WHOLESOME TALES

"MRS FIGGS TEETH"

Where does Mrs Figg hide her teeth?
I'd surely like to know,
Some say, by the bedstand,
others; in her clothes,

But when I went a rustling
in her laundry basket
I never found her teeth -
though other things --- don't ask it!

I follow her around the town
past pasta-house and vinyard
past the little Catholic Church
where all the Priests do Sin hard

but never can I tell
where she hides her little choppers
even as she saunters by
the local tomato croppers

Some say she keeps them in
a place no Lady puts 'em -
Well, I know it's not among
her knick-knacks, all that flotsam

which she keeps inside her bower
piled on her side-board; and that chair
that sits inside her window
where by morning she stands bare

(I know this for a fact
for every morning I spy her
as I prune her roses
and train each shoot with wire)

Oh where does Mrs Figg keep her teeth
her chatterers, her chompers?
I know they're not in a glass -
Oh the myst'ry drives me bonkers...

Now some as say -
who have a vulgar disposition -
that she keeps them in a dark place,
in a moist dark warm position

But I cannot believe it,
For Mrs Figg, although she's toothless -
would never put her teeth in there -
Not even Mrs Figg could be that ruthless!

"Mrs Figgs Teeth" by Tolstoy, though he would deny it, except he's dead.

Channelled by Wisey Banks.

What a mysterious mystery is Mrs Figgs teeth!

HER ENIGMATIC TEETH

A mystery
the blistery
Mrs Figg
and her teeth

of great renown -
it gets around -
Mrs Figg's reputation -
and her teeth

where are they
what happened
prodded up?
or hidden under?
or stolen
by a thief?

oh what a mystery
Mrs Blistery -
and her
enigmatic teeth!


"Her Enigmatic Teeth" by Tolstoy, apparently.

Wisey Banks

REFLECTIION ON HER TEETH (POEM 3)

It was a strange fancy
as I lay hard of sleeping
with the pillow on the floor
my neck in awkward alignment
to the bedhead,

that
i was kept sleepless
by a curious
phantom
chattering
through the thin board
of the parquetry wall
of my mind,

was it the ghostly chattering
of her teeth,

a subliminity accosted
my senses
thinking on
those chattering chompers,

chaterring moistly
in a glass
or some other moist
predicament
of my
imagination....

From Orwell's current dreaming after reading Marvell...

Wisey Banks

... ... .... Hey, Wisey - get the f*#k outta there!....

I find this kind of channnelling unfit for consumption by the younger hobbits here... Wisey - I wish you'd filter.... Filter, I say! What will people think of you? What will they think of Orwell? You know, I blame that Figg woman and her immoral teeth for all this!

HEART OF THE CHANNEL

A channelin' soul must
go where
the immortal filament takes it,

whether it be to the canyon of a bust
he must slide along
upheld by the wings of angels
dark? - forsooth -
who cares!

perhaps he will bathe in lust -
no hobbit lass
nor hobbit lad
should interfere
with the properties
of his profundity,

for a channelin' of sensual dust
moistened into the mud
Eru made us from,
is sheer
revelation -
to some,
perhaps it's a moistening
by the arcane
wetness
of channel lust?

such journeys in search of scented musk
tho' dangerous
and like to annoy
or offend
or titilate
must be taken
if one calls himself a channeler!


yes, a serious channeler must
follow the path set out
by his God,
for in his God
he trusts

Wisey Banks

I just KNEW you'd say something like that...

I felt a movement in my bower when I read that, Wisey... That's channelin' for you... Sometimes it's as mysterious as what Eru puts in the books he writes, and occasionally causes new revelators to edit and update...

I'm now minded of that Ritual you showed me last Sunday, Jane... I was moved... several times... And it wasn't just the repositions that movedc me, there were other things of a vastly 'revelatory' kind... Some of the things you did were a Marvel to me... and I don't mean the poet either... tho' I'm sure he would have written something to command the moment if he had seen what we were doing.

Yes some of our Secret Rituals at Our Lady's have that affect on people, Odo.

Was that you in the Ronald Reagan mask, Odo!

Nooo... noo itt wazen...

Oh sweet Eru... no... it couldn't have been...

Oh dear... I knew that Ritual was catharctic... but this is ridiculous...

Perhaps better we do away with the masks in future, Odo.

... but not the Rituals, I hope... I was planning something for the Year Twelve Girls, you see... for a bit later in the year... for their 'spiritual' development...

THE SAD STATE OF PLAY OF ODO R. BANKS, ESQUIRE

Once there was a honorable burgher by name Odo R. Banks, esquire. He was once of Rushock Bog, his birthplace, though his parents (whose names aren't remembered just now) were stout Ozhobbits from the Kimberleys in Ozhobbitstan. And he grew up a fine, sturdy, respectable Rushockian hobbit, but Odo always thought himself a proud Ozhobbit, and not your usual Forumshire riffraff. And he had a sound instinct for what was profitable and proper. Indeed, if it was profitable (he later philosyfied) it was probably proper. Through stern and firm supervision of the hard work of others, Odo became quite well to do, in the end owning several businesses, mines, manufacturing companies, export companies, Eagle Airlines, Beaver Shipping, and Twentyfourhorse Railways (however anachronistic); and many shoppes in the hospitality industry, the most famous being, of course, "Mrs Figgs Eel Emporium, which ënterprise fell on hard times due to the begaviour of ruffians (unknown to Odo) and purchased at a more than reasonable price by Odo Banks Incorporated.

Odo, when he was not long out of his Tweeds, bought a fine hole in Needlehole. It was in a hill and had a round red door at the entrance and was well laid out with all sorts of rooms, some open to visitors, and others locked (except to certain visitors). He married Primadonna Took and Bella Buttocks and had two rather rowdy children with them, Shady and Sandy Banks, who don't much come into stories, but might at some stage, but who knows?

It came to pass, that one day the humble Mr Banks was throwing out one of his kitchen lads through the back door of one of his Shopes in Needlehole - the boy having asked for a extra penny in his pay packet due to his sick Mother, which was rightly not Odo's concern. And he not only threw the boy out but said: "You're sacked! There are plenty of other desperately poor hobbits needing work, you depraved lad!"

While in the yard, Odo noticed two Brass Plaques on the rear wall of his Shoppe. Imagine his surprise when he realized they were full of the Wisdom of Ages and that Eru Iluvatar had placed them there himself - or at least, possibly one of Eru's Valinoreans had, as Odo wasn't there at the time, nor have any other witnesses come forward.

Odo read the plaques - a labour of at least an hour and a quarter - and he was amazed.

Then: "Carrots!" a little voice whispered.

"What?" asked our Mr Banks.

"Carrots! The Lord of Carrots Wants You!"

"Oh Voice - I not know from where you emanate! Are you Eru Ilvatar Hisself?"

"No, it's me. I'm standing by this water barrel, you dick!"

"Who the hades are you, little hobbit?"

"Mt name is Little Loki Panic."

"And what are you doing in the yard of my shoppe?"

"I am a messenger of Eru Iluvatar. Isn't it obvious, you oaf?"

"I can't see how it's obvious! And no need to be rude. What are you saying? Did Eru Iluvatar really send you?"

"Yes, Eru Ilvatar Himself - the Great Lord of Carrots!"

" "

"Well may you look shocked - but it's true. And I must tell you some of His Secrets."

"Go on then..."

And thereafter there was a lengthy whispered conversation, which was interesting at the time, but would be quite dull to recount, especially as I am a two finger typist, and a bit tired at the moment, creatively speaking.

At last, Odo said: "So, I must set out to the Mount Olympus Annual Picnic and Frankly and Intrusively Punish the other Forumshirans there? Is that what you're saying?"

"Basically - yes..."

"You know for a while there while you were whispering all that stuff, it made no sense whatsoever.. But when you informed me they were really Turnip People (which I had often speculated), it all made perfect sense. And, I admit I never understood my yearnings for carrots until now.... Praise the Lord of Carrots!"

"So we are agreed?"

"Oh absolutely! "

And so Odo and Little Loki Panic snuck up Mount Olympus (the one near Frogmorton) and they hid in some bushes, planning to launch their strategy at an optimal time, armed with a blowdart and plenty of sleep-serum, and a technicolour unbrella just in case.

But inadvertently, through no fault or foolishness of his own, Odo was discovered. And the Turnip People chased Odo away. Some say he caught the Brandywine Ferry and passed east toward Bree, and he has never ever been seen since... and that was more than an hour ago...

THE END

I think Mirry caught him and threw him in Lockholes for acts of gross indecency and frightening horses, and there languished and wrote his Ballad of Lockholes Gaol.

THE BALLAD OF LOCKHOLES GAOL

There woz Turnips to the left of me,
Turnips to the right,
As I fought the Evil Turnips in
the deepest darkest night!

"Oh Carrot Lord!" I cried - thrice! -
will you stop the evil mice?
they're chewing on my carrots-o,
that's not the least bit nice!

Across the verdant greenly grass,
Tall and ticklin' under-parts,
To the Ferry I was at last...
But sadly there I was aghast
The Ferry was a-leavin' -
Mastered by Ferryman O'Steven! -
for to the other shore!

"Oh Carrot Lord!" I cried - four in mind! -
"I'm truly oiled! Truly begrimed!
Oh my goodness, is that the time?!
And is that Bella dressed to the nines -
Though that skirt's too short
for a gal brought up on the Brandywine!

"Let loose your hand, my Niece Dear!
What's this? Manacles for my wrists!
Why do you cling so hard on me?
My Dear, what's that you wear: "Summer Mist"?

I heard her voice, my Little Niece,
"Odo! Uncle! Do you mind! Remove your hands
From whence they're nooked! Please desist!
You're under Arrest, please understand -
Under the Mental Hobbit Action Plan!"

And then rudely roughly my Dearest Niece,
Got my wrists a'tethered as if one piece,
And drew me along like I was a bull or goat,
--- and sometime clothed me in a cloak
as someone had presumably
stolen all my costumeillies!

I remember so little - but Turnips played
throughout the night in this cave ---
No, not a cave! It's the Lockholes!
Come morning the Turnip People have dissolved --
but they were here, I swear it!

"Oh Carrot Lord! He who is Wise!
Please come and save me from this gaol,
They say I'm mad - how unrespectable! -
Is that a rat swimmin' in that pail?

Is that a mouse running up the wall?
Is that Carrot People out in the hall?
Carrot People! Carrot People!
Strange to say - if not queer ---
But anyhow - I'm here! I'm here!

Wisey Banks as if via palantir but 'channelled' actually.

Oh Bravo Wisey! Bravo! As fine a piece of Channeling as I have heard and no mistake. Who says your best days are behind you.

Some as say he's lost it -
that's what the
Channel King once was told!
(He were Venerablest of Channelers,
like the Ancient Mariner,
but not quite so old!)

"Forsooth and For-utter!"
the Channel King did cry,
"A Channeler never loses it,
please close your dirty pit -
that pit You call a mouth! -
for it wasn't his to have in hand
to begin with!"

A Channeler is Meek and Mild,
And somewhat like a Child -
And when the Rays from Eru
fall upon his Consciousness -
He knows he is Blessed ---
Oh a True Channeler can never lose it -
If he stays true to His Channel!

And so I, Humble Wisey,
Duly tell thee now!
I haven't lost my Channel -
I wouldn't know how!


Wisey Banks

THE CATHARTIC MR ODO BANKS, ESQUIRE, BROUGHT UPON BY A BITTER EPIPHANY WHEN STRUCK BY REALITY, DURING A RATHER DISTURBING DIALOGUE WITH LITTLE LOKI PANIC IN A CAVE THROUGHOUT WHICH LOKI ENCOURAGES HIM TO END IT FOR ONCE AND ALL

Loki: You are quiet, Odo. Never fear, no one will find us in this old mine shaft, the chalk is spent... Odo? Odo? You seem too quiet. Have you nothing to say?

Odo: Am I lost, Loki? Am I alone?

Loki: No, I’m here with you.

Odo: Alone... alone...

Loki: You are not yourself.

Odo: Depressed and morbid! Depressed and morbid!

Loki: Oh that’s nice to hear. Though it doesn’t sound like you.

Odo: That’s the trouble – I know it’s me...

Loki: Well, when the Great Carrot defeats the Turnips...

Odo: Noooo! I don’t want to hear it... It was all lies, Loki. All lies! You made it up to addle me... just after I drank laudanum at Mrs Figgs. She said it was buzzy...

Loki: Surely you have not turned your back on the Great Carrot, Odo!

Odo: I will and I have! You lied to me, Loki. I know it now. Great Carrot! What a pernicious pecker of perspicacity that was --- you’re a darn liar, Loki! You were trying to get me in trouble.

Loki: No I wasn’t – was I?

Odo: You were and I know it now, didn’t I just say it. It was when we escaped the Lockholes that it began to dawn on me... Yes, I see it clearly – a vision of Porgy and Bella wrestling in the jelly... I mean – who put it there? You? Of course it was you. You planned for them to fall into that tub. How vulgar! How disgraceful! How like Loki to plan it – mischief maker! How frilly their knickers... Prime stuff of Unrespectability... And Orwell – a Lass!!! Who would have believed it? Well, not me, Mr Little Loki Panic – not me – no, not no more! He didn’t change, you changed him! You turned him into a hobbit Lass.... One of your tricks! Yes – I know you....

Loki: You gotta admit, that was funny.

Odo: Maybe.... if Orwell weren’t so darn scrummy now... [sigh].... scrummy...

Loki: You don’t fancy him do you?

Odo: That would be like me fancying myself, because he’s actually a ‘male’ hobbit, Loki – and you know it.

Loki: That never stopped you in the past!

Odo: Oh dear! It’s so true! That poor lad I snuck up behind --- and told him I thought it was Primmy – and then gave him a shilling to keep his gob shut... I’m damned aren’t I? I’m a filthy pervert!

Loki: You are upper middle-class, mind.

Odo: Maybe I should just end it all...

Loki: Indeed, you should. I think I have a knife here somewhere – where would you like me to start cutting?

Odo: I’m a sad bad mad hobbit. I deserve to be hung!

Loki: Indeed! I couldn’t agree more. There’s a tree just outside... and I think I have a rope here somewhere. Would you like me to put this noose around your neck – now, do you think? Or when we get you up on a chair...? I have one somewhere here... Oh here it is....

Odo: Do you know how I got my wealth, Loki?

Loki: No.... do you want to carry the chair or the rope?

Odo: I started by a horrid act of theft.

Loki: Oh horrid! Now, you carry the rope...

Odo: I stole a knife from the kitchen at Burdock Bunty’s Mine in the Kimberleys... But worse was to come.

Loki: Yes, yes – here... are you taking this rope or not?

Odo: You guessed it – I murdered Burdock Bunty! And then I forged a new will. And then my life of True Moneymaking began. First I bought more Mines... then I bought Rushock Bog and the rushes trade, then half the businesses of Needlehole.... then.... Oh Loki it goes on and on and on...

Loki: That’s exactly my impression... Would you prefer to carry the chair?

Odo: And then my Secret Life began. Absolutely no one knows this Loki, but I started a life of most secret licentiousness. I don’t think there is any maid in all of Forumshire I haven’t sullied, behind the sheds, or under the bridge, or in Our Lady’s Dormitories, either actually or ‘mentally’... I’m a bad hobbit, Loki – a very bad hobbit. I should be castrated and left to bleed to death!

Loki: I have the knife here. Have you reverted to that preference? It’s all the same to me...

Odo: The silly thing is... no the Truly Horrid Thing is: I pretend to be such an upstanding hobbit, a Respectabilian Par Excellence, outstanding above my Peers in my Respectability... And no one n Forumshire is the wiser. I’ve fooled them all.

Loki: Is that so? Well, well, well.... So perhaps you might whip off your trousers... I’ve got a sharpening stone... this knife is a bit blunt... Got a lot of use lately – among the more destitute and forgotten hobbits, recently laid off in the current downturn...You had to, of course, Odo, I do understand... and Loki must whisper in the ears where he can have best effect...

Odo: Is whispering dire thoughts into a depressed hobbit’s ear one of your bag of tricks?

Loki: Indeed it is!

Odo: My goodness! I have had to lay off a lot of hobbits in my time... I mean... my profits have been down... but... but... but I didn’t have to lay them off, did I? And that nursing home in Scotshobbiton... that was a terrible business. Those poor old people... and poor old Mr Tyrant, who never really means any harm – it’s the drink, you know – he got the boot too... it was quite a buzz for me at the time.... better than Mrs Figgs laudanum...

Loki: Are you going to end it all, or not?

Odo: Do you think I deserve to die, Loki?

Loki: Of course I do.

Odo: But many deserve to live, can you give them life, Loki?

Loki: Of course I can’t.

Odo: Then I think we should not be hasty... And I must admit, I feel very happy now, having got everything off my chest... Yes, catharsis... cleanses the soul, what... Certainly leaves me with the feeling that no one is perfect who is caught up in this mortal coil --- not even me. Have you finished sharpening that knife yet?

Loki: Do you mean you’re going to kill yourself, after all?

Odo: Of course not --– thank you for that... ooh its nice and sharp --- I’m going to kill you instead, you tricksy little bastard!

Loki: Oh my!

Odo: Hey come back here you little creep! Come back I say! You need to learn a bit of Respectability...Try to get me to end it all did you? You little creep! Don’t you know how badly people love me and need me in Forumshire? Especially the Year Twelve Girls – and me them to be perfectly frank... Oh how they would weep if I was gone...I said, come back...come back here...my goodness gracious me, he does run fast on those stumpy little legs of his, who would have thought it...?

I always find it quite amazing how life becomes story, and story becomes lergend in Forumshire, Mrs Figg! (I would also like to know how I am to be transformed back into my real self --- will it have to wait until this blasted picnic is over? ... Not that I'm all that unhappy in my new form, I just guess I'll become too familiar with it over time and begin with the regrets...[sigh] ---- life is a veil of tears, what...)