Chapter Twenty-Four

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The Three Gentlemen of Wobbly Means

The Three Gentlemen (two of whom where impeccably dressed, unlike the third who was very much tied up with gummybands, and with a scarlet-dyed gorgonzola protruding from his forehead) approached the table under which Daff Maud Bunkum was sleeping and came to an abrupt halt.

“We shall stand as close to her as we possibly can, and even closer,” proclaimed the largest and roundest of the three in sepulchre tones.

“All the better to loooom over the creature,” said the second largest, bending so low over the sleeping damselfly (for that is what she was) that his nose (and it was a very long one, practically as long as a barn) detached itself and crawled into her left ear.

“Do you think we might eat her?” asked the third largest gentleman.

“Oh, no no no no no,” boomed the first, obvious a leader among men and a true intellectual. “That would never do. We are, lest you forget, but figments of her dream…”

“A very BORING dream, if I may say so,” interrupted the second largest irritably.

“That may well be the case, by dear Bumpy, but it is nonetheless a dream and we are trapped within it. If we choose to dine on her (and I agree she is very tantalising indeed) we shall cease to exist, and then our little children shall become waifs and strays, and our beloved wives shall meet fates worth than death…” said the Humpy, known by all and sundry as The First Gentleman, letting his explanation fade away into a desolate silence. A pause followed, during which neither of his companions could think of anything to say, after which he continued. “Perhaps,” he suggested, “we might try nibbling her shoes and see what happens. Shoes, as you well know, are often inanimate. If that is the case with hers (which appear to be quite new and fragrant) then it is doubtful they joined in with the dream…”

“Of course they wouldn’t,” screamed the second gentleman, whose face had turned unnecessarily purple and whose ears seemed to be whistling like steam engines. “THE DREAM IS BORING!”

“If you would permit me to finish, you will see that I am in complete agreement with you,” said the first gentleman somewhat indulgently. “The dream is indeed unspeakably boring, which, considering the dreamer is the most boring person on earth, is hardly surprising. If the three of us do not wish to become thrice as boring as she, it is up to us to perform several wildly exciting and interesting feats.”

“Well, Humpy, I did suggest looming, but I was interrupted,” answered the second gentleman unkindly.

“We could all don scarlet gorgonzolas such as mine,” interjected the smallest of the three, who had up until then remained silent, “and undertake an hour or so of Morris Dancing, which is, as you well know, not only extremely wild and exciting, but is of great historical interest, as well.”

“Do be quiet Scrumpy,” huffed the second largest gentleman, “the last time we attempted Morris Dancing in a dream, we nearly gave the dreamer a bilious attack. It was most unfortunate and we all agreed never to try it again.”

“That wasn’t my fault. Besides I’ve been practicing ever so hard and don’t fall down nearly as often,” sulked the third largest gentleman. “In any case, the dreamer had eaten a large quantity of stewed prunes directly before bed. You can’t blame me for that!”

“Can so,” yelled the second largest gentleman.

“Cannot!”

“Can if I want to!”

“No you can’t”

“Wormy wormy, fat ‘n’ squirmy. I can do anything I want to and you can’t stop me! Nya nya nya nya, nose full of bad stuff!” taunted the second largest gentleman in his most elegant accents.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, do be quiet, both of you!” boomed the largest gentleman. “I’m trying to think! The situation is most complicated. Please go over there,” he added, pointed to Daff Maud Bunkum’s head, “and sit down quietly (like two obedient children) on that round protuberance. If you are very good, uncle Bumpy will give you beebleberry jelly for tea.”

The two other gentlemen immediately assumed the postured of toy wooden soldiers and marched quickstep over to Daff Maud’s head. They sat down and took out a very large book from the yellow canvas bag they had been carrying between them, and proceeded to read in a loud though strangely modulated voice:

§THE STORY OF ELMONDE ANDA CLOTILDA§
By The Two Of Us With Really Annoying Corrections by Bumpy

“Once upon a time, when the world was new and clean and nothing bad had been invented, a young boy by the name of Elmonde lived in a small cottage by The Fens” (“You know perfectly well it was nowhere near the fens. It was a bog mile to the west of Beachy Head,” corrected Bumpy). “He was a gentle young man who possessed the most beautiful manners and prepossessing nature anyone had ever seen” (“That is rubbish and you know it. He had no neighbours. He never saw anybody. It is extremely easy to be mannerly when you are not constantly irritated by a gathering of twits from dawn ‘til dusk!” boomed Bumpy, more exasperated than ever). “More than anything else in the world Elmonde loved medlar jelly and clotted cream. He loved it so much, in fact, that the day he was born he pledged his first-born son to the sea if only he could sup on his favourite repast every day of his life” (“You are telling the story all wrong,” reprimanded Bumpy very loudly. “I was there, and so were you, so don’t tell tales out of school!”). “One day, when he was nine or ten” (“Twelve, you nincompoop!”) “or twelve and had finished more of his breakfast than usual due to cook having prepared bloater with custard sauce rather than the usual boiled onion surprise, Elmonde dressed in his most useful waxed coat and purple boots, the ones kept by the kitchen door for walks in the garden” (“You know perfectly well they hadn’t any garden to speak of!” screamed Bumpy in a weary tone of voice. “They lived in a sewing box next to the thimbles.”). “He loved his little walks, he loved them very much. Nanny always accompanied him, holding on to his little hand as tightly as possible” (“Which was why her arm eventually fell off and she lost it”) so he would not lose his way when they ventured into the forbidden maze” (“Forbidden maze? It was the carrot patch, you idiot. DO try and get it right!”). “On this particular day they stumbled across a stuffed chicken walking about trying to find its spectacles” (“Its HAT. It was trying to find its hat.”). “Elmonde skipped over to it, which was ever such an impossible thing to do given that he was dragging Nanny’s arm bump-bump-bumpity behind him. He bowed very low to the chicken and introduced himself. ‘My name is Elmonde,’ he said politely, ‘and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance!’” (“You forgot the Nanny,” roared Bumpy. “You always forget the Nanny, and her story is far more interesting than that of stupid Elmonde, who was after all nothing but an earwig!”), whereupon the third largest man slammed the book shut with a bang, provoking a horrible cloud of dust which set everyone to coughing furiously. “Will you stop interrupting me?”, he demanded. “In any case, it doesn’t really matter if I read the story correctly or not.!” “Yes it does,” replied his larger and slightly better dressed gentleman, “every time you make a mistake your clothes fade away”).

“Have you noticed,” said the largest gentleman, who up until now had kept silent, though not from manners but for fear that his mother, an infamous harridan, would beat him senseless with a rampant heraldic device, “how utterly blameless this person appears in the autumnal light?” He was, of course, pointing to daff Maud Bunkum with the large sponge he had been using to scrub the passing grains of dust until they sparked and twinkled like sunbeams. “She lies there, curled up under a tastefully tatty cardigan, with a beatific smile on her face and not a care under her bonnet. I should like very much to take her home and put her in a drawer. And if that is not a suitable end to the affair, I should remind you that she makes quite a delightful, though nobbly, cushion.”

“On no account will you do anything whatsoever with her,” humphed the third largest gentleman, “until I have finished reading my story!”

“I personally think,” boomed the largest and most self-important of the three, “we should eat her for lunch. Bumpy, in your capacity as ‘carrier of the tapeworm’ will you please be so kind as to measure her carefully from top to bottom. She is somewhat peevishly small and I fear there are not a sufficient number of tender bits on her. She must be divided into three unequal portions (it goes without saying, the grandest and most succulent organs have been fattened especially with me in mind, while the lesser, grittier tougher slices are for Bumpy, with the scrag end of gristle going to Scrumpy and his anciently, widowed mother). If this is not possible we shall have no option but to go to war. BUMPY!” he bellowed at the second largest gentleman, causing him to jump so high his teeth fell out, “have you drawn up your battle plans.”

“Mrffump miffh,” replied the second best gentleman, replacing his teeth.

“Excellent!” boomed Humpy. “We shall meet at dawn upon this person’s person. I,” he trumpeted, pointing at a small antimacassar cassock growing on what amounted to Daff Maud Bunkum’s modestly tiny bosom bumps, “shall place my cannon there on that modestly tiny hillock.”

“And I shall position my elephant on this hill,” declaimed Bumpy, indicating Daff Maud Bunkum’s pleasantly round stomach, thwacking it so hard she let out a snort.

“And where shall I position my pony and cart?” asked Scrumpy in a soft and hesitant voice.

“Yooooou?” bellowed Humpy, in several simultaneous tones, suggesting haughteur and ennui, “I suggest you not bother to come at all,” adding, “The two of us have taken the only suitable vantage points. Besides, when last I looked your pony had run quite away. That was, I believe, in the penultimate dream but two and he hasn’t come back since.”

“He might have,” sobbed the third largest of the three gentlemen with a great wheeze, “if you hadn’t eaten all my barley sugar.”

The second largest gentleman, who was feeling distinctly peevish and wanted to adjourn for tea and cucumber sandwiches, changed the subject ever so slightly. “Might Scrumpy not procure the medals for the victory ceremony, and perhaps bake the crumpets and treacle for the banquet?”

“With pink sugar sprinkled over the fairy cakes?” beamed the third largest gentleman from inside Daff Maud Bunkum’s pocket, in which he had sought refuge from the swarm of caddis flies he suspected might be arriving through the door at any minute.

“If it make you any less grumpy, I shall be only too happy to agreed,” said The largest gentleman of the three, his voice sounding extremely reasonable and wise beyond his ears.

At that precise moment, there was a mighty earthquake and the three gentlemen were thrown into the air and disappeared without trace.

Copyright 2007 JA Weeks