Stories

[Grand Moff Muffin]

I've had a very good week for stories.

Firstly, when I was at my folks in Bristol last weekend I rummaged through a large collection of free-films-on-DVD-given-away-with-newspapers that they've managed to amass. I watched one of them (the old b/w silent sci-fi 'Metropolis', which was OK) while there, but brought away with me Gerard Depardieu's 1990 film 'Cyrano de Bergerac' (French with English subtitles) and watched it during the week, and it blew my socks off. I've seen many period sword-wielding swashbuckling romantic heroes on film in my time, but never realised how the archetype is suddenly transformed into a top-notch character when you give him a big nose and a gift for insulting his enemy in the form of improvised verse whilst engaged in mortal combat.

Secondly, I'm just finishing off a 480-page volume of Russian fairy tales, which are just wonderful. Afanasev's stories have many roots in common with the Brothers Grimm and the Arabian Nights (so many begin with three brothers, or three sisters, or a cruel step-mother, or a simpleton who goes to seek his fortune, and go on to introduce a supernatural guide, treachery, a quest and the winning of a hand in marriage), but with a very distinctive Russian flavour. For example, whatever the story might be, if the hero or heroine ends up wandering in a forest you just know they are going to come to a clearing with a hut turning round and round on chicken legs, in which lives the big-nosed witch Baba Yaga who rides around in a mortar, driving it with a pestle and sweeping up her traces with a broom - though sometimes she is benign and sometimes evil. And the stories often end in a certain way, with a character falling asleep after a good meal and the narrator telling us that the story will continue when they awaken but is over for the time being. Or telling us, "I was there at the marriage feast - I drank wine and mead - it ran down my moustache and beard but none of it went in my mouth."

Finally, Saturday was lunchtime live storytelling at the Wales Millennium Centre, with Giles Abbott, one of the best professional storytellers I've seen (and I've had the pleasure of seeing a great many of them, and him more than once). He told three stories. The second of the three, concerning courage, particularly tickled me, and I'll re-tell it for you guys here if you like.

Martin

[legios]

Aug 3, 2009 6:30:10 GMT Grand Moff Muffin said:

He told three stories. The second of the three, concerning courage, particularly tickled me, and I'll re-tell it for you guys here if you like.

Martin

I can't speak for everyone else, but I at least would love to hear it.

Karl

[Grand Moff Muffin]

OK, here goes! It will clearly be an inferior version as it lacks the voices, performance and audience interaction, and any changes I've inadvertently made will be to the detriment of it, but let's just see what happens.

___

There were once three brothers who lived on a farm. What does you think they were? Farmers? Good guess, but no. They were mice.

Two of the three brothers were bold and daring and, like, well 'ard, yeah? They roamed the farm like they owned the place, showing off their a'itude 'n' all that. But the third mouse was very different - he was extremely nervous and timid, and afraid of everything. He was even afraid of his own shadow, what with the way it followed him around. His brothers called him Fraidy Mouse, and were always making fun of him.

"Oh! You're jus' pathe'ic, innit! You're 'fraid of everything, yeah? My God, wha' a lo-ser."

"Yeah, bruv, you tell 'im, bro."

"You're jus' hopeless, you wimp. You're scared o' ev'rything. I ain't scared o' nuthin'."

Pause.

"Actually, bruv, you are scared o' one thing, ain't you?"

"Shuddup, what you talkin' about? I ain't 'fraid o' nuthin'."

"What about... the cat?"

Another pause. Then, less confidently:

"Well, yeah, but _everyone's_ afraid of the cat, innit!"

Fraidy Mouse spoke up for the first time: "What's a cat?"

"Oh, you lo-ser. You not only a wimp, you don't know nuthin' either. Everyone knows 'bout the cat."

"Yeah, bruv, he's so stupid."

"The cat, right, the cat... well, he's brown, and he's round, and he sits on the ground, and as long as you don't move, yeah, he won't do nuthin', but if you so much as breathe, innit- SCHIIIK! You're dead, man."

After they'd finished teasing Fraidy Mouse, the two bold brothers went away, leaving him alone in the barn. He worried a lot about the cat, and worried himself to sleep.

Meanwhile, the farmer was nearby, going about his work. He had this huge bag of potatoes and he hefted it onto his shoulders with a great heave and began to walk. But one of the largest potatoes came loose, and fell out of the bag onto the ground. It rolled down the path, across the yard and into the barn, and it stopped right in front of Fraidy Mouse.

Eventually, Fraidy Mouse woke up, and saw the potato looming over him. He froze. It was brown... and round... at it sat there on the ground - this must be the cat! If he so much as breathed, it would surely gobble him up, so he stayed frozen in place, with his tail straight out, his whiskers in a very uncomfortable position, and his face contorted in a picture of terror. He stayed like that, not daring to move, for hours, until his brothers came back.

"Hey, bruv, whassup wi' Fraidy Mouse?"

Fraidy Mouse whispered out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes still fixed on the potato. "It's the cat!"

"What? You think tha's the cat? Oh, you're so dumb."

"Yeah, bro, tha's jus' a po'a'o, innit!"

"Tha's not gonna do nuthin' to you, fool. You such a lo-ser."

"Yeah, hurh-hurh."

And the first brother pushed the potato, which then rolled away.

When they'd had their fun teasing Fraidy Mouse for his stupidity, the brothers decided to take a nap, and as he was so tired from staying frozen in one position for so long, the humiliated Fraidy Mouse fell back to sleep beside them.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the farm, something round and brown woke up.

"Ah, I theenk ee's time for my afternoon stroll, non?" K-SHIIIK! "Ah, nice and sharp, yes?" K-SHIIIK! "And the other one, ee's tres bien."

And the cat walked royally around the yard. Wherever he went, the animals stopped what they were doing and watched him in fear. The chickens stopped mid-cluck, the old dog stopped barking and retreated into his kennel with his tail between his legs, even the pigs stopped oinking and watched the cat until he had gone by.

The cat entered the barn.

"Ohoho! What ees thees? Three leetle mice asleep in a row. I theenk I will eat them, non? But I am not cruel. I will wake them up first! Non. I weell wake up one - non, I weell wake them all up, and eat one, and make the other two watch. Oui. Thees one first."

And which one did he wake up first? That's right, Fraidy Mouse.

Fraidy Mouse opened his eyes and saw the cat.

"Ah! You're not going to fool me again, you stupid potato!" And he began punching and kicking the cat right on the nose. He did uppercuts, and right hooks, and all kinds of combinations up and down the astonished cat's face.

The other mice woke up.

"Hey, bro, wha's Fraidy Cat doin'?"

"He- he's figh'in' the cat! An' 'e's winnin'!"

The cat was so surprised that he ran off.

"Oh, man! Tha's so cool, innit! Hey bro, you were awesome, yeah? Can we... be your friend?"

And from that day forth they stopped calling him Fraidy Mouse - he became Top Mouse, Boss Mouse, King Mouse.

___

No, I'm not sure what the moral of the story is either.

Martin

[legios]

Aug 3, 2009 17:17:39 GMT Grand Moff Muffin said:

No, I'm not sure what the moral of the story is either.

Martin

Its....That is.....The moral is...... That is what it is, it's beyond me.

Heh. Good story though.

Karl