IN THE TENTH YEAR OF THE PANDEMONIUM

Tuesday, June 18, 2024

A Chance Meeting, With Bubbles

 





           A soap bubble floated silently among the trees of the Baker National Forest one day, from stage right all the way to stage left.

            But Ralph paid no attention to it. His brain didn’t even register the sight. Fatherhood was weighing on him a little bit this morning. He was in his office, well, seated on his big log where he does his thinking. Twigg was growing up some. There were rumors of another offshoot, and he felt like maybe it was time to be teaching Twigg something about being a Forest Keeper. He was pondering which skills he should invest the boy with, starting with the most important ones obviously.
            He thought over his own skills, putting them in order of importance.
            Vanishing
            Reappearing
            “Singing”, really a type of magic, to all appearances. (Covers a lot of ground.)
            Dispensing Wisdom
            Nest Building, which can occur in caves, etc.
            Forest Security Issues
            Doctoring Wounded Animals and Others
            Practical Jokes
 
            He smiled happily because he had settled his mind on the matter of the first, the most important thing he must teach Twigg. Vanishing! “There ya go, Ralph, old fellow,” he thought to himself.
            A flurry of bubbles flew by, propelled by the breeze. He saw these but wasn’t concerned. Things happen in the forest. There was also the sound of some very faint distant music.
            He stood and stretched, spreading his hands about 9 feet apart. Then he set off to find Twigg. He figured the boy would be hanging around the cave chattering at his mother. He was right. Twigg was practicing a kind of stealth walk behind Ramona as she moved around.  She was pretending not to notice him.
            “Twigg!,” Ralph said when he got near the cave. “I have decided to teach you how to disappear and then re-appear! It’s our first and best defense, and really essential for practical joking. What good is a joke if you’re visible?”
            Twigg thought anything his dad came up with was cool, so he was totally game.  He stopped pacing Ramona and said, “I want to be ‘visible!”
            “Well, you are remarkably visible right now, as it happens, Twigg,” said Ralph, confusing his son a bit. “Let’s you and me head out to my log and work on this!”
            It was a heartbreakingly beautiful day in the forest. Beams of sunlight slanted down through the tree tops. In the yellow light a few harmless insects dove and fluttered. A fine scent of the earth rose up and filled the nostrils with a resinous funk. Once again, there was music, far off stage. A flock of tiny gray Bush Tits flew like a wave on the sea, up and down and around the tree trunks, making their tiny cries.
            Hundreds and hundreds of shiny bubbles about the size of baseballs clamored by. It was like being kissed by fairies over and over, leaving little soapy smooch marks.
            Finally, Ralph noticed. There were bubbles popping all over his and Twigg’s fur, and more just kept coming toward them.
            “Where the everloving skunk are these bubbles coming from?” muttered Ralph, “and who is making that racket? It reminds me of something, ah never mind, Twigg.”
            Ralph sat his son down on the big log and stood right in front of him, looking pretty serious.    “Okay, this is how it goes.  The first time you vanish you must be holding my hand.  After that you can do it on your own. Hang on now!
            “What you do is whisper onetwothree and then hold your breath for a few seconds! You will fade!  Try it! I’ll do it at the same time.  Ready?”
            Just as Ralph and Twigg vanished from view, a lady came striding onto the stage near Ralph’s log. She carried a battery powered bubble machine, a backpack full of bubble supplies and had a small speaker stuffed in her shirt pocket. She was six feet tall and wore a black beanie.  She was very fond of the 80s sound, Men Without Hats, et al! She had a rather fluffy domestic tabby tom cat on a leash. So, her hands were pretty full.
            Seeing the handy log, she set her bubble machine up there and turned it on! The air swarmed with bubbles! She hopped up on the log and pulled out a smoke and lit up.
            Minutes went by. Ralph got tired of being invisible.
            “Boo!” said Ralph. She didn’t look impressed.
            He said “threetwoone” on a big intake of air and popped into view.  All eight hairy feet of himself.  The tabby cat was impressed but being on leash didn’t have much scope to express his surprise.
            She looked at him through the bubbles, took another puff and said, “hey.”
            Ralph was expecting more of a reaction, but he said “hey," too.
            “Now what?” said the lady.
            “Well, I was showing my son here how to vanish and reappear, and you wandered right into the middle of it,” said Ralph. “Making bubbles,” said Ralph.
            “Tell ya what handsome, me and my cat will show ya how it’s done,” said the lady hopping down off of the log. Scooping up her bubble machine and her cat she strode off into the dim forest. Soon it was as if she had never been there at all.
            Ralph kind of rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if any of that was real, really.
            “Hey Twigg, grab my hand and we’ll bring you back.” Together they did that thing where they say, "threetwoone," on the instake of breath, and Twigg popped back into a visible wavelength.
            So, the little guy learned how to vanish and reappear in spite of bubbles.
            Ralph thought that was probably enough teaching for one day and he was getting hungry anyhow. So, in visible, ahem, form Ralph and Twigg padded silently back to the fire circle to see what Ramona had been cooking all morning.
            It was big pan of red Pontiac potatoes roasted over the fire in rather a lot of butter, with salt, pepper flakes, garlic, and rosemary. 
            What an interesting morning it had been, Ralph thought, while delicately ingesting a yeoman's serving of roasted spuds! You just never know who you might meet out here in the Baker National Forest.


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