On 10 Oct 2010 20:48:01 -0500, " +Grant. " <+Grant@grant.grant> wrote:
>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.
Dear Grant,
Thank you for your compliments. I do appreciate that you have
recognised I am addressing issues, trying hard not to be so clever as
to completely muddle them! Hopefully, I am succeeding!
I look forward to seeing Nigel in your next installments, tho' I
suspect MY Nigel would be assisting YOUR Steven in disrobing.
Most Sincerely,
V
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
|
|