to his wife.

“Yes, my Love,” she replied.

“We can’t be moving too quickly.  This boy can’t.”

“Oh, poor dear,” she said.  “If we time our crossing with the light at newsstand on the corner, it should give us enough time.  I can press the button, my Love, to make sure we get a green man.”

“Oh, ‘at’s cracking, my Love,” said Joseph.  “God sure knew what he was doin’ when he put you together.”

“And aren’t you the sweetest love on the earth,” she said.  They rubbed beaks.

“OK, Love,” said Joseph to Bandit.  “’Ere we go.”

They made it to the top of the stairs and onto the pavement.  The street was bustling with people and cars.  It did not seem that there would be any way to get across, thought Bandit.  The pain in his back leg increased with the thought of having to run across the street.

Mary swooped down and clanged the ‘walk’ button then circled over the light.  By some miracle not a single car came and, what’s more, not one person noticed a cat and two seagulls crossing the street while the green man glowed brightly a few moments later.  The minute the light turned green again, the traffic seemed to appear out of nowhere and resumed its frantic pace as the motley crew moved into a narrow alley behind a Boots Pharmacy.

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU ARE READING IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

 

Mary floated down next to her husband and the cat.  “How are we, Love?” she asked tenderly.

“Well, I’m definitely sore but I’m doing OK,” he replied.

Joseph moved to Bandit’s rear and looked down at his leg.  “Well, you’re not bleedin’.  But we’d better not waste any time.  Let’s get moving sharpish.”

“Well, the vet is not far from here.  We just proceed down this alley and it’s at the other end.”

“How far is it?” asked Bandit.

“Oh, what do you say, Joseph,” she said turning to the other seagull.

“Six or seven blocks, at the most,” he said, eyeing the alley.

They walked along behind several buildings and passed a fox going through a torn garbage bag.

“Well, good mornin’, Love,” said Joseph, waving at the fox, who came over to the three.

“Good mornin’ yourself, Joseph…Mary.  How are we this fine day?”

“Well, we’re doing very well,” said Joseph.

“How’s the little one?  Not sick anymore, I take it.”

“No, Josh is fine now.  Gave his case of albatross pox to his brother, though,” said Mary.

“No…poor lad,” said the fox, sympathetically.

“Aye,” she replied.  “Bless him.  James has got them even on the bottoms of his little feet.”  She lifted her foot.  “He can barely walk.”

“Oh, dear, ‘at’s a right shame, that is,” said the fox.

“Aye,” said Joseph.  “He went and huddled close to the fireplace just as he got sick and I reckon it caused the rash to be worse.  We took him to see the vet and you won’t believe what she told us to do.”

“What’s that, Love?” said the fox, ears fully forward, eager to hear the answer.

“Rub honey all over him,” said Joseph, nodding.

“No!  You don’ say, Love,” said the fox.  “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Aye,” said Mary.  “She told us it draws the itch out.  Made a right mess of the nest, though, I can tell you that.  We had a terrible time getting the feathers off the floor of his room.  Nearly pulled up all that new wood panelling Joseph laid last summer.”  Mary paused.  “The vet also advised us to get our next set of hatchlings vaccinated.”

“Against albatross pox?” said the fox, eyebrows raised.

“Aye, she did,” said Mary.  “We’ve decided we will, we don’t need any more autumns like this one, Love.  How’s your brood, George?”

“Well, we’re doing alright, Edna says our youngest son is going to do her head in but that’s just because he’s rebellious and speaks his mind,” said George the fox.

“Oh, we had a couple like that several years back,” said Joseph.  “A set of twins that had us both pulling our tails out.  But we survived.  You’ll be OK, Love.  You will.”

“Aye, that’s what I keep telling Edna.  I think the lad’s taken after her anyhow!”  They all laughed.  “And who might this strapping young lad be?”

“This is…this is…” said Mary.  “Oh dear, we don’t know his name.  And he don’t either.  We found him injured down on the beach and are taking him to the vet.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.  I’ll join you on your journey.  I can help watch out for trouble.”

“That’d be great, Love,” said Joseph.  “Mary’s flying overhead, I’ll go in the front and you can bring up the rear.”

“Aye, that’d be fine,” said George.

They walked along the alley for another ten minutes or so and reached a small black door.  Mary rapped on it with her beak and presently a sleek calico cat appeared through a virtually invisible flap.  “Oh, ‘ello Mary,” said the cat.  “’Ow are you?”

“Good afternoon, Chloe,” said Mary.  “We’ve got someone who needs to see the vet pretty quick.”  She pointed to Bandit.

“What’s the problem, Love?” said Chloe.

“Well, I’ve been injured somehow,” he said, turning around.

“Ohhh…” groaned Chloe.  “Could be worse, Love!  You could be missing that leg!”

“I hope I’m not after I see the vet!” said Bandit, worried.

“Oh, it doesn’t look that bad.  It might need stitches, though.  I’ll get the doctor.”

She went back inside and within a few minutes, the black door opened and a slender, pretty blonde girl appeared wearing a white overcoat.  Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail.   “I’m Doctor Tatjana,” she said.  “Why don’t you four come in and I’ll have a look at the patient.”  She bent over and picked Bandit up and set him on a metal table.  He winced sharply as she examined his leg.  “Well, you’re a lucky puss,” she said, manipulating his leg.  “If you had gone another day or two this would have gotten infected and I might not have been able to save it.  But at the moment it appears to not be infected.  However, it’s going to need to be sewed up.  I’ll be right back with the instruments for the job.”

She left the room.  Mary hopped up onto the table.  “You’ll be OK, Love.  We’ll stay with you, don’t worry.  And we’re going to help find out who you are and where you belong, too.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mary.  You are the most special seagull…of all creatures.”

Mary blushed and batted tears from her eyes.  “You’re going to be OK, Love.  We’ll see to it.”

Dr. Tatjana reappeared with a syringe in her mouth, two vials of medicine, a pair of metal scissors and some thread.  “OK, everybody out into the waiting room while I sew up this young feline here.”  There was a moment where all three attendants begged to stay but the doctor put her foot down.  “Out!  You can see him afterwards and you can stay with him tonight if you like.  Chloe will see to the accommodations.”

Bandit heard the door click and the voices become muffled.  He thought he her heard something from George saying he was going to visit the vending machines in the lobby.  Dr. Tatjana gave him a shot, which he severely disliked and then everything began to fade into mist.  As from another dimension and as he began to drift into a heavy sleep, he heard:

“This is the KBC World News Service.  I’m Kenny McKiltie.  The city of Kilcathclyde in the hills of Western Scotland along the River Clyde has been saved.  The whole of the UK has been in a dither as to how to rid the city and its environs of the many millions of gallons of water washed down from Goldilochs Minor after the tsunami following last summer’s severe earthquake in New Zealand.  The KBC has just learned that a cat by the name of Bandit…”

***

“Honey…Bandit…Honey…”

Bandit’s eyes opened slowly.  Everything was hazy and as though being viewed down the wrong end of a telescope.  “Huh?”

“Honey…Bandit, Honey…Bandit…”

The cat raised his head slowly.  “Bandit?  Yes…Bandit…”

Mary the Seagull tapped him on the shoulder.  “Honey…we know who you are, Love.  We know!  You’re name is Bandit.”

Bandit shook his head.  “Yes…yes…that’s right…”

Dr. Tatjana came in.  “Well, look who’s awake?  You are a celebrity, my little feline friend,” she said.  He blinked up at her.  “You are one lucky little fella.  We have a trip to take.”

Bandit frowned.   Joseph appeared.  “How are you feeling, Love?”

“Groggy,” replied Bandit.

“You won’t believe what’s going on outside this office?” said Joseph.

“What?” said Bandit, the grogginess clearing for a brief second.

“Oh, Love, the word has gotten out.  Dr. Tatjana thinks someone hacked into her mobile phone.  That’s the only explanation, Love, ‘cuz there are at least a hundred journalists out front on the street.”

Bandit dropped his head back to the table and sighed.  “Who?  …What?  …When?  …WHY???”  he paused and sighed again in a moment of sedated buzz.  “HOW??!!”

Breathing hard, Dr. Tatjana swept into the office with a cat carrier.  “OK, everybody,  Bandit goes in here and we are going out the back door.  Chloe is going to stay here and stall for us.”

“Stall?” said Bandit, sighing.

“Yes,” said Mary.  “We’re all going with you.”

Bandit looked at her out of the corner of his eye.  “Where are we going?”

“Home.”  ©2011 Steven Gorman. All rights reserved.