Once upon a place, there was a time where everything was kind of just slightly off a bit. This story is about that time, though where the time took place still remains unknown’d. If you know the place, then don’t tell anyone, otherwise I would have to rewrite this. And do you know how expensive the reprint would be? Neither do I. By the way, my name is Dr. Flim Flummery. What is your name? Oh my, what a lovely name! Is that your hat? Oh my, what a lovely hat! May I wear it? Thank you! There. Now, don’t I look handsome? Oh! But your hair is a mess now. Here, take my looking glass and my beard-comb. No, no, no. Don’t hold it like that. Turn it round, shiny side faceward. See? Now you can see yourself, go ahead and comb! Tsk, wait, no. The teeth should be pointing toward your head. Much better! So, what brings you here? Wait, before you answer, I should tell this story. Wait right there. I’ll be right back, OK? I promise I will. I will not be far. Just right over there. I will be RIGHT back. Please believe that. I wouldn’t NOT come back. That’s just not like me. Ask anyone. And I have your hat, remember?
Now, so there I was, and I was in the best of moods (lavender). And then I said something right away (which is the best way to say something)(and (by the way) aren’t parenthesis grand! Now, do keep up).
"Rhubarb my good man. Absolute rhubarb!" That's what I said to the man with the rhubarb pie. And he agreed with me. It was a flummerous day, which was appropriate, since it was flummerous every day (which always makes me hungry for some reason). But I do not agree with rhubarb, no matter how much it tries to convince me. "I say..." I said. My acscencer (accessory-announcer) took his pose and declared: "He says!" "I say...good day!" And then I was off. But not until I had knocked that rhubarb pie out of that man's hands. What must be done, must be done. And I must always do it (before anyone else does). And so must I rid the land of it's rhubarbary - so far as the moon is from Miami (not YOURami, mind you). "Well, that was the last of the rhubarb." Said my one-armed, right-handed, no-nonsense, left-hand man. "Quite true, well done doctor, well done." Said my abdominous, ambitexterous, alacritous, adjutant (ahem). "Quite." I said. "Quite!" announced my acscencer.
"Quiet!" commanded the Quieter.
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And we hushed ourselves.
And then we hushed our sleeves (we wore loud shirts) .
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But not before the Sun beclared: "Bid me farewell my little friends! For I am about to set!" I looked to the Quieter for assurance that he would let me unquiet myself to respond to the sun, who was slowly (and inelegantly) being pushed down by the Night. "You may speak." spoke the Quieter (softly). "May I unquiet myself?" I asked poquietly. “You may and you have. So there need not be anymore action on your part or mine!" quoth the quieter.”
"My apologies are yours, take them. And Sun?”
“Yes?” Asked the Sun.
“Goodbye! Bring the morning when you so choose.” Said I.
“Right-o!” Said he.
“And hello dear night! Be gentle with our Sun!" I said. But the Night stared coldly over my head and did not respond. Then he gave one last shove to the sun. And the Moon sardonically gleamed. "Quiet is now in place. All must adhere!" The Quieter claimed. We all fell silent and we slept. Then the clouds came in to sing their night song:
The Night-Cloud Song We crowd in We crowd out We are the clouds of doubt Sleep you may And sleep you must Don't look as we dance about Mmmmm mmm mmm mmmm, Ha! Mmmmm mmm mmm mmmm, Ha! Mmmmm mmm mmm mmmm, Ha! Mmmmm mmm mmm mmmm, Ha!
The Quieter's eyes began to droop.
And then we all slept.
And the Waker slept as well.
But Wakers should not sleep. So this slumber was unusually strong.
And without a Waker, we all slept for 1000 years.
Then the Waker woke, for Hunger had awoken him, having tripped over him in the overgrowth.
HUNGER: “Oh! Excuse me! Forgive me! I didn’t see you!”
WAKER: “I will do none such thing!”
And then the Waker ate Hunger until there was nothing left (except for Hunger’s bones).
HUNGER’S BONES: “Oh! Excuse me! Forgive me!”
WAKER: “I will now do as you ask. I excuse you, dear sir. I forgive you, dear, um... What is your name?”
HUNGER’S BONES: “My name is... well, it was Hunger. But now, I’m not so sure...”
WAKER: “Well then dear, Notz O’shurr, I forgive you.”
NOTZ: “Oh! That is not my name, that is just what I am. I believe my name is Sate Shee-8ed.”
WAKER: “What am amazing name! I will take it from you!”
And then the Waker ate Hunger’s bones, (who’s name was Sate Shee-8ed).
WAKER: “There! Now I am you!”
And so Waker was then Sate Shee-8ed, and he forgot his old name. But not before he had completed his task.
WAKER: “HEY! EVERYONE! WAKE UP!!!!”
And then we all awoke. (Man, we were achy!) But it was too dark to do anything fun, so then we slept just a little more until the Sun decided to rise.
But the Sun was a very choosy Sun, with a lot of choices to choose from. So when I awoke again (a few days later) and saw that the Night was still darkening the sky, I knew the Sun would need my special help (I am a Dr. after all). Before I could help though, I needed a tad bit more light. So, I asked the Moon to shine a tad bit brighter so that I could see a tad bit better.
“How much is a tad?” Asked the Moon.
“A tad is a tid bit wider than a ted, but not as wide as a tod.” I said.
“How wide is a tod?” The Moon asked.
“As tall as a tud.” I said.
“THAT wide?” The Moon asked, stretching out his arms, except he had no arms so I had no idea how wide he was indicating.
“Um, suuure?” I said confidently.
“I see. I will shine a tad bit brighter then, as you asked.” The Moon said, and then brightened himself.
“AAAARGH! TOO BRIGHT!!” I screamed. My eyes were ruined.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” He paused. And then, “How is that?”
“How should I know? I am quite blind. Your services are now useless to me.” I said sadly.
The Moon fell silent, I suppose from grief (or boredom), and that was the last time we spoke.
SONG ABOUT MY BLINDNESS
If I was you and you were me You would be blind, you would not see For I am blind, blind as can be But if you were blind already too And you were me and I was you Being blind, for you, would not be new But for me to be blind is a novel thing I did not expect to not be seeing No one knows what the day will bring
Being blind is very not fun, you see. YOU see. And you have fun. But I? No fun at all.