Friday, May 16, 2003

vignette: what we do do

"But," said the Stickman, "we still have no idea where we are or where we are to go!"

"True, true," agreed the Whirling Lobster, waving his remaining claw. Deep in his clockwork eyes the tiny crack widened just a smidgen - but being blind to his own flaws he, of course, did not notice. "I suppose we just have to make do with what we do do."

"Well, then." the Hippogriff said, clearing her throat. "What we do do or do not do will simply have to do for now. It is certainly better than doing nothing at all. Too much of that and the world just passes you by. I should know." And she did, remembering for a moment the tragic circumstances of her melancholy captivity and the endless days and nights she spent looking outside from the inside of a cage.

"But," said the Stickman, "what ARE we to do?" He was raring to move.

His two companions looked at each other, then at him.

"We go where wings can take us," stated the Hippogriff.

"But I have no wings!" protested the Stickman.

"I have enough for all of us," replied the Hippogriff.

"But somethings are perhaps not meant to fly!" the Stickman said, aghast at the notion of leaving the ground.

"I promise to hold you and not let you fall," offered the Whirling Lobster. "My good claw, after all, is the one the Knave of Spades left me with. You will not fall."

"Besides," the Hippogriff told the Stickman, "even if you do fall, we can always pick you up. You do remember what the Little Girl used to say - 'sticks is sticks'."

"They most certainly are not!" roared the Stickman, shocked that anyone remembered the cruel words of the petulant Princess.

"Careful, careful," said the Whirling Lobster. "The last thing we need is for you to catch fire."

"All I'm saying is that if you do fall, we can pick you up, no harm, no foul. And that's all I have to say on the matter. If I've hurt you, do keep in mind that the words I spoke are not my own but someone else's and it is her phraseology that makes it painful." With that, the Hippogriff padded away, head high, stretching her wings.

"All right," muttered the Stickman, "all right."


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