The Tail of a Turtle

You may not be aware, but the lowly turtle is actually the first known purveyor of the stars from Planet Earth. Within the turtle’s squat tail lies the aftereffects of a weekend long party by the Borganzines around 5 million B.C. Due to the drunken exploits of a particularly wild group of physicists, a tiny interplanetary gravitational distortion field is housed in the tip of each tail. The result of this field is that the tip of every turtle’s tail is constantly gallivanting through the galaxy. A fact much to the chagrin of the Luvian Emperor, who choked to death when he accidentally bit one of the traveling turtle tails.

A Man's Nose and the Trouble It Caused

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a man named William.  William was a short man, with a gnarled face that exuded a nose that threatened to tip his lank form over to the ground.  That nose is where this story begins.  Walking upon a path that was bordered by perfect flowers, William was using his nose to the greatest advantage.  The fragrant flowers filled his wide nostrils, and for a time he walked with head tilted back and nose poking forward as if he might take flight any minute. 

The olfactory romance was not to be, though, as a putrid odor invaded his peaceful jaunt.  He stopped.  He sniffed.  He gagged.  He grew angry, for someone was ruining his walk.  What could create such a foul smell he could not guess.  It smelled like a mixture of dead skunk, pig, soured milk, and unwashed trolls feet (You may, at this point, wonder about the existence of trolls.  Please be aware that they are real.  They are in no way written into this story as a means of creating an artificial need for a parenthetical statement for the author to exhibit his wittiness.  Please continue.  Bacon.). 

He walked in a broad circle, sniffing as he walked.  He found that off the path to the east, where the sun had not long ago peaked out, the smell grew stronger.  In that direction he set off through the woods.  It was rough going, both for the dense undergrowth and for the ever-growing kick in the face that was the odor.  More than once William retched onto the forest floor until there was nothing left.  He grew angrier with each step.  He began mumbling to himself the things he'd say to whoever was letting that smell pollute this beautiful forrest.  He also made up his mind that poltergeists weren't real. This has no relation to the story at hand, but for William was no small a realization.  He had been hearing the strangest sound whenever he would use the necessary, coming from a hole in the wall.  It would start a few seconds after he entered and stop just as he was leaving the room.  It was a  sort of scurrying noise followed by a thud.  He had feared ghosts, but had decided that more likely it was the mouse whom he had almost caught, but instead put out a single eye.  Likely it was in the hole, running a the sight of him only to smack into a wall as it veered into its bum eye.

It was with this pleasing thought that William exited the forest into a large clearing.  To the right and left the forest extended like a giant hedge meant to keep the neighbors away.  In front was a rolling, grassy field for a hundred yards or so, then the mighty Hiawathahana River.  Close ahead, beside a large pot over a raging fire, was a lumpy, green-skinned troll was boiling her laundry.

"Well, that explains things..." William sighed to himself.   His angry words died on his lips.  He was fond of having his limbs attached, so he quickly moved to walk back into the forest.  His noisy approach and exit had alerted his presence, though, and the troll was already turning toward him. 

The troll eyed him from about 20 yards away.  This lasted for 5 seconds, neither moving, until the creature roared violently and raced after William.  William, deciding quickly that death wasn't his preferred method of ending this day, ran to the forest.  He was in before the troll caught up, and was gracefully dodging limbs and holes while behind him the troll ripped up the forest to clear his path.

He ran for what seemed like hours, never quite getting away from the creature before a cracking branch or a startle grunt of pain from a scratch would bring the troll's attention and the panicked race would begin anew.  It was almost at the end of his strength that he took a turn around a massive tree whose branches grew low to the ground. He quickly and nimbly, especially for an old man, climbed into the tree, up high enough to be above the vision of the troll.  His chest rose and fell hard, and he listened for the monster.  He was certain the beating of his heart alone would give him away.  He stayed in his spot for a few moments hearing the beast crashing toward him.  The troll appeared under the branches, and thankfully never paused as it ran underneath.  For many minutes William listened as the sound of the creature's passage faded into the distance.  He climbed down from his perch and made his way back to his village using the sun to guide him, ignoring the scent as if it was a sweet smelling boom that didn't have a crazed troll waiting for you at the end.

Smudges - A Bit of Prose

Do you wear glasses?  If you do, I bet you hate smudges.  I hate smudges.  Smudges at the bottom of my glasses are the worst.  I can tell it’s there, but only just.  Then I wipe, but I have to make sure that I use a clean cloth.  If I don’t, the oil from the cloth will rub onto the glasses and I’ll have even worse smudges.  There’s a specific way to get glasses really clean, too.  Starting with the cloth (don’t forget it has to be clean), you cup your hand around the lens, then holding the lens perpendicular to your mouth, “Haaaa” softly onto the lens so that both sides get moistened from your breath.  Then quickly rub the sides with the clean cloth.  You might have to do it several times.  My wife doesn’t use a clean cloth.  Her glasses don’t get clean.  I tried to tell her the cloth has to be oil-free.  She says I’m acting like I’m better than her.  I’m not better than her.  I told her that, but she doesn’t understand.  She gets upset, I get upset, the kids get upset.  Makes me tired. 

I was tired yesterday too on my way home from work.  I work in sales.  Don’t know why, because I’m not very good.  But I’m okay, so I make okay money, and the company gives me okay reviews, so I keep doing it.  I thought once about quitting.  Not quitting the job, but just to quit trying so they’d fire me.  Anyways, I was tired when I drove home, and I was getting sleepy when I went around the curve there at Knob Street.  That curve scared the living daylights out of me because I was dozing off a bit.  I came to right before it and everything was fine, but I could’ve died if I hadn’t come to.  I’ve never turned onto Knob Street.  I’ve driven that road 5,734 times.  Actually, 5,728.  They had it closed down for 6 days two years ago.  So, 5,728 times seeing Knob Street.  Knob Street curves itself behind some trees not far from the main road, so I don’t know what’s down it.  I can make out a blue house, and an RV parked outside.  There’s a basketball goal, and they let a trash can fill up every week.  The RV leaves once each summer and I can see the cars parked on the other side.  At first, there was a blue pickup and a green little sporty type car.  After 4 years, the car disappeared and a mini-van replaced it.  The mini-van has been replaced by other mini-vans and the truck by other trucks. 

The ditch along Knob Street is full of trash, mainly beer bottles.  It’ll get cleaned up every third Wednesday when the county convicts are out picking up the roadsides, but by the next month it’s dirty again.  I wonder if it’s the people in the blue house that cause all the trash.  I don’t know if there are any other houses to make the trash. 

Tomorrow will be the 5,729^th time I go by Knob Street.  I might take a look at it.  It’d be fun.  But I just don’t know if I have the time, since I’ve got to get the yard mowed before seven.  Or maybe I’ll wait until next week.  I’ll probably have more time next week.  Yeah, that sounds like a plan.