☘🤍☘
Now, as everybody knows, his kingliness came into the world as the first of eight young ones. He was first
in all ways. Largest, smartest, funniest, and most handsome. Leadership settled
like dew on his handsome dark brown coat.
Timbolino Brown, his self-chosen name, was a sort of wandering troubadour. He was only about 6’5”, well within hairless’ range, his coat was gingery, his eyes were icy blue, and his skin was a sort of pale olive color. It was as if his parents had kind of run out of strong genetic material. He had a full ginger beard, fierce eyebrows and a sweet, sweet smile. He wore clothing when performing in bars and clubs and such.
Timbolino got around. Lately he had returned to the Northern Forest, his home when he was at home, from Ireland, of all places. In Ireland he passed for Scottish. If the locals knew better they said nothing, as they love that kind of thing more than food and sleep. They kept his secret and loved every minute of the jest.
In most ways he was a self-made man. He carried an old Martin acoustic around and knew how to work it too. He even wrote his own material. His songs were a hit all over Ireland.
It was always a little jarring for Timbo, as his close friends called him, to come down from the stage, and his artificial persona, and go back to slipping around the Norther Forest like a regular Hairy Man. So, he decided to soften the blow with a visit to his elder brother and entourage. Ralph just had way of making it work smoothly.
On the day in question Timbo suddenly popped out into the morning air of the Home Clearing. There was a flash of bluish light, a slight boom, and there he was, looking all around with the guitar case held firmly in hand. He wore his stage getup.
“Woah,” said Twigg, who was the first to see him. Then, “Mom! Somebody is here!”
“Hey, Timbo,” said Ramona. “Good to see you. Why the fancy duds?”
“Hi, Ramona! Is Ralph around?” said Timbo, grinning his winning grin. “Oh the outfit? It’s for my gigs. Can’t do it hairy, you know!”
“Yeah, he’s here, Timbo. But he’s a little outside of right here. He’s up at Uncle Bob’s Stump House. They’ll tell you the story, no doubt.”
“Twigg, honey, will you take your uncle out to the Stump House?” said Ramona.
So, that’s what Twigg did.
Ralph was having a little dandelion salad with toasted hazel nuts with Bob and Suzy. An extra meal here and there doesn’t hurt a thing was Ralph’s belief.
He stopped chewing when he saw Timbo and Twigg coming up the path. Everyone sort of froze, understandably. Timbo had that effect on the Hairless too.
“Who’s the guy in pants, Ralphie?” said Uncle Bob, jumping to his feet.
“What next, Timbo?” said Ralph. “He’s my brother, Bob. Hold your horses. No need for alarm except possibly on the fashion front.”
“Greetings, all,” said Timbo. “I come from the land of many shades of green, and tussock leaping hares! I’ve just popped in from Dublin!”
“Where’s that,” said Uncle Bob.
“Oh, kind of on the other side of the world. It’s an island,” said Timbo.
“Why?” said Ralph.
“Would you like some salad?” said Suzy, proffering a bowl, for lack of anything else to say.
“I was going from bar to bar, and all sorts of outdoor venues singing and playing some songs! They even paid me!” crowed Timbo. “I had to dress up a little.”
“We have hares here too, Timbo,” said Ralph.
“Oh, mountain hares in Ireland are shape shifters! Uncanny Bunnies! That’s a good band name huh? But they aren’t bunnies. They are hares. They are supposed to guard the wilderness. Old timers think all kinds of weird stuff about them,” said Timbo. “They must be placated or there is hell to pay!”
“I think our hares might be related, “ said Ralph. “We’ve had some very funny business with some kind of rabbit things and Plaidies. There was some shape shifting involved. I’m not sure who was to blame for all of that. Though I tend to put most of the onus on the Plaidies!”
Timbolino Brown, his self-chosen name, was a sort of wandering troubadour. He was only about 6’5”, well within hairless’ range, his coat was gingery, his eyes were icy blue, and his skin was a sort of pale olive color. It was as if his parents had kind of run out of strong genetic material. He had a full ginger beard, fierce eyebrows and a sweet, sweet smile. He wore clothing when performing in bars and clubs and such.
Timbolino got around. Lately he had returned to the Northern Forest, his home when he was at home, from Ireland, of all places. In Ireland he passed for Scottish. If the locals knew better they said nothing, as they love that kind of thing more than food and sleep. They kept his secret and loved every minute of the jest.
In most ways he was a self-made man. He carried an old Martin acoustic around and knew how to work it too. He even wrote his own material. His songs were a hit all over Ireland.
It was always a little jarring for Timbo, as his close friends called him, to come down from the stage, and his artificial persona, and go back to slipping around the Norther Forest like a regular Hairy Man. So, he decided to soften the blow with a visit to his elder brother and entourage. Ralph just had way of making it work smoothly.
On the day in question Timbo suddenly popped out into the morning air of the Home Clearing. There was a flash of bluish light, a slight boom, and there he was, looking all around with the guitar case held firmly in hand. He wore his stage getup.
“Woah,” said Twigg, who was the first to see him. Then, “Mom! Somebody is here!”
“Hey, Timbo,” said Ramona. “Good to see you. Why the fancy duds?”
“Hi, Ramona! Is Ralph around?” said Timbo, grinning his winning grin. “Oh the outfit? It’s for my gigs. Can’t do it hairy, you know!”
“Yeah, he’s here, Timbo. But he’s a little outside of right here. He’s up at Uncle Bob’s Stump House. They’ll tell you the story, no doubt.”
“Twigg, honey, will you take your uncle out to the Stump House?” said Ramona.
So, that’s what Twigg did.
Ralph was having a little dandelion salad with toasted hazel nuts with Bob and Suzy. An extra meal here and there doesn’t hurt a thing was Ralph’s belief.
He stopped chewing when he saw Timbo and Twigg coming up the path. Everyone sort of froze, understandably. Timbo had that effect on the Hairless too.
“Who’s the guy in pants, Ralphie?” said Uncle Bob, jumping to his feet.
“What next, Timbo?” said Ralph. “He’s my brother, Bob. Hold your horses. No need for alarm except possibly on the fashion front.”
“Greetings, all,” said Timbo. “I come from the land of many shades of green, and tussock leaping hares! I’ve just popped in from Dublin!”
“Where’s that,” said Uncle Bob.
“Oh, kind of on the other side of the world. It’s an island,” said Timbo.
“Why?” said Ralph.
“Would you like some salad?” said Suzy, proffering a bowl, for lack of anything else to say.
“I was going from bar to bar, and all sorts of outdoor venues singing and playing some songs! They even paid me!” crowed Timbo. “I had to dress up a little.”
“We have hares here too, Timbo,” said Ralph.
“Oh, mountain hares in Ireland are shape shifters! Uncanny Bunnies! That’s a good band name huh? But they aren’t bunnies. They are hares. They are supposed to guard the wilderness. Old timers think all kinds of weird stuff about them,” said Timbo. “They must be placated or there is hell to pay!”
“I think our hares might be related, “ said Ralph. “We’ve had some very funny business with some kind of rabbit things and Plaidies. There was some shape shifting involved. I’m not sure who was to blame for all of that. Though I tend to put most of the onus on the Plaidies!”
"What's a Plaidie?" inquired Timbo.
"Pfffft, Timbo. I guess you could say they are faeries," said Ralph.
"Oh!!! Faeries! Don't ask!" said Timbo.
“You play that guitar?” said Uncle Bob hopefully.
“That’s what they pay me for,” said Timbo.
“Oh, boy! Do you know any Dead songs,” said Uncle Bob.
“I do,” said Timbo.
“Salad?” said Suzy.
“I’m stuffed full of Shepherd’s pie, Suzy darlin’” said Timbo. “Thanks, nope!”
“Will you play Mountains of the Moon, I’ll sing too,” said Uncle Bob.
“Sure, but first I want to go native,” said Timbo. He then peeled off the heavy Irish knit sweater and the plaid britches and the socks and the boots.
“Gosh, it’s great to be hairy again,” said Timbo. And he sat right down and took out his guitar. He played three or four Dead songs, Uncle Bob and Ralph sang along. Twigg had no idea his dad knew this stuff and he was purely agog. Suzy just watched in amazement.
Then Timbolino played and sang a song he had learned in Ireland about hares, with directions on how to effectively placate them, to save your good luck.
“We better go down to the Home Clearing now and tell Ramona all about it,” said Ralph.
Timbo folded up his outfit, after asking if Uncle Bob wanted it. Since he didn’t, Timbo brought it along.
“That was really fun,” said Uncle Bob. “Come back again if you want!”
“Maybe I will, old man, maybe I will,” said Timbo.
And so Ralph and his little brother, the troubadour, and Twigg, all strolled back down to see Ramona and Cherry. It had been a lovely visit, and in fact, Ramona was waiting for them.
“You play that guitar?” said Uncle Bob hopefully.
“That’s what they pay me for,” said Timbo.
“Oh, boy! Do you know any Dead songs,” said Uncle Bob.
“I do,” said Timbo.
“Salad?” said Suzy.
“I’m stuffed full of Shepherd’s pie, Suzy darlin’” said Timbo. “Thanks, nope!”
“Will you play Mountains of the Moon, I’ll sing too,” said Uncle Bob.
“Sure, but first I want to go native,” said Timbo. He then peeled off the heavy Irish knit sweater and the plaid britches and the socks and the boots.
“Gosh, it’s great to be hairy again,” said Timbo. And he sat right down and took out his guitar. He played three or four Dead songs, Uncle Bob and Ralph sang along. Twigg had no idea his dad knew this stuff and he was purely agog. Suzy just watched in amazement.
Then Timbolino played and sang a song he had learned in Ireland about hares, with directions on how to effectively placate them, to save your good luck.
“We better go down to the Home Clearing now and tell Ramona all about it,” said Ralph.
Timbo folded up his outfit, after asking if Uncle Bob wanted it. Since he didn’t, Timbo brought it along.
“That was really fun,” said Uncle Bob. “Come back again if you want!”
“Maybe I will, old man, maybe I will,” said Timbo.
And so Ralph and his little brother, the troubadour, and Twigg, all strolled back down to see Ramona and Cherry. It had been a lovely visit, and in fact, Ramona was waiting for them.
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