Chapter Twenty-Seven

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The Big Three

Libbedy Spider awoke with a start to find a great round muddy face examining her ever so closely, but before she could question it about its purpose in life, it narrowed it’s eyes (which were a speckled yellowish blue) and spoke.

“And who har yoo,” it asked in a reasonably pleasant voice (given the circumstances), “and whwat har yoo made of, and” it added severely, “whwy did you come there?”

Libbedy Spider would have liked very much to sit up and address The Mudmonster politely, but since it was leaning over her and hovered only a few inches from her face it was hardly practicable. “My name is Libbedy Spider,” she replied from her prone position, “and this is the lovely new home I have built for my mother and sisters and brothers.”

“Yoo hev not answurd me,” he scolded in retort, a tear glowing in his left eye. “I asked who yoo were, not whwat yoo wur callt.”

“You asked many other things as well,” she responded. “In fact, if I am correct, you asked far to many questions for anyone to possibly remember on a Tuesday.”

“Is this a TOOSDAY?” asked The Mud Monster, surprised, suddenly dropping his accent. “I must have forgotten to set my watch. What day is it?”

Libbedy thought for a moment and then brightened. “I know! It’s Wednesday. I remember because the sun came up from the south! He always visits his old mother Tuesday nights for tea and stays the night singing the old songs and dancing pointless folk dances. She lives in the south, you see…”

The Mud Monster looked at her carefully and examined her hair, which she’d dyed bright purple and red for the occasion. “Why,” he asked, “is you hair such a strange colour? Have you been ill?”

“No, silly billy, it’s because I’m intent on becoming a rock star!”

“Just like Oinka The Pig?” he asked, but then quickly remembered what he was about and changed the subject. “Will you please be so good as to remind me of Wednesday’s questions? I prepared so very hard for Tuesday that my head is quite full.”

“I know what you mean,” giggled Libbedy (though very sympathetically). “I once revised for twelve exams in a single week and I didn’t have any more room in my brain for a month of Sundays!”

“Ah,” he sighed, “Life can be so terribly vexing! However, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Which one?”

“Why, more of them than meets the eye,” replied The Mud Monster. “All of Tuesday’s (for I cannot progress to Wednesday until Tuesday’s curiosity has been satisfied) and anything else you can think of.”

“Erm…” muttered the little spiderling, “Erm hmmm…”

“Please,” interjected The Mud Monster, “do not pester me about specific questions and do not ‘erm’ me to death. The mud has slipped into my ears and quite unnerved my follicles.”

“I meant to ask about that,” said Tiny Libbedy, “only I didn’t want to appear rude.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right,” said The Mud Monster, fanning himself frantically with a huge amber and gold feather boa and breathing heavily. “One never cares one way or t’other, not if one craves personal happiness. In any event, one really can’t ‘appear’ rude, can one”?

“At least one shouldn’t, not unless one wants to be sent to bed without raspberry jelly.”

But The Mud Monster seemed not to notice Tiny Libbedy’s interjection and continued with his thought. “It is, of course, possible to appear neat and tidy or covered in treacle, and I’ve known some (which I won’t name but the worst offender is daff Maud Bunkum) to appear with their clothes inside out, whereas Mrs. Ridglet-Grassworm usually appears in Sea Green Tweed twin sets. Baroness Winitraudl Dragon-ffleugan is said to appear dithery, but that is incorrect. She may actually BE afflicted with a dithersome temperment, but since she is invisible, she cannot be said to appear at all. And along the same lines, Mrs. Dafarge cannot appear to be a tiresome bore. She IS a tiresome bore, but when one sees her on the street (which, by the way, is not a good idea, because if she sees you back she is liable to approach you) she appears to be an elegantly clad preying mantis with a fine set of legs and five strands of pearls. So, to cut a long story short, you can either BE rude or NOT be rude, or even (if you are clever enough) both at the same time, but you cannot appear to be rude.”

“Is there a reason for all this?” asked rumpus Libbedy in a sensible, ‘I shall one day be a schoolmarm’ voice. “Why on earth did you wander into my lovely new home, wake me from the best nap I’ve had in ages, and start asking ridiculous questions?”

“Oh dear,” responded The Mud Monster, “I was hoping you would tell me.”

At that moment, a great crashing and banging was heard from the lane. The two of them quite forgot about their own quandary and rushed to the window.

“Oh dear,” they gasped in unison. “It’s Peveral Murkin and he’s tumbled over his feet and into a bin bag. What on earth is he up to?”

And sure enough, just below the pink and gold bedroom window and in the middle of the pretty bohereen, was Peveral Murkin, all knotted into a bundle of feet and legs and arms and stuffed into a black bin bag all tied up with string.

“HHELLPPP!” he cried, and then again, “HHELLPP!”

“What izz thet?” asked the Mud Monster, looking out of the window and reverting to his beloved foreign origins. “Iz is efter eetinggus?”

“Don’t be silly,” laughed Rumpus Libbedy. “I already told you who and what it is! His name is Peveral Murkin and he’s got himself trapped in a very large black bin bag.” Whereupon she threw open the window even further and leaned out as far as she could. “YOO HOO,” she called, “A very good morning to you, Mr. Peveral Murkin”

Peveral Murkin immediately stopped struggling and sniffed, obviously very relieved (if not a little suspicious. One just wasn’t rescued at a drop of a hat without regretting it later). “Libbedy Spider? Is that you?”

“Only if it is you, Mr. Peveral Murkin,” she said matter of factly. “As you must know, I was brought up never to converse with strangers.”

“Oh, what a delightful day this is,” sang Mr. Peveral Murkin, “which just goes to show how very mistaken I was!”

“In what way, Mr. Peveral Murkin?” inquired Tiny Libbedy.

“Why, in thinking this was the worst of all possible days,” he replied in a hopeful tone.

“How’s thet?” interjected The Mud Monster, forgetting he had not been properly introduced.

“Well,” continued Peveral Murkin, apparently not noticing, “it’s like this. Only this morning I went, together with my good friends Ermentrude Pinkley and Daff Maud Bunkum, to the lending library, and after finding very little in the way of useful information we adjourned to Miss Begonia Throttle’s Tea Cosy for a fulsome repast. I regret to say I drank rather too much tea, which led to my excusing myself.”

“Whwot,” interrupted The Mud Monster, “Yew got ha smell bledder?”

“NO,” retorted Peveral Murkin, “I have no such thing, and kindly refrain from interrupting. I did not mention it before, but we have not been introduced.

“AARRGGHH!” screamed Rumpus Libbedy. “Stop it, stop it, stop it this very instant! This strange person is my new friend and I will not have someone in a bin bag speaking to him in a rude fashion!”

“Well, I never!” responded Peveral Murkin, slightly affronted. “You know very well, young lady, it is quite impossible to speak with anyone with whom you have not been properly introduced. It simply will not do! And,” he added with a sniff, “you must learn to mind your manners! Whatever will your sweet, angelic mother think?”

The three fell into an awkward silence, broken only by The Mud Monster cracking open an enormous Brazil nut and munching on its shell.

Libbedy Spider looked this way and that and at her new shoes (which happened to be bright red and shinier than a bucket of shiny things) and came to a decision. “I shall arrange for him to call on you in the morning and leave a visiting card in your hall.”

There was another silence (this one neither heavy nor filled with ominous undertones), followed by a rustling and scuffling within the bag.

“If he promises to do that first thing tomorrow,” offered Peveral Murkin, “say between half past nine and ten o’clock, I shall be amenable. To that end, I have already re-set my watch accordingly and scribbled a memorandum to myself in my diary. Officially, this person to whom I have not yet been introduced, is no longer standing in a window peering down at me. He is, instead, sitting in a comfortable chair at what SEEMS to be the same window, but which in fact won’t exist until TOMORROW. Am I making sense?”

Libbedy Spiderling was by now extremely confused and on the verge of an impatient outburst somewhere along the lines of “you are a sanctimonious old poop.” It was the sort of thing she most certainly would have done before the dreadful occurrence of Owld Misther Bucket’s bottom leak, but maturity (and with it, a certain sensibility) had come upon her in the interim, and so she took the more diplomatic route. In other words, she quickly changed the subject.

“Pray tell, Mr. Peveral Murkin, was your visit to the lending library on urgent business?” she asked.

“Oh yes, Miss Libbedy,” he answered, suddenly quite excited. “and this is the most amazing coincidence. It was about you, my dear. You see, you were swept away in a torrent, and I, along with my good friends Ermentrude Pinkly and daff Maud Bunkum, went to that noble edifice in search of information regarding past floods and the destinations to which their passengers were bound. We were in the middle of browsing holiday brochures when acute hunger attacked us, and you know the rest.”

There was the sound of succulent chewing and slurping from within the bin bag, after which he sighed heavily and continued. “So you see,” he added miserably, “we never did find anything useful. And now I am trapped in this bin bag with only one chocolate bar and I’ve misplaced my friends, as well.”

“Perhaps,” sang The Mud Monster, brightening considerably, “if I may be so bold…”

“Which you may, seeing as how we shall be formally introduced tomorrow morning,” interjected Peveral Murkin.

“May I suggest we three join forces?” sang The Mud Monster. “You are in search of your friends, Miss Libbedy Spider is longing to bring her lovely mother and brothers and sisters to the new home she built, and I, who was also cruelly separated from my darling mommy when I was but a mewling infant, yearn to be reunited with her. She must now be so ancient, I fear… I fear…” Where upon The Mud Monster broke down and sobbed very loudly.

“Oh, you poor poor thing,” said Libbedy Spider and Peveral Murkin at one and the same time. “How tragic life is!”

And so it was, after further discussion, that Tiny Rumpus Libbedy Spider and Mr. Peveral Murkin and The Mud Monster (who still had not really been properly introduced, at least not so you’d notice) joined forces and set out to right the world’s wrongs and find their loved ones.

“Now that we have joined forces,” ventured The Mud Monster before they adjourned for tea at Begonia Throttle’s Tea Cosy, “sha’n’t we call ourselves something heroic?”

“Absolutely,” trumpeted the other two. “We shall call ourselves The Big Three!”