Serialization of the WACKY MISADVENTURES of WARBLE McGORKLE - CHAPTER 12 (of 70)
Warble Expounds on Southern Mythory (Mythology + History)
CHAPTER 12
Warble Expounds on Southern Mythory (Mythology + History)
“Calm down, neighbor, calm down,” H.R. admonishes. “Nobody said anything about war. My friend here was simply asking me who the 29th President of the United States was, and I--”
“Ah, phooey,” H.R.'s neighbor interjects, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “President of the U-nited States my chicken-fried Sycamore! President of the Yankee States, maybe! Jefferson Davis is my president, don'tcha know, and Robert E. Lee my Vice.”
With that, the disappointed man leaves, dragging his saber and musket on the ground behind him in a manner strikingly reminiscent of a cave man, club in hand, returning home from an unsuccessful wife- or mastadon-hunting expedition.
After the McGorkles have been escorted into the Brooks' parlor, Warble congratulates his old workmate on his quick thinking. "Nice one, H.R.! Beautiful, in fact! You haven't lost it; nosirree, Bob, you certainly haven't lost it. Just as smooth as ever!”
“Don’t mention it, old salt. Tell me, though: why all the intrigue?”
Warble explains to H.R. all about the plots and schemes to wrest his world-beating inventions from him and how he needs to 'lie low' for awhile, and asks if he can 'hole up' with H.R. and his family for a spell.
“Any time, pard; any time. Mi casa es tu casa.”
“Err…Thanks, H.R. Uh,…Thanks,” Warble replies, a look of confusion clouding his face.
H.R. explains that his wife isn't home from shopping yet (she went to the SuperMall), and retreats into the kitchen to grab some liquid refreshments for his guests.
As soon as H.R. is out of earshot, Warble turns to Mary and says, "Did you hear that, Miss Mary?"
“Hear what, Colonel? About the SuperMall?”
“No, before that; H.R. was speaking Latin--the language of priests, lawyers, and other crooks. He said 'Me costa, two costa,' which means, when translated, 'If it costs me, it will cost you.' The nerve of that guy!”
“Oh, Colonel, dear, I'm sure it was all a joke. You said H.R. didn't have a serious bone in his body.”
“Hmmm. Yes, you're right, Miss Mary; it must have been meant in jest. An old shipmate would never do that to a friend.”
“By the way, Warble, why was H.R.'s neighbor getting so excited about car rental agencies and dog food?”
“What in tarnation are you talking about, Miss Mary? Are you feeling all right? Were you out in the sun too long?”
“Don't give me that line, Colonel. You heard him talk about Alamo, too; I know you did! He said 'the South's gonna rise and shine, and don't forget the Alamo' or something like that.”
“Oh, that! Don't you know anything about Southern mythory, Miss Mary?”
“Mythory? What's mythory?”
“What's mythory? What's mythory, you so ignorantly ask? Why, the South would be nothing without its mythory. It's a real mythory--I mean mystery--that you don't even know the term, Miss Mary! Shameful! Absolutely shameful.”
Warble makes a sound with his tongue on the roof of his mouth that is supposed to be shame-inducing.
“Oh, come off it, Colonel," Mary says, tapping her foot impatiently. "What is mythory, then, if you're so smart?”
“As everybody knows, Miss Mary, mythory is the combination of mythology and history that defines the South. For example, H.R.'s friendly neighborhood neighbor, over there--old what's-his-face--mentioned two chief elements of Southern mythory: The South rising again, and the Alamo.
“True dyed-in-the-wool, way-down-yonder-in-the-land-of-cotton types believe that the Blue Ridge Mountains are going to get taller as the Rockies recede in elevation. Eventually the South will be taller, elevation-wise, than the North. They will then build forts on every mountain ridge, where they can look down on and monitor everything the Yankees do.”
“Why don't they just move to the Bronx and buy a season ticket?” Mary inquires skeptically.
“Miss Mary, you're drifting on me here! Come on--concentrate! Focus! You'll never learn anything if you don't pay attention to me. Ready?”
Warble fixes Mary with an intense and challenging look. Mary simply stares back at Warble, arms crossed, right foot beating time on the parquet floor to the rhythm of her heart.
“Now,” Warble proceeds, “the Alamo is a hard-shelled animal that lives in the Texas desert. If not for the Alamos, the early Texicans would have starved to death. No surviving Texicans, no Texas. No Texas, no South. So, the Alamo is the official animal of the South.
“Incidentally or coincidentally--whichever you prefer--the Alamo's unique protective skin layers were the inspiration for a certain type of automobile tire,” Warble smiles smugly, proud of his almost limitless knowledge of things both arcane and obscure.
“Priceless, Colonel; simply priceless,” H.R. says as he returns to the room, lemonades in hand. He had taken the words right out of Mary's mouth.
The McGorkles, without even having given it any advance thought, have 'planned' their trip to Looz-e-anna perfectly: H.R. happens to have just returned home from a long voyage as Captain of the merchant vessel Freedom of the Seas and will be, for a full month, a man of leisure.
At first, the days pass pleasantly. The two couples pay a visit to the French Quarter, where Warble expounds and expands on:
1) The history of Dixieland Jazz: “It was inspired by the sound that the crickets, bullfrogs, and manatees make in the swamps at night. Satchmo Armstrong lived there, along with his best friend Satchel Paige, and converted the sounds of the swamp to bugle noises -- Satchmo had been a bugler in the War Between the States, you know.”
2) Bourbon Street: “The locals got up in arms about a tax on whiskey that the British were imposing and whacked the bungholes out of all the barrels of Bourbon the Brits had ported up the hill to the top of the street. They wouldn't have minded being taxed after drinking the bourbon; it was being taxed prior to drinking it that got their dander up. Their battle cry of freedom was ‘No taxation without intoxication!’
“Spurred on by this snappy slogan, rivers of the golden fluid were wasted, soaking the wooden sidewalks, which thereafter warped into a curlicue shape, somewhat akin to the look of cuticles that have never been trimmed.”
3) The French Quarter itself: “The original French Quarter was a twenty-five cent piece commissioned by Madame Bovary of and for Napoleon. On the 'heads' side Mr. Bonaparte is depicted eating a bowl of the ice-cream flavor named after him, and on the 'tails' side he is applying Desenex to the up-until-then-incurable itch he had just below his left nipple.”
Warble is explaining to Mary about the great New Orleans hero Marty Graw, for whom the residents of the city hold a large soccer match each year--to wit, how Mr. Graw was a pitcher for the Philadelphia Phillies when they won the World Series, and how he made New Orleans famous by singing When the Saints Go Marching In under his breath while beating out time with his mitt on his thigh as he walked off the mound to the dugout after each successful inning/outing -- when a policeman knocks at the door.
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the Wacky Misadventures of Warble McGorkle is being serialized daily here on substack during the summer of 2021 (late June to early September).
NOTE: The second volume is the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle; the third volume, now available on Kindle Vella)
is Warble McGorkle’s Delusional Visions of Paradise.
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