SERIALIZATION OF “the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle” – Chapter 39 of 61
Warble Prepares First for Outsourcing Work to Illegal Aliens and then for Departure to Custer’s Last Stand
CHAPTER 39
Warble Prepares First for Outsourcing Work to Illegal Aliens and then for Departure to Custer’s Last Stand
Note: The actual replacing of the date palms with the fig trees takes seven months, but the work is pretty routine (read: boring), and so we will now 'fast-forward' to when the long and tedious job has been completed:
“Well, that was not necessarily my idea of out-and-out fun,” Warble says, looking warningly at his personal fitness trainer, “but at least we interspersed the monotony with an occasional date or fig fight—which, naturally, I always won.”
Jacques is standing disconsolately to the side, eyes cast down and shaking his head from side to side, his pants pockets turned inside-out.
“These trees will not always bear fruit,” Warble addresses the gathered throng (he told them to huddle up or search for employment elsewhere and be stranded in time and space), “Butt, we have other things to do. We can't keep coming back here, replacing trees. We'll outsource the maintenance work to some down-in-the-mouth and desperate immigrants. We'll have the trees periodically replaced, with the no-longer-fresh figs from the old and worn-out trees made into Fig Newtons (named after their inventor, Isaac, who was quite handy in the kitchen, being, as he was, on close terms with egg beaters and measuring cups, and also being no stranger to the mixing bowl).”
“Sir,” Ward says, meaning that Warble should preface his invocation of Isaac Newton's name with the great scientist's title.
“Yes?” Warble responds, thinking Ward is finally learning to show him proper deference.
Ward quickly restrains an almost uncontrollable urge to kick Warble in the kneecap.
Instead, he changes the subject: “So, where to know, Warble?”
“Onward! Forward! March! To the Arodnap!” Warble orders. “Fall in, men...and you, too, Mary and Marianne—we don't discriminate based on gender here, you know!”
“Sound off!” Warble bellows.
“MAR-y,” Mary responds, in a distinct two syllables with a decided emphasis on the first, setting the pattern for the rest, as taught and demanded by Warble.
“Sound off!” Warble bleats again.
“MARI-anne.”
“Sound off!”
“COM-fy.”
“Sound off!”
“JACQUES-L,” the fitness instructor responds, coming out of the doldrums.
“Sound off!”
“WARD-Robe.”
“Sound off!”
“AL-bert.”
“Sound off!”
“MUL-lah.”
“Sound off!”
“BARK! Bark!” (that was Taterskin, by the way).
In step now, the eight two-leggers and the lone four-legger march in time to the Arodnap, and then march in place while awaiting Warble to take his seat first.
Taking his time as he is enjoying the moment so much, Warble begins to wax poetic, having gotten carried away in the martial verve of the moment, and, full of vim and vigor, indirectly informs his passengers as to what they can expect next:
“Fiddle sticks
Pick up sticks
Where will we
end up next?
Eighteen and seventy-six”
Swaying side to side in time with the catchy rhythm of his tone-poem, Warble cavalierly steps into the pilot's seat and pulls up the globe on the GPS/CPS, rapidly rubbing his middle finger and thumb together in a move calculated to capture everyone's attention and provoke eager anticipation.
Warble continues his improvised sing-song poem, knowing that he does have his captive audience's undivided, if not entirely voluntary, attention:
“Horse, Horse
Crazy Horse
Bull, Bull
Sitting Bull
Grass, Grass
Greasy Grass
Big, Horn
Little Bighorn
Stand, Stand
Custer's Last Stand
Will now end up quite different-LEE!
If you don't believe me, just wait and SEE!”
“And I thought John Cage's 'Watergate' composition was dreadful,” Ward grumbles. “I'd gladly listen to that eighteen minutes of silence any day over Warble's pitiful caterwauling.”
Warble completely ignores the discouraging words, spins the globe to America, brings up Montana, and then Bighorn County, and locks the location with a press of a button.
Following that, he enters the date June 25th, 1876, locks that, and away they fly.
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Blackbird Crow Raven’s “the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle” is being serialized in this space each Sunday and Thursday; it is also available in its entirety from here.
You can listen to the recording of this excerpt, by the author’s alter ego, here: