In article <tar3b6tp779a6vd3q6hcacal2iikriotd2@4ax.com>, HMS Victor
Victorian <victorvictorian@hushunomail.com> wrote:
> Act 4, Scene 3
>
> The Grounds Man
>
> Sunday, April 11th, 12:15 pm
>
> In the walled patio and garden of St. Peter's, just off Father
> Schroeder's office. Father Schroeder has ushered Nigel out and has
> beckoned Mr. and Mrs. McMillan inside to discuss with his talk with
> Nigel. Seated on the stone garden bench just outside the door, the
> boy pulls the Royal Geographic from his waistcoat and flips through
> the picture pages again, but soon becomes bored and puts it down. He
> stands up and surveys his surroundings. The garden is very cool and a
> cascade of green, with dappled sunlight passing through boughs of
> maple and beech and pine, with shrubs and new flowers lining a stone
> path that winds away towards a mossy fountain. It seems very large,
> very quiet and somewhat frightening to a small boy, who might expect a
> Bengal tiger to leap out at any moment.
>
>
> Nigel cautiously crept along the shaded pathway, the heels to his
> Sunday best T-bars clacking along the stone way, as his eyes searched
> the shadows for any hint of some horrible predator. He came to the
> fountain and dipped a finger in the water, the ripple sending little
> skimmer bugs fleeing into the algae.
>
> At that point he smiled a little hesitant smile, undid his tie and
> waistcoat, and looked up from the fountain. Here the path forked, and
> he discovered he'd come out of a small corner of what proved to be a
> much larger affair, for the garden opened into a great lawn, and the
> sunlight rushed in. Here and there along the paths were small copses
> of tree and shrub and religious statuary, and waves of ivy, thyme and
> rosemary and sage and parsley all along the ancient stone walls.
>
> He walked into the sunlight. Shielding his brow with a hand, Nigel
> peered to the far edge of the garden. He spotted a small cottage of
> sorts and determined to walk there just to see. It seemed like quite
> a distance, indeed, and the sun was quite warm, but he undertook the
> journey nevertheless. Across the lawn and through the trees, then
> past another shaded patio, he weaved his way to the cottage, which
> clearly seemed to him to be the home of a troll.
>
> So imagine his surprise when he came around a neatly trimmed hedge to
> find a middle-aged gentleman with a moustache, in Wellingtons and work
> clothes, sitting on a bench eating his lunch.
>
> "Well! Alright, young fella!" the man cried, startling the boy.
>
> "Hello." Nigel replied timidly.
>
> "How are you today?" the man asked, his mouth full of food. "What a
> perfectly wonderful day to be out, isn't it? Warm and sunny."
>
> "Are you a troll?" Nigel asked, not believing it himself.
>
> The fellow laughed.
>
> "By Jove, no. I'm much less important than that." He said, "I'm the
> church grounds man. I take care of the garden."
>
> "Is that your cottage?"
>
> "Bit small, wouldn't you say? That's for the tools."
>
> "Oh," Nigel replied, watching him take a bite of a kipper.
>
> "How rude I am. Come on here and have a sit down." He patted the
> bench next to him, "Would you like something to eat?"
>
> The little boy walked hesitantly up to the man and sat down on the
> bench. The man gave a chuckle.
>
> "I bet that burned!" he exclaimed. "Sun's heated the bench up quite
> fiercely by now, I'd imagine. Are you broiling, then?"
>
> "No, sir."
>
> "Well, would you like a bit of kipper?"
>
> "No thank you, sir. I don't much like kippers. I think they smell
> beastly."
>
> of cake, then?"
>
> "Thank you, sir." Nigel said, taking the cake. It was chocolate and
> chocolate was his very favourite kind of cake in the world. Still, he
> only nibbled at it politely, working around the dried edges where the
> pan flour remained.
>
> "Did your wife make it?" Nigel asked.
>
> been all my life. My name's Harry. Harry Campbell. What's your's?"
>
> He extending a kippery hand. Nigel shook it, then wiped his fingers
> on his leg.
>
> "Nigel. Nigel Macmillan."
> "Well! Another Scotsman!" he said, raising his milk bottle in a
> toast, "Here's to you, Nigel Macmillan."
>
> "Have you children?"
>
>
> "Are you lonely?"
>
> "Not in particular," Harry replied, "I taught for an eternity at a
> you know. A regular Mr. Chips."
>
> "Who, sir?"
>
> "Never mind. Milk?" he offered, holding his bottle out to Nigel. The
> boy took a sip.
>
> The grounds man sat pensively looking at the boy for a bit while Nigel
> took another bite of cake and a two-handed gulp of milk. He handed
> the milk back, the mouth of the bottle smeared with chocolate. Paying
> it no mind, Harry drained the last swallow and set the bottle down on
> the pavement.
>
> "So, have you been to Mass, then?"
>
> "Yes, sir. Just now." Nigel replied. "You've got milk on your
> moustache."
>
> "Where's your mum and dad?" Harry wiped his mouth and glanced through
> the trees. "They in the garden, too?"
>
> "I don't suppose so," Nigel said, studying his wristwatch. "They're in
> a meeting with Farther Arnie in his office."
>
> "Nice Pooh watch," the gardener said, then leaned into Nigel
> confidentially and asked, "So what's the meeting about? If you don't
> mind me being nosey."
>
> "About me."
>
> "About YOU?" He let out. "Bollucks! You don't say!"
>
> "That's a bad word."
>
> "Sorry."Harry apologised, "Why?"
>
> "Mum and Dad told him I've got a difficulty." The boy volunteered,
> twirling a lock of chestnut hair around a little finger.
>
> "Father Schroeder is very good with kids. What kind of 'difficulty'?
> You seem like a right kind of chap." Harry said, looking the boy up
> and down, "For all I can see, anyhow."
>
> "I take my clothes off."
>
> "I'll be buggered! Really?"
>
> "That's a bad word, and you'll get in trouble with Father Arnie,"
> Nigel admonished the grounds man, then, feeling more confident,
> continued.
>
> "I don't do it ALL the time." the boy complained, "Just when I'm
> uncomfortable ... at home and in the neighbourhood and in Mrs.
> Farthley's class, in the headmaster's office, and on the athletic
>
> Nigel stopped, and leaned back into Harry, looking up with a secretive
>
> "Of course not."
>
> "And in Mass, today," the boy finished.
>
> Harry slapped his dusty overalls in astonishment.
>
>
> Nigel gave him a frown.
>
> "Damn's not a bad word," the gardener protested, giving Nigel a pinch
> on the cheek, "Is it?"
>
> "I don't understand," Nigel said sadly and suddenly felt completely
> secure reaching out and taking hold of Harry's little finger.
>
> "Everyone gets very upset when I become uncomfortable."
>
> "Are you comfortable now?" Harry asked.
>
> "Yes, sir."
>
> "Well, you see," the man reasoned, "Sometimes it's alright. The
> secret is knowing when, and what to do to outsmart people."
>
> "Outsmart people?" Nigel asked, squeezing the man's finger."How?"
>
> The man scratched his chin.
>
>
> "How does it work?" Nigel asked skeptically.
>
> "Let's say, just for argument, you're in Mrs. Fart-what-ever's class,"
>
> Nigel giggled. "You said Mrs. FART!"
>
> "And you see the kids all there, and you know they THINK you're going
> to go starkers, but instead, you say your incantation and you DON'T!
> Now they're all cheesed off 'cause they guessed wrong."
>
> It was a captivating idea.
>
> "Do you have an incantation?" Nigel breathed.
>
> "Yeah. Of course. Got to when you're a teacher." Harry leaned back
> and folded his arms in satisfaction. "I used it on my boys for years,
> but mostly on other teachers and headmasters and such. Not much use
> for it now, though."
>
> "Can I have it?"
>
> "Nope," Harry replied.
>
> "Why not?"
>
> "It has to be bespoke for you and you alone. Can't lend 'em and you
> can't trade 'em, either."
>
> "Can I get one?"
>
> Harry jutted his jaw forward in thought and looked into the branches
> overhead.
>
> "Sure, mate. Let's see if I can think one up for you."
>
> So Nigel sat there very patiently while the grounds man stirred his
> brain. It seemed forever.
>
> "Well?" Nigel asked, shaking Harry's little finger insistently. "Do
> you have one for me?"
>
> "Aha!" Harry announced dramatically, clapping hands in glee. "I've got
> one that's the mutt's nuts!"
>
> "That's a nasty word." Nigel whispered.
>
> "Belt up, or I'll forget it." He paused. "Here it is. Are you
> ready?"
>
> "Yes!"
>
> "Now don't say it, just listen first. You've got to do it just right,
> and you've got to clap or it won't work proper."
>
> "Yes, yes!" Nigel urged, starting to squirm.
>
> Then, clapping to the beat, Harry the grounds man recited the
> incantation.
>
> Monkey's Dirty Underwear
> Monkey's Dirty Underwear
> Everybody's going to stare,
> At Monkey's Dirty Underwear!
>
> Nigel actually squealed with delight, as it were the most delectably
> scandalous thing he'd ever heard.
>
> You just made it up."
>
> "You just see, Nigel."Harry said with infectious enthusiasm, "Try it
> out on the first person you meet and see if it doesn't leave 'em
> flatfooted. But remember, you've got to CLAP and keep CLAPPING until
> it works!"
>
> "Like this?" the boy asked, and began to recite, clapping in time. He
> broke into giggles at several key moments, and Harry would give him a
> disapproving look.
>
> "It's got to be perfect." he explained, "Some people are stronger
> against it than others, so you've got to keep saying it and keep
> clapping until it gets to them."
>
> Nigel put on a deeply serious expression and tried again.
>
> Monkey's Dirty Underwear
> Monkey's Dirty Underwear
> Everybody's going to stare,
> At Monkey's Dirty Underwear!
>
> "That was fantastic! The dog's bollocks, I tell you!" Harry beamed,
> "Why, I've never heard it said so well. Now, every time you get to
> feeling uncomfortable, say your bespoken incantation and just see what
> happens! Everyone near you will stop and listen and, Bob's-yer-uncle,
> you've fooled them! And you'll still be in your clothes! But
> remember," the grounds man warned, "You've got to clap!"
>
> "Thank you, Mr. Harry! I swear I'll do it just right." Nigel swore
> solemnly, "I promise!"
>
> "Now that's a good lad." Harry smiled.
>
> Nigel stood up and began prancing about on the lawn-mostly because the
> walk was too hot for bare toes-just as he imagined Christopher Robin
> did with Pooh, saying the incantation under his breath again and
> again. Suddenly, Nigel stopped, turned and looked at the man.
> "Do you take care of other gardens?"
>
> "Well," Harry replied, "I've got my own at home, and a fine garden it
> is, too."
>
> "Did you make the garden where Adam and Eve lived, too?"
>
> "What! The Garden of Eden? Look, laddie. I'm not Methuselah."
>
> "Oh." Nigel said, a bit downhearted. "I just thought maybe you had,
> and you didn't know that the garden's all overgrown and bushy and then
> you'd go fix it up and then let all the animals in again."
>
> "We'll have to leave that to the Almighty. I'm plenty busy here."
>
> Both of them fell silent for a time. Shortly they perceived voices
>
> "Wait, here's his socks," someone said.
>
>
> "There! He's thrown his undies over into the ivy."
>
> Then, unmistakeably, came Father Arnie's high voice.
>
> like that! So you'll consider putting him in school here next
> session?"
>
> Harry glanced quickly at Nigel.
>
> "Your mum and dad?"
>
> Nigel nodded. "And Father Arnie."
>
> "Well, I'd say you've been snooped out! You left a pretty obvious
> trail."
>
> Harry stood up and held out a hand. Nigel held out his, and the man's
> fingers gently wrapped around the boy's delicate hand.
>
> "Getting stiff sitting from arthritis," Harry grumbled, "Come on.
> Let's meet your parents."
>
> Then the grounds man gave Nigel a confidential wink.
>
>
> HMSVV2010
An incantation! Great idea. I can't wait to see how well it works.
It's good to see you address issues. And undress them. Or would that be
unpants them? LOL
In some future Stevie stories I haven't written yet, Stevie will take
his clothes off every chance he gets, and somebody named Nigel will try
to put them back on him. In your honor.
--
Grant
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