Tje
Awfully
Silly
Stories
of
Sim
&
Jam
Sim and Jam Become Tam and Tuco
As if coming from far-away and another time, Sim said aloud from her green chair, “I’m going to change my name to Tam. It is more like that I am.”
Standing on the stairs Jam said, “I’m going to change my name to Tuco. I’m convinced it’s only my mind that’s loco.”
So, this is the story of Tam and Tuco, two people in love, living downtown, quite unlike the Sim and Jam of Uptown, even though the people are ditto. We may see Sim and Jam play with makeup occasionally for Tam and Tuco are playful and never serious. And, as most of the time, the level of ambivalence makes the conversion forgetful because of their name’s conversation.
There’s no promise of never saying this again, but here they are, the exotic names of Tuco and Tam, nay Sim & Jam.
Going Towards 13th and La Salle: To Chiattias
When the two strolled on the road the moon cried and hid in the clouds. They whistled a tune that sounded catchy in the dark. With glasses in their pockets, their eyes were misty. They were happy walking hand in hand in their bare feet and sailor pants.
Jagged rocks lined the road-sides and alley ways as their smooth skinned feet touched on the oily pavement. Unexpected, their whistling pitched high as they stepped off.
“Is it you or I that’s moved in harm’s way?” asked Tuco.
“We both have, but who’s feet hurt the most?” cried Tam.
“Your whistle’s crying louder than mine,” said Tuco as he sat on the curb rubbing the pebbles off his feet.
“Then you move back toward me,” she hollered.
“But I can’t!” For Tuco’s feet were stuck underneath him.
“Then lean with me, not against me,” pleads Tam.
They touched the oily pavement together and whistled in tandem to their amazement. The moon still hid, but the clouds floated showing the skyscrapers on the streets. So, Tam and Tuco stayed lovers that kept joining hands but no secrets.
“I’m hungry.”
“And so, you should be.”
“Let’s clean off our feet,”
“I’ll do yours.”
“I’ll do yours.”
They sat down and cleaned each foot, then stirred their torsos and waists. With full deployment they stood and went over to Chiattias.
“Dinner’s on me,” Tam said as she swung her hand.
Tam and Tuco Meet Bart de Beep:
“On the main, my pile of tarts,” sez Bart de Beep, looking at the stars, “is where you see the darting hearts. Stuck like flies in the cold morning frost.” His eyes casually wandered around sitting on the curb. “Ya, even in the moonless nights.”
Tam and Tuco (nay, Sim and Jam) danced away from the curb toward Chiattias, their hearts tucked inside their pockets. They heard Bart as he beeped but no thoughts of his words between them bounced.
“On the main,” sez Bart de Beep. He shuffled next to the two on the road, eyes darting beneath his long-haired brow. “Eh, you sez to each, you’re not hearing me?”
He stood soldierly still.
“Fir in well, I’ll come between you two.” He beeped as he moved between the two whistlers. His head bent and his knees closed as he patty walked unhappily away.
“A delightful tune,” Sim yelped at Jam, hearing Bart’s jingly steps fade away.
“I’m not singing, but it’s fun to blow,” peeped Jam.
The couple danced away feeling good for each other. No one would become between them. And no person named Bart would come near their dinner table at Chiattias neither.
Dinner with No Beans
Wasn’t it obvious to Tam and Tuco? The maître ‘d called them Sim and Jam. Wasn’t it obvious as they sat down by the window that the rain had stopped, the thunder calmed down?
“I can’t wait for a bowl of beans,” purred Jam.
“White, with lots of garlic? Please say yes,” sighed Sim.
“Yes, to you. More garlic is so good for your pores.”
“Then it’s settled beans with fish and salad,” he said.
“Right to do. Just a little of the small white herb.”
“No. We have rice and pasta, but no beans,” answered the Italian waiter.
“With garlic?” squirmed Jam, wet from perspiration.
“Whole cloves mushed right in, if you like. Salad?” asked the waiter as he wrote to the chef the magical words.
“Mayonnaise for me, but on the side, with the lettuce.”
“She’s new to Italian restaurants,” spoke Jam with authority.
Out of the corner of their dark eyes, They spotted Bart de Beep, window streaking. “Along-side of ye,” sez Bart as he passed their pane.
Bart’s antics were enough to start them whistling.
“Ahem. I’ll place your orders.” The waiter bowed and left.
“It’s time to drink and eat to happy bellies,” sang Jam.
“To our insides that work like engines,” declared Sim.
Glasses in hand, crumbs on laps, sauce on chins, they toasted their adversary, their friend, and their spy, Bart.
Alas, he stayed outside in the wet air, his home in the dark. Casting his eyes away from Bart, Jam looked around for the waiter but was nowhere in sight.
“You know that whiskered man, Bart de Beep?”
“He’s your friend that makes him mine.”
Tje
Continuing
Silly
Stories
of
Sim
&
Jam
Sim and Jam and Africa
One day they found a dog, although made in a small size. A tiny yellowish dog stood in front of their place. It was so young it was almost bleached white.
“Notice he doesn’t bark,” chided Sim.
“Nor move much. We should feed him,” replied Jam.
So, they acquired the dog which reminded them of a furry coat from Africa, being so wild and remote.
Their dog, Africa, laid long in front of the blue couch, his front legs hidden under his chest. The thin brown nose leaned off the rug, touching the worn-out wooden floor.
“He’s so obedient and respectful,” said Jam.
“I fed him this morning. I think he’s content,” frowned Sim, wondering if he’ll ever bark. “Maybe he lost his bark when he came to us.”
Bart Meets Africa and Offers Advice
“On the main, my sight of perfect zoom,” sez Bart de Beep looking at the thin moon. “It’s where you see the tart of hearts. Striking like crickets, chirping in the dark.”
The crickets sang with their legs, the wispy moon beamed soundlessly, drifting to earth.
“Could it be,” Bart mumbled, “there is a new friend?”
As he sat on the side of the road, talking to no-one, seeing Sim and Jam, Tam & Tuco, walking, dust sweeping by them. A new short friend walked between them.
Bart de Beep understood there was a new friendship since the three walked so closely and in unison. He stopped thinking thoughts of the heart and moon and had stirring feelings about his friends and so he gathered sticks.
“What’s new?” he said with a frown and smile at the same time. His whiskers moved up and down hiding the lopsided disorganized smile. Laying his hand on a sturdy stick he acted with no cares on his side or with his crooked teeth.
“Meet Africa,” replied Sim stopping at the curb.
“He’s our new wild and quiet dog,” sang Jam waving.
“It would be wonderful if Africa knew how close and friend-like I am to you two. Make sure he lets me continue with our friendship. Okay?” slurped Bart.
Africa wanted to bark for he also sensed joy between them. Now, there were more friends in his life in one day then in his whole previous life of sorrow.
Simply they all smiled.
The world was perfect in their way of sharing.
A Name for a Cat
“Minouch? Come here Minouch. Here kitty, kitty,” cried Sim softly as she sat in the front of her home. The wooden porch’s flower baskets at each corner were colorful as a rainbow.
Africa looked up from his laying place in front of the blue but faded couch.
“No Minouch here,” she pleaded with her hazel eyes.
Africa’s eyes looked sad as he put his head down again. His eyes closed with his front feet as in prayer.
“I need a cat,” Sim sighed to the open book on her lap. “I need a fuzzy, furry, nice cat that likes dogs.” She expected Africa, who was in the house on the blue but faded couch to agree with her.
Jam heard all of this from the kitchen as he stared into the fridge. He wondered aloud, “Minouch? What name is that?”
“A special name must be our new cat’s name,” came Sim from the wooden porch painted battleship grey.
“We’ll set out milk for her then,” replied Jam. Not finding what he wanted in the fluorescence light he shuttered the white metal door. He walked to the battleship grey porch with a semi-filled bowl in hand.
Even though it wasn’t stated, they both knew Africa would drink probably it.
Minouch, the Seal Point
A thin white cat was thinking about shelter. She was looking for a place to call home. Abandoned by her old keepers, they dropped her out of their car, plopped into a gutter. She was hungry and tired of wandering so much she couldn’t remember her home and couldn’t remember her name. She could remember the car and the dry hands that put her in the gutter. Well young but hurt by the late night, she slipped effortlessly -but hesitantly- between the shadows and ferns.
The light from Sim and Jam’s porch signaled her like a beacon. And the bowl of room temperature milk -untouched because Africa didn’t like milk- signaled their desire for her company.
After several minutes to survey the ground and accept her protected discovery -the way cats take one step and stand like a statue- the young seal point approached the small bowl ready to claim their -Sim and Jam’s- intentions and invitations. She felt at home. She lapped the milk. She heard the young lady say her new name in short pronunciations from the grayish porch. She smelled Africa but was not afraid of the silent dog for he was not wild like she had become.
He was just strange and remote and not like a cat.
A Sister, An Outing
Tuco, nay, Jam, had a sister, Pam. She was a splendid girl, even though a little younger. Wasn’t her fault she stayed youthful to Jam’s older looks. It was in her blood to make his life a little sweeter. She threw rocks into the river, jumped into honeysuckle vines, and hung from gnarly olive trees. She even walked in cow pastures through the warm steamy pies.
The rest of the people in the world lived in the big cities and sought out clean air, or so she believed.
Pam breathed healthy scrubbed air that made her feel different and had fewer cares. She skipped rocks in the stream as flat as days when the sun stays high.
Days last very long if you have no serious thoughts, she once wrote in an afternoon filled with silly wants and oughts. Her favorite want was for the sun to be held high above for several days. Why not?
This has many advantages if you’re not interested in conquering more than an appetite or finding a stick, she wrote.
Sister on the Range
Pam gave up many things, but not fun. She bought a ranch when young when she was dreaming of the outdoors.
The land cost her soul, but nature gave it back to her after years of near-perfection that filled her with fun and joy. She didn’t holler over the swap -money for dirt- because it was on her terms.
Down by the stream, near the wild olive trees, she walked among the cool shadows. A toad with green and brown aging marks crawled among the high grasses and croaked as her baby held tightly on her back.
“That reminds me of my good-looking brother,” Pam dreamed as she watched the mother and child hop along the grasses. Pam’s fondness was re-kindled in her heart. “I’ll take a trip to the city to hug him and his lover. But, in a little while when the weather changes. I need to satisfy my bubbling interest in my brother.”
So, Pam on her vegetarian terms premeditated a trip to see Jam in the big city.
Bart de Beep and Minouch Pair Up
“I like this furry animal,” sez Bart, tears sputtering. He gently bowed down and touched Minouch. She purred and leaned into Bart’s large, hairy hands.
“She could bite,” smiled Jam, looking up from Pam’s letter. “But there is no such thing in her heart, by the Beep. No, she has serious eyes, elegant whiskers and soft paws,”
As he held little Minouch Bart choked up, shaking with joy.
Sim could not see any jealousy in these two opposites.
Africa licked Sim’s bare leg, as if to show his allegiance.
Smiling at the inevitable cute pets, Bart de Beep felt as if friend and family among Sim and Jam.
“I believe Minouch wants to be here for a time,” said Jam holding up Pam’s letter. “My vegan sister wants to live among us and our animal friends, Africa and Minouch for a short period. This letter makes my day sunny and blue. My sister Pam wrote this from her ranch. Could we have another visitor, even with this full house?”
So, Pam’s arrival and visit was discussed and cataloged among the company of Sim, Jam, Bart, Africa and Minouch. They sat and talked on their porch and then at the curb of their street all day long waiting for the sibling visitor.
Minouch and the Last Flies of Fall
It had been cold for several mornings. A white-wash film spread on the grass. The new smell of the phoenix rising furnace left everyone breathing funny that night, even Minouch. Like most cats, Minouch liked to wander, chasing flies and bugs and pretending to attack lifting fluff in the air, then her pounce. Slowly the coldness of Fall settled on the city and house where Sim, Jam, Africa and Minouch lived.
It was not unusual for Minouch to sleep on top of the Mitsubishi hood that Sim owned. Small paw prints on the hood left her evidence. But the coldness started to affect even Minouch in ways that made her forget things from year to year. So, this was one of the times of confusion.
Whirling slowly in front of a surprised Minouch was the fattest fly she had seen in Jam’s house. It was slow and graceful, like the day’s beginning. It was noisy and predictable as Tuco in the bathroom.
A quick turn of Minouch’s paw brought the fly down. A sweet bite by Minouch’s jaw satisfied her bubbling tummy. Why was it easier to catch flies in the fall, she thought?
But the misty fluff found in the air currents next to the window made Minouch quickly forget as Jam set out her cup of milk. Much is made of Fall. Most of it was silly, thought Minouch as she stretched against Jam’s leg out of kindness and devotion.
Tje
Ever
Continuing
Silly
Stories
of
Sim
&
Jam
Tuco, nay, Jam, had a sister, Pam
Isn’t it wonderful when people stay with each other? Isn’t it just the best thing that could happen when relatives lovingly come together for each other? This is what Pam and Jam thought as they signaled each other on the road. This emerged from their hearts as they talked and walked inside and outside of the home, along with their family, Sim, Minouch, Africa and of course Bart de Beep camping on their grayish porch.
“How long has it been between us?” asked Jam
“It’s been on my calendar very long,” said Pam. They continued to talk in sentimental strings of words that danced and echoed richly on their hearts’ contents.
Sim leaned into the door. “It’s so good to see you, so trim and fit.”
“Only the highest regard, dear in-law,” cooed Pam.
Bart sat at the door stoop into the porch, combing Africa.
Minouch slinked by his side and purred.
Those three whiskered varmints jittered away in the fading sunlight as the damp fall evening enveloped the house.
“Oh brother, oh brother, let’s sit and get caught up.”
“We’re together. By your smile I know all that is important.
“Oh brother…” Pam sighed, sounding as if Sim’s sigh.
“Let’s sit down and have a coffee, maybe some desert before dinner.”
“Smiles are given for our love. Being together is for our comfort. Talking is joining together our memories.” During their long dinner of talking more than eating, the candles were lit.
“Good night,” said Sim softly, as the marathon ended. “Get Bart to the porch and settled the animals in when you’re ready for sleep.”
As she headed to bed, she kissed both of their cheeks.
The Twin Princesses Story
“This,” sez Bart de Beep, rubbing his whiskers, “is the story of two young ladies who happened to be royalty in a far-away country where two of a kind was considered magic.” Opening the book, Bart pushed away his black chin whiskers to see the pictures as well as the words. “Do you want me to read this wonderful tale?” he said looking with hopeful eyes at Africa and Minouch sitting at his feet on the carpet.
Standing in the doorway to the kitchen was Pam smiling. Pam, nay, Sego Lily, aroused by Bart’s fondness for animals and reading did not enter the room, but lingered as the large man spoke of princesses and twins, of lands far away and lives untouched by sadness and therefore unused.
Bart had the luxury of not knowing she was Sego Lily. That made Pam feel invisible as she stood at the doorway.
“This story is by Sego Lily, my favorite writer in the world,” he continued. “I’d love to meet her one day.”
Africa sat up quickly and Minouch tumbled backwards by his abruptness, for they knew who Sego Lily was, standing at the door. They had animal instinct that told them so.
“Oh, yes, you are excited, aren’t you, by the Bart de Beep you are,” he chuckled. “Listen to the book of the Two Pity Sisters’ Day:
“This is a story of two twins, from the land of Pity.
They were not-so-happy Princesses of Pity City,
For all day long they wanted more than they had,
But isn’t that an impossible request?
Maybe too hard for their brains to endure.
It was a sadness that made their father,
Terry the Pit felt uncomfortable at best
With their desires and purchases.
Couldn’t they just be princesses?
“I grew up on the wrong side of the city,”
Said the younger Princess by sixteen seconds.
“Should I continue?” Bart burped. “Excuse my slop.”
“Oh, please do,” responded Pam, nay Sego Lily, in love with his handling of her words.
Startled that someone else was in the room, Bart dropped the book. “You are something special that can be next to Bart and he not know. But you are welcomed.”
“Sorry. So very sorry. I was moved by your words, your expressions. Please.” She gestured to the book on the floor as Africa sniffing the dog-eared pages. Sego Lily scratched her forehead to hide the glint of goading on her lips.
“Maybe I need a glass of water first,” said Bart, his face turning red. “I’ll be back.” Poor Bart de Beep fled to the porch where the air was cool.
The animals and Sego Lily grinned at his awkwardness.
“He has such a kind animal heart,” demurred Sego Lily as she petted Africa, then Minouch.
The Twin Princesses and Sego Lily
“This,” sez Bart de Beep, rubbing his whiskers, “is a story I enjoy so much. But maybe you would like to read?” He turned the book upright from the floor. Patting it gently, smoothing out the many-time-turned pages, Bart felt a joyful pain in his chest as he talked to Pam.
“Your voice brings the story to life. I don’t have the same features,” recounted Pam, nay Sego Lily. “We all enjoy it so much. Please continue,” she said, seeing the animals approved. She handed the book to Bart.
Feeling a second tumble of warmth in his head, and yet a disconcerted pain in his chest he agreed. “On the main, my pile of tarts with wonderful looks,” sez Bart de Beep, looking at the well-read book, “I’ll continue for the most wonderful ladies in the world.” He cleared his throat. “Ahem.”
“When two young girls are in a royal family, both can be Princesses but cannot be Queen. They grow up believing all that they see. They can be ladies-in-waiting, available for the royal scene. They can be wonderful or terrible people. So, what is it that makes them special?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, sister,” flummoxed Bart as he stared at the words. He was afraid to turn the page and see the answer even though he has read it many times.
“Doesn’t it say so in the next of words?” asked Pam.
“Maybe he’s too close to the book,” said Jam.
“I’m no bird,” said Bart, meaning that he was not absurd.
Pam, ne Sego Lilly, laughed, “That’s it. The princesses want to be something they are not. I am only guessing as how would I possible know?”
But we know Jam knows she is the author, the writer of the book. He doesn’t want to be cruel to Bart de Beep, so he keeps silent to the unknown reader.
“Oh,” sighed Bart.
“Ah,” whistled Jam feeling safe once again.
“So, it is,” hesitated Bart.
“You are wise beyond a bird’s lifetime,” sang Jam.
Then Bart blurted, “What could I be but myself?”
“Only Princesses can think so majestically,” smiled Pam. “Please don’t keep us in the dark with the two princesses who will glow with happiness. I promise.”
Pam, the Reader
Pam, nay, Sego Lily, walked around the house, enjoying the freedom of being away from her ranch, but also missed the luxury of knowing where everything was.
Now, where would they keep the butter? And the jam? Will I find a knife today? Sego Lily thought. She had worked up an appetite, enough for two meals. Learning about the house and the secret hiding places was today her adventure. When she found the books on the shelf above the couch where Minouch, Africa and of course Bart de Beep slept, she knew where the wealth was, along with crumbs and empty glasses.
“I’ll read to you if you like,” she said to no one and every-one. “From your favorite author, Eugene Tumble.”
“No!” they shouted from the couch, with a rumble. “Sego Lily, Sego Lily! Nothing else will be spun.” This made all the animals and Bart round up to the pressure.
“Okay,” Sego relented, feeling humbled. “Okay, you have won my heart.” Picking up the book, she pretended to start at the first page, but really had the book upside down. “Ahem,” she uttered, knowing the words from her heart since they were hers.
“This is the story of the Princesses from Pity City, A palace that had no great people, but many happy ones.”
“Someone should tell her,” said Bart to Africa, who licked him. Minouch tried to sit in Sego’s lap as she read from her memory. Africa bounced from the couch and into Pam’s lap.
“You tell her,” Bart whispered to Jam covering his mouth.
“You went shopping without me,” cried the Princess of the West.
“You didn’t want to be with me and, well, I had no excuse,” the Princess of the East said.
“Look here. I’ve bought Jamaican brown pants, Caribbean blue shoes, St. John’s olive dress and a Puerto Rican white blouse.”
“Ahem,” said Bart, pointing at the upside-down book.
“Do you want to read?” asked Sego.
“Err, no,” replied Bart, sitting down, petting Minouch. Then he stood and waved his body as if on a seaward boat.
“So,” Sego started again, “Been to the seas, have we?”
“Yes, yes!” sang Bart, enjoying the tale, but confused with the upside-down reading. He composed himself again and sat.
“Bark!” said Africa, because Bart sat on his tail.
Sego Lily laughed at the animal’s interruption, then continued where she left off.
Bart’s Interpretation
This was next day’s book time. Holding the book softly yet strongly, Bart de Beep scanned the words and images of the page.
“Ah, the wonderful world of words,” he sighed.
“Read to us,” begged Pam, feeling warmly happy to turn the book over to Bart.
“Let me read to you about their love, but not with hugs,” replied Bart as he touched the title of this story. “It’s called Cousins, but it’s still about princesses I believe by the Beep.”
“I kissed her on one cheek whispering, “hello cousin.”
Sliding my face to the other side I put my cheek next to hers, but our lips did not touch skin. Returning to her first cheek, pursing lips was our sign of the curse. (Yes, in many European countries they kiss thrice.) Rocking her head backwards Princess Pity of the West laughed amidst her tears and words. “Good to see you my favorite cousin.” She was raised to show only her best.
Bart sniffled as he touched the page. “Such true love,” he said, his eyes filled with tears. “To touch a Princess’ cheek. Ah! The words fill my imaginary precious world!”
“But Bart,” replied Pam, being a little pest, “it would be impossible for you to know her skin with your furry beard.”
“Ah, but maybe you are only half right,” he sighed. “So, maybe it is that I can only imagine. Then I can have the feeling of anything.”
Africa and Minouch sat next to Pam, tongues hanging out, looking at the floor, not sure what they were talking about.
Pity Sisters Two
Bart was not one to read aloud. With Pam in the room, now he felt released from his tongue-tied jail. It was part of his breathing that minimized his story telling. So, he tried breathing slowly:
“Some of my best moments are in my dreams,
When they are sad and feel like broken strings.
I like to roll the broken strings up into a ball for a toss,
Then awaken me up from the sleep and go for a walk.”
Setting the book on his hairy knee, he had to ask, “Why? Would anyone talk in such a funny way?” He sadly looked at the book of the Two Pity Sisters’ Day. “It’s not so sad or unusual for a writer to hide the meaning.”
“Is it cute? Along with all the scheming?” giggled Tuco.
“Have you ever thought,” asked Tam, “what would rhyme with Tuco?”
“Would you have a different name than Tam?” he asked.
“Wait.” spoke up Pam, as she scratched the back of Minouch. “I only know you as Sim and Jam.” She stopped her touching, ignoring Bart’s confused face. “Who are these people that you talk about, Tam and Tuco?”
“For me,” Bart de Beep squeaked from back of the couch. “They change names like day changes to night.”
The friendly dog, Africa, laid on his large stomach. Leaning into Bart’s fuzzy beard feeling like silk to the quiet animal.
Continued Bart, “I remember trying to spy on them. Then they told me their names as plan as a bowl of milk.”
“It’s more like that I am,” replied the shy and quiet Tuco.
“We feel better about these names,” said Tam in ditto.
“But making names up?” queried Pam. “Why?”
Realizing what they had been reading, with no wicked alibi, she blushed and gulped being a word temptress. She looked through the window to the sky and surrendered.
“Well, I do it too. Maybe we like to think of ourselves as something else than what we are.”
Asked Bart, “Who is Sim and Jam?” But he quickly answered himself as Africa wagged his tail in his chin. “Never mind. I remember now. Continue.”
Dreams of Two
“I’d love to live in Pity City,” said Bart de Beep lazily. The sun warmed up the porch making everyone feel at ease and without thought as Sego Lily finished one of her chapters.
“Oh, you wouldn’t. Not for very long,” spoke Pam sharply changing the mood. “It is not real. It is only intoxicating.”
“But the people, their stories, their words are enchanting!”
“Never-the-less…”
“Gee, shucks.”
“Right.”
“But…” Bart pulled at his fuzzy beard.
“You can only visit Pity City. You can’t live there.”
Bart felt his hurting heart not understanding her stare.
“It’s like these animals, cute but not nice for you to change places.”
“Ah,” Bart’s cheeks did not feel so hot on his face. His black and white whiskers danced, hiding his smile. “You may be correct. I know, in fact you are right,” smiled Bart. “But it is such a wonderful place to live and love, by far.”
Pam responded, “Do you think Sego Lily lives there? Do you think Sego created these people out of thin air?”
“Ah,” squirmed Bart. “You have a point, by de Beep.”
Smiled Pam. “Sego doesn’t live on any of their stars.”
“Gee, shucks.”
“Right, and,” Pam added, “she writes of dreams which are never real.”
“Oh!” blurted Bart, understanding. “I know you know Sego Lily. You are telling me she is a she!”
Pam’s face started to feel warm and hot not because of the sun. “Only in my dreams have I met her, if she really is a she.” Picking up Africa, she cuddled him to her face to hide her reddish throat.
It was quiet in the house, as Tam and Tuco were working in another building, leaving early that morning.
Pam thought Sego Lily was finally put in her gilded cage.
Bart-de-beep thought dark thoughts as in a blind rage. Confusion was his weakest feeling and he dreaded the results. “I’d feel better if I could just have some scrambled eggs.”
Pam surmised, “The way to your stomach is your head.”
“Ohm…” Bart muttered as he twisted at his beard.
“Just so…” Pam said with her eyes closed. “I am a great egg maker. Show me where they keep the chicken product and I’ll make you happy again.”
Journey Planner
If there was one thing these kindred folk loved to do was travel. On the bus to the subway they traveled. From the train to the airplane they then flew above down-trodden valleys and dark-blue undulating oceans. Their planned routes were indirect to take in as many sites as possible. And when they strolled during the night-time on British roads the moon cried and hid in the clouds in very wet small London town.
Tam handed everyone a ticket. “For The Tube ride.”
“On the main, my pile of tarts,” sez Bart de Beep, looking down the steep stairs, “I see the escalator of my heart. Music strikes me like angels in the cold morning.” His eyes casually wandered as he stood unsteadily on The Tube’s platform. “Yes, even in the sightless flight of walking I see them.”
For untold minutes, the fidgety yet tired threesome stood. Waiting to board the underground train in London, they heard busker music and worried what Bart was seeing.
“What do we call this other land?” asked Tuco as they walked from the airport to the underground called The Tube.
“By the main ye say, Other Land. Why? Is it a new name or made up?” rationalized Bart de beep as he saw rats scurry along the rails where the trains hunkered on.
Tam helped unbutton Bart’s coat around his whiskery neck for the train car was warm. “It’s a made-up name. It used to be Great Britain. Now it is just a place on the map of the world. It is just Britain,” he said, yawning. Tired, oh so tired, they plopped down and slept in the train car to London.
“We made it. The UK. England,” bellowed Tam into the windy tiled corridor coming out of The Tube station. It was a blustery day as clouds skimmed by quickly. “We in America started as colonies of this country. It is not the same country now. This is the Other Land as I call it.”
Holding his coat tight against his hairy body, Bart de Beep struggled to say anything nice. “It is still very cold, very cold.”
The Other Land
By the Marble Arch, under an umbrella, Bart de Beep spied the sign, Lancaster Gate and Oxford Circus on the Central line as they explored the Other Land.
“I pretend I’m the Shepherd’s Bush, hiding in Ladbroke Grove. We can move to the Royal Oak on the Metropolitan line that fills Stamford Brook,” chuckled Bart walking from Earl’s Court, feeling Britishly smart but still very cold.
“What would the Pity Princesses say if they saw these signs?” asked Sego Lily, nay Pam, as she stepped onto the street known above the District Line.
“Why,” spoke Bart quickly, but not too wisely, “Money is the root that flourishes the roses. We will visit Victoria, St. James’s Park, Sloan Square, Westminster, and Black Friars on the Circle. Ah. Talking makes me spring my eyes open.”
Tuco loved the country’s wetness as he splashed onto the street. “I would be in quarantine if we had brought Africa and Minouch. Two weeks, or six, depending on the animal size I read. Maybe we shall send a postcard to your lovely sister, Pam, thanking her for watching our animal friends.”
But Pam is with us, thought Bart de Beep as he scattered looked around the kindred folk.
It’s amazing what money can hide in, thought Sego Lily as she examined the well-maintained cobblestone road.
“Hi, ho. What do we see in this window?” asked Tam pointing at Pam’s, nay, Sego Lily’s books in the window of a used-bookstore.
“Oh, precious books,” cried out Bart as he dashed inside.
“How did she travel so far, I wonder.”
Turning to Tam and Tuco, Pam nervously shook.
“Now what?”
The End Of
The Adventures
For Now
Do not forget you’re human. It’s okay to have a meltdown, just don’t unpack and live there. Cry it out and then refocus on where you are headed.