Mulled Vine

It came to pass long ago, when the earth was young and the internet a fishing term, that a baby boy was born to the farmer and his wife. The farmer was immensely pleased, as he had worked hard to build up his farm and needed a son to help him at his labours. The boy grew up quickly into a fine, handsome young lad of golden disposition, however it soon became apparent to the farmer and his wife that their son was bone idle. At first his mother attributed it to an artistic strain in their family, but since he did nothing but spend his days dreaming under the apple tree on the hill, they eventually realised that there would be no practical manifestation of his gift. Perhaps this is all a little unfair on the young lad, because whilst he had idle notions, he did sometimes show promise: like the time he thought to weave a 3ft daisy chain for his mother. He was however so immensely proud of this achievement that he kept the floral necklace for himself.

The years went by, and it was not long before his parents had passed away and the lad, now a young man, sat idly under the apple tree, contemplating what to do with his inheritance. The farm he had of course sold immediately as he knew not, and indeed cared not, what to do with it. The bag of gold sat heavily in his lap and he regretted having asked for quite so much.

An apple fell to the ground and rolled down the hill towards the road, and the young man in that instant decided to follow it and see the world that had not bothered him much before. He set off with a jaunty stride, gold in hand, dreams in his head, whistling a little tune his mother had taught him.

Not long after that, perhaps not even an hour, he began to feel hunger pangs and he wondered what he would do for food. It was quite a problem as he was in the middle of nowhere. In the distance however he spied a man sitting next to a cow, seemingly eating his lunch. He smiled, pleased with his good fortune, and ran towards the stranger. On arrival he greeted the man and asked if he could have some of his bread and cheese. The man looked at him with some surprise, no doubt wondering whether an exchange was to be offered, but since none was forthcoming and being a charitable fellow, he shared his lunch with the young man. They fell to talking, or at least the young man talked at length about himself, until he noticed that the cow was a milk cow.

“Sir, I don’t suppose you would give me your cow, so I can have milk the rest of my days and need not go hungry?”
The man replied, “Son, I have just acquired this cow through a trade and am not inclined to give it away.” The young man looked so downcast that the man continued, “However I did exchange some magic beans for it, and if you hurry you might be able to catch up with the youngster I gave them to. Perhaps he would give you one or two.”

The young man cheered up immediately and was about to run off when he thought, “this bag of gold will slow me down, I shall give it to the man.” So he did, and set off at pace. Nightfall fell, as it usually does, and he came to small cottage in which a cosy light shone. He knocked on the door and enquired if he might have lodgings for the night. The owner of the cottage, an elderly woman and her young lad were only too glad to have visitors, for it had not been a good day. Their only cow, Tulip, had been foolishly exchanged by her son that morning for a handful of supposedly magic beans. The young man made himself at home an regaled them during supper with dreamy tales. When they enquired as to his destination he said he was looking for some magic beans he had heard about.

“Magic beans?” cried the woman, “Not you too? How strange Fortune is. We have some beans lying outside our window which you may freely have, but I doubt they are magic. However it is late and I suggest we turn in and attend to this tomorrow.” They bade each other good night and settled down to sleep, the young man sharing a bed with the woman’s son.

Dawn broke, but instead of the radiant morning sunshine, a green hue shone through the cottage windows. At first the occupants thought that the world was about to end and fell to praying, but when nothing happened, decided to go outside instead and investigate. It will no doubt not come as a surprise to you that a gigantic bean stalk had grown overnight from the magic beans and extended many miles up into the sky.

“Let’s climb it!” exclaimed the lad.
“No, it is not safe.” replied the mother.
The young man turned to her, “Do not fret, you have been so kind to me. I will hold it steady while he climbs.” The reality was that he had developed over the years a keen nose for strenuous activity and how to avoid it and this bean stalk had strenuosity written all over it!

The lad clambered quickly, watched anxiously by his mother, and soon disappeared from their sight. They stood a while, but since chores wait for no one, the mother soon went inside to attend to them. The young man settled down for a nap under the leafy shade of the bean stalk. He must have slept for a good few hours because when he awoke the sun was past noon. He wondered what had awoken him, but soon heard frantic rustling as the young lad climbed down with a hen under his arm.

“Quick, quick!” the young lad cried. “Fetch the axe.”
Fortunately his mother heard, because the idle young man knew not what fetch meant, and detecting the urgency in her son’s voice ran out with the axe.
The boy reached the ground, gasping for breath. “Giant… hen… golden eggs… coming … cut it down!”

Seeing that the young man was not hearing him, and indeed had wandered off into the orchard to look for apples, he grabbed the axe from his mother and began to frantically chop at the bast of the bean stalk. A giant roar from on high only served to increase his pace and soon the bean stalk gave a violent creak and tottered mightily. A second roar was heard, this time more like a screech, as the bean stalk began to tumble to the ground, casting its gigantic clamberer to the earth, to his death, into the apple orchard, where a young man of idle notions wondered when his fortune would hit him.

If you are a familiar reader of such fairy stories, you will no doubt be wondering what the moral is. Well fear not, here it is: “Don’t you have anything better to do than read tales of idleness?”

We sat opposite each other, matching laptops and luggage, but apart from that were different, strangers brought together by a common journey to the airport. I wondered if we might be going to the same place but there was no way of knowing since she was not wearing her destination tag, which was surprising since that was against the law. Mine said Boston, and I thought how she must feel quite naked without it, yet there she was, smiling contentedly as she stared out of the train window at the passing fields and trees. Finally, my curiosity and ire could be contained no more, and I demanded to know where her badge was, and didn’t she know that she was upsetting the natural order of things. She looked at me with obvious but very irritating bemusement, and replied that she had no badge because she had no destination. I said that was impossible and hit her over the head, before calling the authorities to clean up the disorder.

I watched the man out of the corner of my eye: dark hair, sinister eyebrows, a Lenin style beard and tightly clutched suitcase. I wondered about its contents, that little suitcase. Could this be a Russian spy, and assassin, or perhaps a mad scientist with his newly invented super virus in dry frost-encased vials? I looked at my wife anxiously, but she was oblivious to the danger that lurked scarcely 5 feet away. I nudged her and glanced pointedly at the man, my expression conveying the terror I felt, and was glad to see that she sensed and shared my concern. The man looked up, saw us watching, but hurriedly averted his eyes, I suppose for fear of giving his game away, and then, slowly, opened his suitcase, and took out what looked like a cheese sandwich.

1. Sing the Batman theme incessantly.

2. In the memo field of all your checks, write “for sensual massage.”

3. Specify that your drive-through order is “to go.”

4. Learn Morse code, and have conversations with friends in public consisting entirely of “Beeeep Bip Bip Beeep Bip…”

5. If you have a glass eye, tap on it occasionally with your pen while talking to others.

6. Amuse yourself for endless hours by hooking a camcorder to your TV and then pointing it at the screen. <

7. Speak only in a “robot” voice.

8. Push all the flat Lego pieces together tightly.

9. Start each meal by conspicuously licking all your food, and announce that this is so no one will “swipe your grub”.

10. Leave the copy machine set to reduce 200%, extra dark, 17 inch paper, 98 copies.

11. Stomp on little plastic ketchup packets.

12. Sniffle incessantly.

13. Leave your turn signal on for fifty miles.

14. Name your dog “Dog.”

15. Insist on keeping your car windshield wipers running in all weather conditions “to keep them tuned up.”

16. Reply to everything someone says with “that’s what YOU think.”

17. Claim that you must always wear a bicycle helmet as part of your “astronaut training.”

18. Declare your apartment an independent nation, and sue your neighbors upstairs for “violating your airspace”.

19. Forget the punchline to a long joke, but assure the listener it was a “real hoot.”

20. Follow a few paces behind someone, spraying everything they touch with Lysol.

21. Practice making fax and modem noises.

22. Highlight irrelevant information in scientific papers and “cc:” them to your boss.

23. Make beeping noises when a large person backs up.

24. Invent nonsense computer jargon in conversations, and see if people play along to avoid the appearance of ignorance.

25. Erect an elaborate network of ropes in your backyard, and tell the neighbors you are a “spider person.”

26. Finish all your sentences with the words “in accordance with the prophesy.”

27. Wear a special hip holster for your
remote control.

28. Do not add any inflection to the end of your sentences, producing awkward silences with the impression that you’ll be saying more any moment.

29. Signal that a conversation is over by clamping your hands over your ears.

30. Disassemble your pen and “accidentally” flip the ink cartridge across the room.

31. Give a play-by-play account of a persons every action in a nasal Howard Cosell voice.

32. Holler random numbers while someone is counting.

33. Adjust the tint on your TV so that all the people are green, and insist to others that you “like it that way.”

34. Drum on every available surface.

35. Staple papers in the middle of the page.

36. Ask 1-800 operators for dates.

37. Produce a rental video consisting entirely of dire FBI copyright warnings.

38. Sew anti-theft detector strips
into peoples backpacks.

39. Hide dairy products in inaccessible places.

40. Write the surprise ending to a novel on its first page.

41. Set alarms for random times.

42. Order a side of pork rinds with your filet mignon.

43. Instead of Gallo, serve Night Train next Thanksgiving.

44. Publicly investigate just how slowly you can make a “croaking” noise.

45. Honk and wave to strangers.

46. Dress only in clothes colored Hunters Orange.

47. Change channels five minutes before the end of every show.

48. Tape pieces of “Sweating to the Oldies” over climactic parts of rental movies.

49. Wear your pants backwards.

50. Decline to be seated at a restaurant, and simply eat their complimentary mints by the cash register.

51. Begin all your sentences with “ooh la la!”

52. ONLY TYPE IN UPPERCASE.

53. only type in lowercase.

54. dont use any punctuation either

55. Buy a large quantity of orange traffic cones and reroute whole streets.

56. Pay for your dinner with pennies.

57. Tie jingle bells to all your clothes.

58. Repeat everything someone says, as a question.

59. Write “X – BURIED TREASURE” in random spots on all of someone’s roadmaps.

60. Inform everyone you meet of your personal Kennedy assassination/UFO/ O.J Simpson conspiracy theories.

61. Repeat the following conversation a dozen times: “Do you hear that?” “What?” “Never mind, its gone now.”

62. Light road flares on a birthday cake.

63. Wander around a restaurant, asking other diners for their parsley.

64. Leave tips in Bolivian currency.

65. Demand that everyone address you as “Conquistador.”

66. At the laundromat, use one dryer for each of your socks.

67. When Christmas caroling, sing “Jingle Bells, Batman smells” until physically restrained.

68. Wear a cape that says “Magnificent One.”

69. As much as possible, skip rather than walk.

70. Stand over someone’s shoulder, mumbling, as they read.

71. Pretend your computer’s mouse is a CB radio, and talk to it.

72. Try playing the William Tell Overture by tapping on the bottom of your chin. When nearly done, announce “no, wait, I messed it up,” and repeat.

73. Drive half a block.

74. Inform others that they exist only in your imagination.

75. Ask people what gender they are.

76. Lick the filling out of all the Oreos, and place the cookie parts back.

77. Cultivate a Norwegian accent. If Norwegian, affect a Southern drawl.

78. Routinely handcuff yourself to furniture, informing the curious that you don’t want to fall off “in case the big one comes”.

79. Deliberately hum songs that will remain lodged in co-workers brains, such as “Feliz Navidad”, the Archies “Sugar” or the Mr. Rogers theme song.

80. While making presentations, occasionally bob your head. like a parakeet.

81. Lie obviously about trivial things such as the time of day.

82. Leave your Christmas lights up and lit until September.

83. Change your name to “AaJohn Aaaaasmith” for the great glory of being first in the phone book. Claim it’s a Hawaiian name, and demand that people pronounce each “a.”

84. Sit in your front yard pointing a hair dryer at passing cars to see if they slow down.

85. Chew on pens that you’ve borrowed.

86. Wear a LOT of cologne.

87. Listen to 33rpm records at 45rpm speed, and claim the faster speed is necessary because of your “superior mental processing.”

88. Sing along at the opera.

89. Mow your lawn with scissors.

90. At a golf tournament, chant “swing-batabatabata-suhWING-batter!”

91. Ask the waitress for an extra seat for your “imaginary friend.”

92. Go to a poetry recital and ask why each poem doesn’t rhyme.

93. Ask your co-workers mysterious questions, and then scribble their answers in a notebook. Mutter something
about “psychological profiles.”

94. Stare at static on the TV and claim you can see a “magic picture.”

95. Select the same song on the jukebox fifty times.

96. Never make eye contact.

97. Never break eye contact.

98. Construct elaborate “crop circles” in your front lawn.

99. Construct your own pretend “tricorder,” and “scan” people with it, announcing the results.

100. Make appointments for the 31st of September.

101. Invite lots of people to other people’s parties.

I imagine meeting God at the end of time and asking him if it is OK for me to ask some questions that have been on my mind lately. I imagine Him nodding lovingly and patiently, seeing my confusion and my anger, and beginning:

“Go ahead.”

“So, it’s up or down from here on?”
“Yes, figuratively speaking.”
“And I’m going…?”
“Down.”
“Down?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“You didn’t wholly believe the Truth about me, about my Son, who is the only Way to me.”
“But I did believe!”
“Not enough.”
“How do you mean?”
“You were filled with doubt.”
“But that’s my nature!”
“That’s your sin nature.”
“But Thomas doubted, and he got a sign!”
“That was then. His sign should be your sign.”
“It’s not enough. There is too much uncertainty about your Truth.”
“I thought it was pretty clear.”
“You would say that. At the end of the day its only clear if people can find you.”
“People do.”
“Yes, but they also find lots of other Gods. What about them?”
“They are mistaken.”
“But sincere?”
“Sincerity is not enough.”
“Clearly not.”
“You deserve your punishment.”
“Yes, but so does everybody, including those who believe.”
“True.”
“So they are in because they interpreted the data differently?”
“Yes”
“Lucky them.”

We have at the bottom of our little garden a wooden shed. It sits nestled between two gigantic oak trees that whilst charming at first are the bane of my life, killing the lawn, pummelling us with summer acorns, drowning us with autumn leaves, scaring us with winter tendril shadows on the walls. The shed has two little windows: narrow, condemning eyes that look at me every time I go to the kitchen to get a beer. My tools are in there and should be used to embark on some fabulous DIY activities – this would please my wife no end – but I know my limits, and DIY can be a dangerous affair for someone with limits. So it sits there, alone, angry, wasted, while I sit here typing, sipping a beer and failing yet again to be erudite. And to use up all six sentences.

I am mostly mad. It has always been like this, usually starting as a slight knot in my gut, then a spreading irritation, till it fills my whole body with red flame and I explode.

My family and friends are used to this and don’t seem to mind my frequent anger outbursts, but when I meet new people I like to warn them: “Hi, I’m Andy Wokswizme, and I am mostly mad” – that way there are no surprises later on and new relationships in general have worked out well.

So imagine my consternation and outrage when I introduced myself thus at Heathrow passport control, and instead of letting me enter the UK and take a well deserved rest at the Holiday Inn, the British immigration officer looked at me queerly and pressed a red button calling men in white coats to take me away to a padded cell.

Its quite a nice padded cell, actually, and I love how the nearly 30256 squares interlock so neatly, forming pretty patterns that help me to sleep, that is when the voices let me. I like the voices, and I think the like me, probably because I was careful to tell them up front that I am mostly mad.

She lay on the grassy, daisy smitten carpet staring at the endless sky above, not sure if the hue was blue or azure. The clouds wafted by, playing tag with each other, wondering where the wind would be taking them today, but not too fussed either way. The sun hung in self-centered, emblazoned glory, quite bored, shining hopefully on the little girl below, looking for a little appreciation. She basked in the rays, oblivious to the fragile neediness above, dreaming of castles in the sky, princes on white stallions, love.
A mother hedgehog snuffled by, lifting its nose in danger sensitive expectation, but carried on nonetheless.

Time slowed, then paused to capture the scene forever in the immortal full stop.

A stranger was seated next to a little girl on the airplane when the stranger turned to her and said, ‘Let’s talk. I’ve heard that flights go quicker if you
strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger.’

The little girl, who had just opened her book, closed it slowly and said to the stranger, ‘What would you like to talk about?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said the stranger. ‘How about nuclear power?’ and he smiles.

OK, ‘ she said. ‘That could be an interesting topic. But let me ask you a question first. A horse, a cow,and a deer all eat the same stuff – grass – . Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cow turns out a flat patty, and a horse produces clumps of dried grass. Why do you suppose that is?’

The stranger, visibly surprised by the little girl’s intelligence, thinks about it and says, ‘Hmmm, I have no idea..’

To which the little girl replies, ‘Do you really feel qualified to discuss nuclear power when you don’t know shit?

When you’ve been married for as long as I have, you learn that some discussions are best avoided. For example, if asked do you like this dress, you never say “No”, even if you hate it. You avoid answering this dangerous question by saying something like “I liked the other one more.”

Now as for gifts, us husbands and dads very often get things like coffee mugs emblazoned with phrases like “World’s Greatest Dad” or “Hot Stuff”, or ties, or useless gizmos for the office, and even though the gifts are not quite what we would have liked, we smile and thank our loved ones graciously. They love us and we love them, and this is how it works.

So it was was my birthday, and as expected I got some chocolates and a mug, but I also got an air hockey table!? At first I thought, superb!! But then I thought, where’s the dining room table?

Then I asked, “Where’s the dining room table?”
She said, “Its outside.”
“In the snow?” I asked incredulously.
“Yep,” she replied as if I was asking a stupidly obvious question.
“But its snowing!”
“We don’t want the table anymore.”
“We don’t?”
“No, we’ll eat off the air hockey table. I’ll buy matching chairs. Its time to modernise our decor.”

So what would you have done?

I threw a wobbly and my wife and I have not been talking for days. I violated my cardinal staying married rule, but sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.