Slipping Into Oblivion

"I ate my dinner. Would it be a great inconvenience to comb your hair?"

"No. In fact, it would be a great pleasure. Please, come sit beside me. Oh yes, you have such strong hands; your grip on the brush and the pressure upon my top is divine indeed!"

"Haha, Oh Grandma, your tongue is so wild, like a sweet melon being sloshed of its innards."

"I only hope you don't comb with such vigor that you remove my scalp and crush my skull compartment into pieces. But I suppose my brain could use a good brushing."

"Grandma, would you like me to comb your back?"

"If you insist sweet child. What a precious gift you are! That's it, keep combing, all the way down to the tail my dear. Say, wouldn't it be fetching to give my teeth a good cleaning? I haven't made way to a dentist in some time."

"Do they give you pain or suffering Grandma?"

"No child, but they are rather discolored. What if I privy a night out on the old town?"

"Grandma! At your age, I would harp that you do no such thing."

"Ah, but what a hot time it would be. What if my prince were waiting on steed, sword in hand, waiting to carry me away?"

"What if?"

"Well, he would see my teeth and keep right on going, that would be the deed that transpires."

"What about Grandpapa. Have you no respect for what he would anticipate?"

"Little one, he passed away decades ago. My vows are still true, as true as that great horned owl that swooped out of the sky like an albatross upon a salmon in the headwaters. He was an engrossing man, virile, and uncomplex to the point of tedium. His death was inexplicably macabre. But, in the by and by, he would have embraced me moving on."

"How can you be so sure Grandma Rat?"

"He was uncomplex like I say, but also a downright sourpuss. He languished in swimming the waters of melancholy and ambiguity. Yes, it was as if he had called that great owl to zero in on him as he stood there, in open view, dead of night. I told him to come in from the storm, 'come in Paulsy' I said. 'The night is ripe with reapers and you have a glassy-eyed target on your face.' I suppose I dozed off into slumber, for when I awoke and rose to the window all I saw was Paulsy, with his body plucked clean from his head, which was all that remained. The only thing more torturous was my movement to his body, drowning in tears, I crossed the tree hole and over the swallows' sticks and as I came close enough to look into his wide blue eyes, a sparrow flew down and picked his head up and departed into the twilight."

"How awful, Grandma!"

"Yes, but the worst and most distressing was still to come. A winter fell soon after, and I had made a fire in the tree base to warm my bones. The chimney, you see, was not operating to par and I feared the whole tree would burn alive. So, I got bundled up and made my way into the thick of it, climbing up the tree, brushing off the snow and braving the brash wind as I went."

"What happened next, Grandma?"

"Well child, I made it to the chimney and found some foolish rodent had nested a stockade of acorns and trash in a crevice in the branch restricting my ventilation. I jammed and I jabbed until my situation was resolved. In the process, a deathcloud of smoke shot for freedom into the direction of my face, sending me into hysterics and consequently causing me to fall, or slide rather, down the tree."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes, but you see, something, or someone caught me. I landed right on my arse, in a nest--an abandoned sparrow's nest to be more exacting. Now, it was winter, and of course there was no sparrow to be seen, but there were two eyes, one lonely face, and no body in its place."

"It couldn't have been Grandpapa!"

"I'm afraid it was. Half skull, half fur-skinned, unused and pleasantly unbothered. There he was. I sat there as long as I could, becoming frostbitten under the snow's weight. Finally, I went over to him, brushed the icy earth away from his head and kissed his lips. And I swear to you, little child, they were as warm and suffocating as the smoke still filling my lungs."

"So, you just left him up there?"

"Yes, I did. Paulsy loved the outdoors. He loved being planted up in the trees, catching a high from the morning breeze and making no gripes about bird droppings or cricket carousing. Of course, he loved the winter most of all, winter is a dejected man's stomping grounds you must understand."

"Wow, what a delightfully upsetting tale Grandma. I can't believe Grandpapa had such a tragic come-to."

"He did. But time is nothing more than a Shepard's hook, guiding us closer to the flock and farther from the fires."

"So, if there is a message in this for me Grandma, what might it be?"

"I would say, sweet Fern, you should appreciate those blessed romances you will kill or let near kill you. You see, no matter how hard you try to make something that seems so right, correct, or someone as uninformed as possible to your overpowering mental leakings, some may always and forever be twisted into pieces inside like a knotty pine tree, or like your Grandpa Paulsy. But they still have merit and should nay be easily given up on and thrown to the great landfill beyond the reaches of the sky."

"It's hard letting someone you cherish and adore go sometimes, isn't it Grandma?"

"Yes, it is child. It truly is."

"Now Grandma, about those teeth. Let's take a look. Say Ahh..."

"Ahhhh..."

"Grandma, what an awful collection of bugs and baby sparrow's egg juice you have stuck in here. I'll have to get the big teething brush for this occupation!"

"Be gentle, my dear, be gentle."

Count E'Clair

There was a toad who went by the name of Count E'Clair

He had a sword in sheath that was sharp to bear

No more pointed than his tongue when it came to be drawn
Pleas of compassion for this toad were never clipped too long

Such a quick-tempered wit and fixation for despair

No one, you see, ever crossed paths with Count E'Clair.

In the forest of Green Suite came word through the smokestack trees

whispering on dead branches spitting out wilt disease

That a frog or a tad had the gumption to proclaim
That the count was a fraud and a rouge and a drain

The Count, resting on his self-imposed detraction
Stated to all he wanted the culprit of this much mis-stated reaction

"Who is it that wouldst say such a braggart thing?"
"I am 'The Count', 'The Executioner of Killers', I am 'The King'!"

"Whoever mocks me shall in the stocks be--no, no, that is too kind,"
"Instead a knife prick in the face, in the heart, and the center of the center of the eyes."

"You there, Froggy, do share, who do you believe this goon to be?"

"Me sir? The cur I know not sir, maybe your countess, yes, ask her, sir."

"Ah, my countess you say? Yes, bring her to me, or I'll have you Fricasseed!"

Eventually, the Countess came forth, her name was The IV
Not in lineage, but in the precedent of wife, of course

Number one was a mistake, she kept the Count awake
her incessant snoring cost her the use of her nose

Number two was a shrew, red-headed, olive-skinned, it's true
Oh, this poor one, was in dire need of a clue
A messy bed she kept, along with the red nest on her head
The fine for her deplorable lack of a comb? Death--Death--Death!

Now number three, if it were up to me, well, let's just say she was murder.
Not the kind that you kill, but you sign away your will
Even if the sum was a button less than a nickel.

Her name was Loretta and she put up a fair case
the legs, the gills, the glowing, wart-filled face
She was caught, or rather heard, and how she did crow
under the weight of one cock-strong toad

Her fate was quite horrible, into a pot she did boil
And served to some visiting French diplomats.

Now here we are, The fourth Mrs. E'Clair
She was a little more homely and little less rare

But she did for the Count, what the others could not tackle
She spent her hours in the bedroom, to the bedpost she was shackled

No more complications, or so thought the King
Until, a girl with no movement or motive to cling

Is left to eat only things filled with syrup and creme.

Yes, she was of great girth, so to bring her before the king, meant, broadsiding the earth
But, here we are, "What say you, my love? Who is the spawn that spat on my royal glove?"

"I know not Countie, my pot-bellied sweet, now let me return to my chain, I'm famished, let's
eat!"

"You bucket of flabby flesh, what a disturbing mess, but you just don't seem to understand..."
"My honor has been put in a stranglehold and someone must pay, I demand!"

"Froggy, take away the Mrs., roll her back in the wheelbarrow, I need rest."

And so, through the rabbit holes and fox burrows

The trail of slicing and swarming verbiage crept

The King's sleep was not pleasant, for only in nightmares he wept
In a flash of slimy sweat, the King shot out of bed, out of his long johns, soaking and wet

"I can't let this pass, one can never be so crass, I will seek vengeance, this is my sole task!"

At once and then some, Froggy wrapped on the door

"What is it you need? Try knocking some more!"

"But sir, it is Froggy I have news to tell, the guilty party is flying right off of its rails."

"What's this you say? Spit it out you frog, Cut out your bumbling or I'll sail your skull in the
bog"

"Sir, My count, I have to say, the troublemaker is not a frog, a minnow or an egg."
"I just heard, from a polar bear-like bird, that the Stink Beetle of San Alter dropped these biting words."

"Oh, the Beetle? and how would a bird know? Was it flying through a cloud full of dung-covered snow?"

"Why, no, you see, as it's come to me, the hawk was around dining on Pill Worms in the trees."

"Go on!"

"Well, the trick of the trap that the bird said was laid, was that he was going to eat the Beetle, until it did spray..."

"Spray what?"

"Stink, of course. And while the Beetle was slow to make any getaway, he told the bird he was unstoppable by any bird, frog or prey."

"I see, I see, yes, this all comes together like a fine Cabernet with my evening fly supper. The Beetle is devious, dubious, and soon enough an endangered and expired sapsucker."

"But Count, here's the problem, yes, the problem at hand."
"The Beetle laughed at your highness, then disappeared in the sand."

"In the sand? Where to? Where would he go, he just disbanded?"

"No, not exactly, it's believed he's traveling to the center of the planet."

"What? How can this be? Why would one travel to the bottoms of the seas?"

"I think he is going to be with his brethren, inside of the earth, where all the insects inhabit."

"It is supposedly worse than Hell in that abysmal cavern, with the wizard of wasps in control of all lowly maggots."

"So, I say Count, what is it that we shall do?"

"To the Center of the Earth! Froggy, send for the crew."