SERIALIZATION OF “the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle” – Chapter 1 of 61
CHAPTER 1
One morning, Warble feels the nascent onset of an epiphany—or is it the three boxes of Pop Tarts(™) he had for breakfast? (only his proctologist knows for sure).
“Mary, a man can only wear so many clothes, live in so many houses, eat so much food, and drive so many cars.”
“Finally, Warble!” Mary says, thinking her husband is willing at last to downsize his personal fleet of automobiles to just a couple, or maybe three. “It will be great to convert our 30-car garage into a nice guest house, so when my mother comes to visit...”
“Hold on there a minute, Mary!” Warble says, holding his palm forward in a defensive gesture. “You’re always jumping to conclusions. I didn’t say I was going to get rid of all of my cars. It’s just that I’ve come to the realization that a man doesn’t need a different car for every day of the month. I figure seven cars, after all--one for each day of the week--would do me almost as well. And that will allow me to fire one of my mechanics, saving us a fortune.”
“You call minimum wage a fortune?” Mary asks, shocked.
“Most definitely, Mary!” Warble confirms. “It is a fortune to Juan. He can feed half his village in Old Mexico for what I pay him. And it’s not like I’m obligated to pay him that much—what’s he going to do if I pay him less, turn me in?”
“You should at least pay him the going wage for mechanics, Warble.”
“Mary, my hands are clean, my conscience is clear, and I sleep considerably better than your average, run-of-the-mill baby at night,” Warble says, in a self-satisfied tone. “I didn’t know Juan was an illegal alien when I hired him.”
“You didn’t?”
“No! He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask him.”
“But you know now,” Mary prods, trying to awaken Warble’s dormant conscience.
Warble claps his hands over his ears. “I know nuh-think! I know nuh-think!”
“Sure you don’t, Sergeant Schultz,” Mary says, crossing her arms and turning away.
“I think you’ve got your cartoon characters mixed up, Mary,” Warble says, removing his hands from over his ears. “I’ve heard of Sargent Shriver, and I knew Charles Schultz (the renowned inventor of peanuts) personally, but this Sargent Schultz character you invoke is, I’m afraid, a figment of your addled cranium.”
“Forget it, Warble,” Mary sighs.
“Forget what?” Warble asks, deadpan.
“Thank you,” Mary says.
“You’re welcome,” Warble responds, absent-mindedly (even more absent-mindedly than normal, that is). Warble looks out the window, with a wizened gaze blanketing his visage.
Or so he thinks, anyway.
“Mary,” he finally says, “I’ve come to a decision. I’ve realized who I really am, what I want to do—what I must do.”
“Oh, no,” Mary involuntarily says, expecting the worst (although she has no idea what it is Warble might decide to do, having given up trying to figure out her husband and his wacky whims years ago).
“Oh, yes, Mary!” Warble says. “I’m going to become a philanthropist!”
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^
Blackbird Crow Raven’s “the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle” is being serialized in this space each Thursday; it is also available in its entirety from here.
You can listen to the recording of this excerpt, by the author, here: