‘Tickling Butterflies’ – The Athlete and the Author

Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy, containing 128 fairy tales that together create one huge story.

Here’s the story so far. The story continues:

 

The Athlete and the Author

(Containing the second exciting story about a second pair of twins.)

 

This is the story of Otto the Outstanding, as told by Otto the Outstanding, and heard by King John the Cute and his party.

As the king and his party of trusted friends, ministers, and advisors left the cave of Magno the Magnificent, they headed to the other side of the mountain. On the way, they came across the cloud Chariot, who waited for them patiently. “If you need me, give me a shout,” Chariot told the king. “Until then, I am waiting here.”

“Very good, my friend,” said King John the Cute.

A few hours later, the party arrived at Otto the Outstanding’s camp. Otto the Outstanding was six hundred and fifty years old and did not look a day over fifty, and a muscular fifty at that. His hair was only marginally white, and his spirit was high.

Upon seeing the king and his party, the adventurer asked them to sit down and eat and drink.

The king accepted the offer. Then he said, “Otto the Outstanding, how is it that you look so young and yet you have lived for over six hundred years?”

“A while back I drank a powerful potion that prolonged my life and gave me great strength,” he confided. “But my sharp senses and keen eyes tell me that is not what you seek. Ask me any question, tell me to perform any task, and if it is honorable, I shall fulfill it gladly.”

“We come seeking information about the Original Monster. He possesses knowledge that will help us save the Land of All Legends from the illness that has befallen it.”

Otto the Outstanding whistled. “The Original Monster? I haven’t heard that name for a while. Yet I have thought of him each and every day for the last six hundred years. But what good will it do you to hear my story? I have not seen the Original Monster in six hundred years.”

“Perhaps you possess a clue that will aid us,” said King John the Cute. “Please, tell me your story.”

Otto the Outstanding bowed and began to tell his tale.

My name, he said, is Otto the Outstanding. And I am as my name implies. I am a great adventurer. I take risks and I don’t think twice. I leap into danger and always come out victorious. I quest and I complete my quests. Women fall in love with me, and then grow angry that they have fallen for a foul cad. I save the helpless and vanquish the evil. And always I treat my adventures with self-deprecating humor that everyone finds endearing.

One day, six hundred and forty years ago, I set on a quest to find the Original Monster. I tracked stories and rumors, I followed footsteps in the sand and the smell of ancient fur in the air. And thus, after years of questing, I found myself on the River Red Continent.

I am not used to waiting during my quests, but for the Original Monster I waited. I waited in a spot in the jungle where he is rumored to move every few years. I lay down a trap – a net that would grab anyone who walks on top of it. And then I waited. I waited for three years, three days, three minutes and thirty-three seconds. And at that precise time there was movement in the net. I ran out of the bushes, and saw the Original Monster there, hanging in my net. He looked as if he was half human, half monkey: hairy all over, but huge. And yet his eyes shone with wisdom.

“Please let me go,” the Original monster spoke, and his voice was soothing and relaxed. He did not fear being caught, for I can smell fear, and I did not smell it on him.”

“I am Otto the Outstanding,” I introduced myself. “And once I have caught my quarry, I never let him go. We shall go together to the mainland – you shall be my prisoner – and I will show you to the world. And everyone will know that I am truly outstanding.”

“I will give you something you want, Otto the Outstanding,” the Original Monster said. “I will tell you a story. It is a story about yourself.”

I shrugged. “Tell it to me or don’t tell it to me. I will not let you go.”

“I choose to tell you the story,” the Original Monster said. “Please sit down. It is not a short story.”

I sat down, certain that he would try to trap me. And yet, his suggestion to tell me a story about myself seemed strange and… special. I listened to his tale.

“This is the tale of Otto the Outstanding,” the Original Monster began. “But to understand it, you must understand where I have been over the last few centuries. I have found a path to another world. It is a path paved with the imagination of children, and it leads to a world of no magic but much imagination. It is a world with many people, but few creatures and no talking animals. It is a world of buildings as high as the clouds and of lights that burn on the ceiling of every room without fire and no magic. I have seen things in that world that shocked me… And I have also learned that stories told in that world create this world.

“Whenever a new story is written in something called a book, and when many people buy that book and read it or tell it, the stories told in that book become true in our world. That is how people and places come to existence at the Border of Nothing. That is the secret of almost everyone who lives here.”

“That is absurd,” I said. “Such a place cannot exist. You try to trap me with confusing words.”

“It seems absurd. And yet I have seen it. I have been there. And I have read stories that later came to be true here. Some of these are the stories of the great adventurer, Otto the Outstanding. Other stories are stories of others you and I know well. And so I made it my life’s new quest to find the story behind the stories, to discover the stories of the storytellers, those who write and tell the stories, and to learn how their minds could create living beings. During the last centuries I have spent most of my time in that other land, traversing the path paved with the imagination of children, to that other world. I spend years there, and then I return to breathe in the magic of my land and be refreshed.

“In my journeys, I have discovered the story of Wyatt Whalen, the author of Otto the Outstanding and his adventures. That is the story I would like to tell you.”

Then the Original Monster fell silent and did not talk again. After a minute, my appetite whetted, I said, “Go on, then.”

“This is the story of Wyatt Whalen, the man who invented Otto the Outstanding. This is also the story of William Whalen, Wyatt Whalen’s brother. Wyatt and William were born together, on the same day and to the same mother. They were identical twins, similar in looks but in nothing else.

“William was outgoing and was always among friends, while Wyatt was shy and kept to himself. William liked to play ball with friends. Wyatt liked to play with himself for hours: his imagination would conjure up characters, and he would play with them without ever growing bored. William was the adventuring type, always going off to climb trees and explore. Wyatt remained in his room always, dreaming up adventures in his mind.

“As the two grew older, William became an athlete, which is a man who competes in physical competitions, and Wyatt became an author, which is a man who writes books. William loved to run and to push his body to its limits. When people of that world without magic exert themselves physically to the fullest, they are suddenly washed with a feeling of accomplishment and joy, a feeling that they can do anything, that they are super-powerful. William felt super-powerful all the time, since he pushed his body to its limits all the time. Wyatt, meanwhile, never exercised, and his body was weak and could not exert itself even a little. Wyatt would sit all day in his room and write his books, while William would spend all his days outside, exercising his body.

“And this is where the odd piece of the story comes in,” the Original Monster continued. “Even though William spent all his days feeling super-powerful and even all-powerful, no one knew his limits better than him. He knew that he would never outrun a speeding bullet, or that he could never lift a house. The super-powerful brother knew his limits well, for he ran against them every day. Meanwhile, Wyatt Whalen, the weak brother, whose body had no strength, sat in his room alone and invented story after story of an adventurer who was super-powerful and had no limits. The weak brother believed that there are no limits to the body or to a man’s abilities, and so that is what he wrote when he wrote Otto the Outstanding’s adventures.

“And that is how I learned, Otto the Outstanding,” continued the Original Monster, “that the stronger a man is, the more he knows his limitations, of himself and the world, and the weaker a man is, the more he believes that anything is possible. And that is the story of Wyatt Whalen, William Whalen, and Otto the Outstanding.”

Otto the Outstanding rested from his story, then looked at King John the Cute and continued, “That is how I learned, King John the Cute, the truth about myself. It was so plain and felt so right that I knew it to be true right away. With the help of the Original Monster, I have seen the deepest truth about myself, and I have never been the same since. Sure, I have had more adventures. But I was more mature this time, I knew who I was. And even though I performed impossible task after impossible task, I knew my limitations well. And that is the story of my experience with the Original Monster.”

“But wait,” King John the Cute said. “Did you release the monster? What happened in the end?”

Otto the Outstanding hesitated and did not answer.

“Otto the Outstanding?”

Once more, Otto the Outstanding hesitated. Then, he spoke, “Is the Land of All Legends really sick and dying?”

“It is,” affirmed the king.

“And will learning the truth about the Original Monster really help you?”

“I believe it will. He knows deep secrets about how we are born and about the very fabric of this land. He knows secrets of the land that created us. The illness of the land lies in those secrets.”

Otto the Outstanding nodded. “I understand. Then, even though I had promised I would not, I am forced to tell you the other half of this story.”

“The other half?”

“Yes. The other half of the story is the story of the Original Monster himself.”

And so Otto the Outstanding began to tell the second half of the tale, the tale of the Original Monster himself.

This has been the beginning, middle, and ending of the first story (out of two) told by Otto the Outstanding to King John the Cute and his party.

This has also been the second story (out of four) about twins in this book of legends.

Next follows the second story told by Otto the Outstanding to the king.

 

(To be continued on Sunday…)

 

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‘Tickling Butterflies’ – The Hero and the Storyteller

Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy, containing 128 fairy tales that together create one huge story.

Here’s the story so far. The story continues:

 

PART 8

THE STORYTELLERS

The Hero and the Storyteller

(Containing parallel parables of a hero and his creator.)

 

And so it was that during a time of hardship and death in the Land of All Legends, King John the Cute and his party set on a journey to the River Red Continent in an attempt to learn the secrets of the Original Monster and how he traveled to the land of no magic, the land of the storytellers.

Six were in the party: King John the Cute, Minister Vazir, Minister Azriel Jones, Colonel Stone, Benjamin Miller, and the cloud Chariot who carried all of them.

Within a few days, Chariot arrived at the River Red Continent, and Colonel Stone directed the cloud to the cave of Magno the Magnificent.

All alighted from Chariot. “I will be here when you return,” said Chariot.

“Thank you, my friend,” said King John the Cute.

The party headed into the cave. There, they met with Magno the Magnificent. The man was older than when King John the Cute had last seen him, but his hair was still wild, his muscles still rippled, and his heart was still the heart of a hero.

“Welcome, your highness,” Magno the Magnificent bowed before his king. “I have been waiting for you ever since the honorable Colonel Stone told me you would come.”

“Thank you, Magno the Magnificent,” said the king. “When we last met, I was but a child, and you told me of your hunt for the Original Monster. We need to find him and ask him his secrets in order to save the Land of All Legends. Colonel Stone assures me that you have succeeded in your quest to capture the Original Monster, and Death himself assures me that the monster is not dead. Another source assures me that the Original Monster knows a way to a land without magic. I must find the way to that land. The fate of the Land of All Legends depends on it.”

“All these things are true, your highness,” answered Magno the Magnificent. “The information you have gathered must have been at quite a cost, as it had come to me. Sit down, sit down all of you, drink and eat while I tell you the story of the Original Monster and myself. You may not like the story, but it is all that I have.”

“We thank you for your hospitality and for your information.”

The king and his party sat down. “Begin,” said the king.

My story begins, began Magno the Magnificent, before I was born. But I shall get to that later and begin when I was born.

I was born a hero. I had always felt I was a hero, but I had not known it. Back when I was young, I overheard a hunter’s party speak of their quest to hunt down the Original Monster. When I heard who he was and how impossible it was to catch him, I knew that that was what I was born to do. Every part of me needed to find the monster. Every iota of every atom in me needed to go on adventures and find the Original Monster.

Ever since, I have dedicated my life to questing after the Original Monster. Every time I felt I was close, every time I hunted down a clue or a witness, the Original Monster eluded me. Finally, after decades of searching and questing, I lay down a trap in the River Red Continent, and I waited. I waited for two years. Then, exactly five years ago, I captured the monster in my trap.

I ran out and saw the Original Monster hanging in my net. He was a massive man, as hairy as a troll. His muscles were huge and hairy and bulky like mine. And even though he was hanging upside down in a web, he seemed heroic.

“Please let me go,” said the Original Monster, his voice deep and relaxing. There was no fear to be heard in his voice and no fear reeked from his body, for I can smell fear.

“My name is Magno the Magnificent,” I said. “And my entire life has been dedicated to capturing you, the first true monster. There is no chance that I will ever let you go.”

“I will give you something you want, Magno the Magnificent,” said the Original Monster. “I will tell you a story. I will tell you a story about yourself.”

“I make no promises to release you, since I have given my life to capturing you,” I said. “But I will listen to your story, for you have intrigued me.”

“That is fair,” said the Original Monster. “I will tell you now the story of Magno the Magnificent. But first I will tell you how I came to know of it.

“I was, indeed, born before you, before any of the creatures you know, and any of the creatures that they know. I have lived longer than any of those who live now. I was here right after the land was born, perhaps even at the moment it was born. I had a different name then. I have had many different names. And yet I never died. You say you dedicated your life to finding me. I have dedicated my life to many things, and I have long achieved all those things. Now I dedicate my life to something else.

“I have found a path to another world, Magno the Magnificent. It is a path laden with imagination that leads to a world with much imagination but no magic. It is a world in which lights are caused not by fire but by something called ‘electricity’. It is a world of books and stories. I have learned things that have shocked me deeply. Not least of which is the fact that stories told in that world become true in this one.

“That world, that world without magic, creates this world. Whenever a new story appears in something called a book, when enough people buy that book and read it and tell it, the stories told in that book become true in our world. That is the secret of almost everyone who lives here.”

“You lie,” I told the Original Monster. “Such a world cannot exist.”

“I felt the same as you. And yet, I have seen it. I have seen it… and I have even seen the stories which included many of my own adventures. That is how I knew it was true. Because those stories were written before they had happened to me.

“Ever since that day, I have dedicated my life to discovering the secrets of those who make up the stories that come to life here. I go to that world, and I trace the steps of those who invent the legends of the creatures I meet here. I go to that world and learn its secrets. And then I return here, to my home, with greater knowledge.

“In my travels to that other world, Magno the Magnificent, I have read stories containing the adventures of Magno the Magnificent. I have read books and tales of adventures you have had in your life and of adventures you have yet to experience. And in my travels, Magno the Magnificent, I have met the man who invented Magno the Magnificent, the man who wrote all of his adventures. And in my travels, Magno the Magnificent, I have learned his story. Would you like to hear it?”

I was thunderstruck, King John the Cute. I could not believe the things I have heard, and yet they seemed real. I wanted with all my want to listen to the Original Monster. And yet, I did not want to be duped by the monster. I did not want him to trick me. So I said, “I am intrigued by your story, monster. But I cannot promise you that I will let you go because of it.”

“That is fair,” the monster said.

And thus, still imprisoned in my net, he began to tell me the story of my creator, “This is the story of Paul Perabo, the man who invented the famous stories of Magno the Magnificent.

“Paul Perabo was born Paul Obscuro. He was born in a country in which he and his family and each and every one of his people were living under a military rule of the government. No one liked Paul Obscuro’s people, and the military occasionally came in and did whatever they wanted with the people, threatening them with guns. Paul Obscuro’s father was in an army called ‘The Resistance’, and so Paul grew up learning from his father everything he needed to know about adventures, survival, violence, and self-protection.

“When Paul was six, the army killed the parents of everyone who lived in the his street, including Paul’s parents. Then the army took a few of the young children and made them part of the army, convincing the young children that the army was the one in the right. Paul continued to grow up under cruel soldiers who turned him into a cruel soldier.

“When Paul turned eighteen, he escaped from the army that had trained him, escaped the country he had grown in, and changed his name to Paul Perabo. He came to live in a country without wars. The country gave him asylum and protection. Paul grew to shed behind his education of violence and to live a life of leisure and luxury in a country that had no wars.

“When he was twenty-four, he began to write stories of adventures. The stories were loved by children and teens and adults. They told of a hero, Magno the Magnificent, who always won the day and was always a hero. But the violence and adventures in the stories, although they seemed great to those who read it, did not even begin to scratch the surface of Paul Perabo’s violent experiences. As great an adventurer as Magno the Magnificent was, he was but a shadow of what Paul Perabo had really seen. In addition, Magno the Magnificent’s adventures always ended up with happy endings, even though the only happy ending Paul Perabo knew was his own. His friends and family, even the soldiers who raised him, all suffered from sad endings.

“And this has been the story of how Magno the Magnificent came to be and how a single man’s imagination created you.”

I must tell you, King John the Cute, that I was astounded. I knew the story to be true at the moment I heard it. I knew that Paul Perabo had created me, and that my life has not been what I thought it had been. I knew that from that point on I will always be different and wiser.

That story changed me as soon as I heard it.

“Original Monster,” I told him. “You are a great creature, a great legend. You have given me the gift of true knowledge and you have changed my life. For this, I will release you as you asked. Perhaps you will do me the honor of staying and telling me more of that other land. Have you ever traced back the man who invented you?”

“I have traced back most of my own story,” said the Original Monster. “But I will not share that with you. I have offered you your own story, and that is what I have given you. You must find that enough, for I will share no more.”

“Thank you, thank you,” I said, as I lowered the net and cut it. “You are free to go and to continue with your life.”

The Original Monster then quickly disappeared into the woods, claiming that he was about to begin a long quest in that other world, and that he would not be back for at least fifty years.

Ever since, I have remained here, older and wiser, in the River Red Continent, the land of the older and the wiser. I have lived here a second life, a life of wisdom. And yet, I do come by the occasional adventures, but I deal with them differently and in a more mature way. I believe I was created for this moment, I was destined to meet the monster and learn my own truth. I was destined to live the life I am living. And I feel fortunate to have done so.

“And that,” continued Magno the Magnificent, “is the story of my encounter with the Original Monster. True to his word, I have never seen him since.”

King John the Cute and Benjamin Miller looked at each other. King John the Cute said, “Your story is an amazing one, and I have much to think about. And yet, I am more determined than before to find the Original Monster and to ask him a few questions, for he may hold the answers to Benjamin Miller’s and Minister Vazir’s way home, as well as the secret to the sickness that pervades the Land of All Legends. Can you direct us somewhere? Do you have a clue as to the Original Monster’s whereabouts?”

“I myself know nothing,” said Magno the Magnificent. “But perhaps you can ask Otto the Outstanding. He had hunted down the Original Monster, as well, years before I did. He has captured him, as well, and yet the monster was loose when I encountered him. Perhaps he has a clue that I do not.”

“Otto the Outstanding is still alive?” Benjamin Miller whispered. “As you no doubt recall, my king, I told you about him when we were in the Land of No Respect. He was the one who said the Original Monster had spoken of another world, of my world. Otto the Outstanding was the one who began my decades-long search for the Original Monster. But that was almost six hundred years ago. How could he still be alive?”

“Alive he is,” answered the hero, “and living but a few caves from here, also on the River Red Continent. I will tell you how to get there.”

This has been the magnificent story, containing parallel parables of a hero and his creator, in which King John the Cute and his party came one step closer to getting a look into a land of no magic.

This was also the story in which we learned that the Original Monster was not in the Land of All Legends, and would probably not return for years to come.

 

(To be continued on Thursday…)

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‘Tickling Butterflies’ – The Boy Who Wanted His Mommy

Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy, containing 128 fairy tales that together create one huge story.

Here’s the story so far. The story continues:

 

The Boy Who Wanted His Mommy

(Containing a stray ending to a long story.)

Before you, dear readers, is not a whole story, but an ending of a story. The beginning and middle of the story happened a long time before the ending, and their details have been told elsewhere in this book of legends.

The ending of the story begins at the end of the last story:

“And near my lap was this book,” said Al the Average ,”a book that belonged to Charley, the book your Minister Vazir took from me.”

Minster Vazir looked down at the book in his own hands. As Al the Average finished his tale, the book in Minister Vazir’s hand became heavy with memories. The memories flowed from the book to Minister Vazir’s hands and into his blood. From there, they circulated throughout his entire body until they came to rest in his brain.

Suddenly, Minister Vazir, the man with no parents and no memory of his childhood, remembered everything he had forgotten.

“Al!” he shouted. “Al the Average! It’s you!” When Al the Average looked at him in surprise, Minister Vazir turned to King John the Cute. “King John the Cute, I’m Charley! I’m Charley! Gladys is my mother! I remember everything now!”

Silence engulfed Minister Vazir, as the meaning of his words sank into all who stood there.

“Al!” Minister Vazir continued. “I remember my Teddy Bear! I remember the dragons! I remember my mother! I remember I don’t have a father! I remember how I wanted to get ice cream and suddenly I was sliding down a white slide and landed in a green field with no memory of who or what I was!”

Everyone stared at Minister Vazir. King John the Cute realized this was why Death had looked at Minister Vazir when he mentioned creatures who come from other lands. Death had seen it in Minister Vazir’s aura!

Suddenly, Minister Vazir fell to his knees and screamed in passion, “I want my mommy! I want my mommy! I want my mommy!”

In exactly this way he kept screaming for five minutes, until King John the Cute calmed the minister down. “Minister Vazir,” he said. “Charley… It seems that the Fates had indeed brought Al the Average to us for a reason. It seems that Al the Average’s story does have a happy ending. I must tell you something now. Are you listening?”

Minister Vazir nodded.

“Benjamin Miller here also comes from your world,” said King John the Cute. “I have vowed before him that I will find him a way back home. Now I vow before you that I will find both your ways home. We will discover the path to this strange world Al the Average has visited, and we will reunite you two with your parents.”

“My parents are long dead,” said Benjamin Miller. “I am seven hundred years old.”

“I’m a grown man,” Minister Vazir said. “My mother must have forgotten about me.”

King John the Cute raised his hand. “If you recall Al the Average’s stories, time passes differently on that world. Years pass here while only a few months pass over there. I believe the Fates would not have brought us together if there was not to be a happy ending to the story. I believe your mother,” he gestured at Minister Vazir, “is still young. And I believe that your mother,” he gestured at Benjamin Miller, “is still alive.”

Benjamin Miller and Minister Vazir both began to cry.

This has been the happy tale of a happy ending to many stories, even though the story itself ended in tears.

Even as the two men were crying, Colonel Stone rushed into the court of the palace, having just rushed into the palace, having just rushed into the city.

“King John the Cute,” Colonel Stone exclaimed. “The mission you have given me has been successful! I have found the whereabouts of Magno the Magnificent. He has, as you suspected, captured the Original Monster and is now living on the River Red Continent.”

“Excellent work, Colonel Stone,” said King John the Cute. “Benjamin Miller assures us that the Original Monster knows the path to that other world we seek. Come, all! Come, Chariot! We leave immediately for the River Red Continent!”

 

(To be continued on Tuesday…)

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‘Tickling Butterflies’ – The Fates and the Nuclear Bombs

Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy, containing 128 fairy tales that together create one huge story.

Here’s the story so far. The story continues:

 

The Fates and the Nuclear Bombs

(Containing a woeful tale of a world without the Fates.)

 

Before you is the last tale of Al the Average, a tragic tale of his tragic third journey to the mysterious planet Earth, a planet with no happy endings, no magic, and no Fates.

John the Cute, Al the Average began to tell the tale of his third journey, my third journey was nothing like the first two. It is a tale of woe.

More years passed for me in Bambooville, as I waited to be carried once more to the magical land with my friends Gladys and Charley. I am a big believer in the Fates, and so I did not worry that I did not know the way. I trusted the Fates to find a way to bring me back there.

And so, after five more years passed in my world, I once more found myself in that other strange world, not knowing how I got there.

In my wanderings, I found a man on the street, crying.

I asked him what was wrong.

“It’s a long story,” he said.

“I like long stories. Please tell me your story. Maybe I can make you feel better.”

And so the man told me his tale.

His name was Mister Jobs. Mister Jobs’ job was delivering something called ‘nuclear missiles’ to a place called a ‘military base’. A nuclear missile, John the Cute, is a special bomb they have in their world. One bomb has the power of hundreds of dragons breathing fire at the same time. It is a small missile but when it lands, it destroys a city as if a giant fell on it.

In this other world, when one country gets nuclear missiles, its enemy country also gets nuclear missiles. That way they can threaten each other with nuclear missiles, but they also know that if one will use the missiles they will both be destroyed. So they try to avoid using that weapon as much as they possibly can. Which is what they claim is the purpose of the weapon. I must say, I found it very strange, to build a kind of weapon that is meant not to be used.

In any case, Mister Jobs’ job was to deliver all the new nuclear missiles to the military base. Earlier that day, he had just delivered ten new nuclear missiles and was heading out when an alarm sounded and all the doors closed.

He looked around and saw everyone in panic. A machine called a ‘radar’ was showing that the enemy country has just launched their nuclear missiles, and those missiles were heading towards their capital city. Everyone was in panic, and the commanders ordered to launch the brand new nuclear missiles that Mister Jobs had just brought to the base.

The military officers began their thirty-second countdown. But then the commander noticed that the missiles about to be launched were still covered by nylon bags. The commander stopped the thirty-second countdown and began to yell at Mister Jobs. He yelled at him that he was not doing his job well, that he had not unwrapped the bombs’ nylon wrappings when it was clearly his job to do so. Only after the commander completely humiliated Mister Jobs for three complete minutes, did he order the thirty-second countdown to continue.

But by then the radar had shown that it had made a mistake, and that the missiles launched at us were actually a flock of birds. No one had launched any missiles. And so there was no reason to launch missiles in return.

And now Mister Jobs was crying and feeling sad because the commander, mean as he is, had a point and Mister Jobs and performed his job poorly.

I listened to his story, John the Cute, and when it was over I told him my opinion of it. “You should be happy, Mister Jobs,” I told Mister Jobs. “If it wasn’t for you not doing your job, nuclear missiles would have been launched. You saved your country. You saved your enemy’s country. You saved the world. Do you not see that the Fates made you do it?”

“The Fates?”

“Yes. I am a big believer in the Fates. The Fates directed you because the Fates wanted you to save the world. And today that is what you did. You saved the world.”

Mister Jobs thought about it and suddenly smiled. Now he felt a lot better.

At that second I thought the story was over, but the fact is, John the Cute, that what I have told you is just the beginning of another story.

“Another story, Al the Average?” King John the Cute asked.

Yes. Please listen.

Just as I left Mister Jobs, I ran into my old friend Gladys. I was very happy to see her. She looked like she hadn’t aged a bit, even though I have aged five years. And yet, her face was filled with sadness.

“Al! Al! I haven’t seen you in three months!” she said.

I chose not to mention the fact that it had been five years for me in my world. Instead, I asked her how she was.

At my question, she cried and could not stop.

“What happened?” I said, hugging her.

“Al, it’s awful. Charley is missing!”

“What?!” I was shocked. “What do you mean?”

Then, between cries, she told me the story of what had happened.

Two and a half months ago, she went out with Charley to get some ice cream. Charley was very happy then, and nothing seemed wrong. In fact, he was happy retelling her all about me and the night I killed five invisible dragons.

Gladys came back into the house with the ice cream and heard silence. When Gladys looked around, she discovered he was missing.

“He hadn’t been seen since, Al!” Gladys cried. “The police has searched for him everywhere! We don’t know if he was kidnapped or if he is lost or… I don’t know what happened to my son, Al! It’s been two and a half months!”

It was a terribly sad story, John the Cute, and all I could do was hug her. Then I said, “I understand that it’s very sad, Gladys. But if it happened to me, I wouldn’t worry.”

She wiped away her tears and looked at me. “Why not, Al?”

“I’m a big believer in the Fates, Gladys. If he has been kidnapped, then maybe he will save his kidnappers from a greater harm and save the world as well. If he has vanished, then he will probably return in a time that would save your life. The Fates always make sure that somehow, magically, there is a happy ending.”

Gladys broke down in tears again. “Al,” she said. “There is no fate, there is no magic, and there are no happy endings. Life is terrible!”

I knew that she was wrong, but I knew that she would not listen while her child was gone.

I wanted to vow right there and then to prove to her that there are Fates in her world and that things do turn out for the best. I even recalled the story I had heard only minutes before, about how the Fates had saved the world using forgetfulness and nylon bags.

But I did not have the heart to say such things to a friend in such sorrow. I did not have the strength to vow, because deep down I was afraid I was wrong and that something awful has happened to Charley.

And so I said nothing, John the Cute. I sat there and hugged her and said nothing. After a few hours, she fell asleep in my arms. I still held her. And then, between one blink and the next, I found myself suddenly sitting on another bench back in Bambooville, the bench the evil witch had sat on a few years previously.

And near my lap was this book, a book that belonged to Charley, the book your Minister Vazir took from me.

And that is the last story of my last journey to a land with no magic, no Fates, and no happy endings. This has also been the woeful story with no happy ending, John the Cute, about how my friend Charley vanished from his mother’s care.

 

(To be continued on Sunday…)

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‘Tickling Butterflies’ – The Teddy Bear and the Invisible Dragon

Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy, containing 128 fairy tales that together create one huge story.

Here’s the story so far. The story continues:

 

The Teddy Bear and the Invisible Dragon

(Containing the turbulent tale of Al the Average’s battle with an invisible dragon.)

 

The following is the second story of the second trip of Al the Average to the planet Earth, the realistic world of those who read and imagine but do not believe in magic.

As you no doubt recall from my story which I had told but two seconds ago, John the Cute, I had traveled to the strange and mysterious land the name of which I do not know. There, I met my old friend Gladys and her seven-year-old child, Charley, who was now eight years old. When Gladys claimed that magic did not exist in her world, I vowed a deep and great vow that I would not stop and I would not rest until I proved to Gladys and to myself that her world does have magic.

I did not tell Gladys my vow, but I did accept her invitation to their apartment for dinner.

While Gladys prepared dinner, she said I could play with Charley, which I gladly did.

Charley ran to his room and brought back a small furry bear made of cloth that he called Teddy Bear. Teddy Bear looked at me with button eyes.

“Hello, Teddy Bear,” I said.

Teddy Bear said nothing.

I tried again, “Hello, Teddy Bear. My name is Al the Average.”

Again, Teddy Bear did not want to speak to me. “Is something wrong with him?” I asked.

“He’s shy,” said Charley. Then he put Teddy Bear next to his ear. “What’s that, Teddy Bear? What did you say?”

“What? What did he say?” I wanted to know.

“Teddy wants to know if you want to play Castle?”

“I don’t know the game,” I said, “but it sounds interesting. Is Teddy going to talk to me when we play?”

Charley put Teddy to his ear, and listened. Then he said, “Teddy only wants to talk to me.”

I felt bad at this, but Charley was such a nice kid that I agreed to play.

Charley put together a circle of pillows in the living room, and said, “This is our castle. Outside of it are all the dragons.”

“Where? Where? I can’t see them!” I was afraid suddenly. I knew some dragons could be very dangerous.

“Over there! Flying! Be careful!”

I ducked.

Charley gave me a sword. “You have to fight them and kill them,” he said.

“But I can’t see them! They’re invisible!” I looked around, trying to catch a glimpse.

“It’s okay. Teddy can see them. He’ll tell you where to go.”

I bravely stepped over the pillows, sword in hand. Teddy whispered instructions in Charley’s ears, and Charley told me where to go and when to use my sword.

I killed dragons until Gladys said that dinner was ready.

I was happy that I killed five invisible dragons! I was a hero and I didn’t even know it!

I looked around, exhausted. Charley was looking at me with shining eyes. Gladys was leaning on the wall, looking at Charley with shining eyes of her own.

“Now do you see, Gladys?” I said, panting. “I killed five invisible dragons before dinner! There is magic in the world!”

She looked at her son’s shiny eyes with her own shining eyes, and smiled. “Yes, Al. I see that you were right. There is lots of magic in the world. Thank you for showing that to me.”

I was glad that I had completed my vow so quickly and so effectively. This, on top of slaying five dragons, was a good night, and dinner was a good dinner.

Dinner was so good that I think I fell asleep in that chair, because I remember eating, and then I remember dreaming of home, then I remember opening my eyes, and finding myself in my bed again, back in my parents’ house in Bambooville.

There was no indication that anything had actually happened. No one had noticed that I had been missing for two days – in fact, only one hour had passed. I began to think that my memory did not take place and that it was some kind of fantasy, but then I found in my room a glider. It was one of the sporting accessories which I had seen in one of the many stores I had visited. It is a tool of that world that allows people to give themselves to the wind and fly.

And that is how I knew that my trip was real, and that my vow had been completed, and that I proved there is magic in the strange land with no name.

There was, however, one more vow to be taken, and one more trip to go. That trip, too, happened years later. Should I continue speaking, John the Cute?

“Continue, Al the Average. Your stories are fascinating.”

 

(To be continued on Tuesday…)

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Benedict Cumberbatch, Neil Gaiman, and Guy Hasson Walk Into a Bar…

SF Signal just published a new guest post I wrote, called Benedict Cumberbatch, Neil Gaiman, and Guy Hasson Walk Into a Bar…

Here’s a little taste:

 

To be clear: this post is your fault, the fault of SF Signal readers.

In my last guest post a few weeks ago, I told you about how I was approached by Mary Belle, CEO of Digital Kingmakers, and how she offered to make my guests posts go viral.

It was…an experience, which I had fully relayed in my post. Her theories were infuriating. And yet, having done everything she said, the new post got 17 comments (viral by SF Signal standards), while my original post (no less brilliant) got none. (Don’t remember? Check it out.) That post even made the list for top 30 SF Signal posts in May.

True to my public promise, I returned to the offices of Digital Kingmakers. In the email that preceded the meeting, Ms. Belle promised to further reveal to me the psyche of the SF fans in a way that would increase my book sales by 1000% in a month.

Last time the experience was insulting. This time it proved to be…psychedelic.

I wish I could tell you I was making this up. But I can’t.

Here’s what happened.

 

Read the entire article here.

‘Tickling Butterflies’ – The Second Vow

Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy, containing 128 fairy tales that together create one huge story.

Here’s the story so far. The story continues:

 

The Second Vow

(Containing a realistic tale of a world without magic.)

 

The following is Al the Average’s first tale of his second journey to the planet Earth.

John the Cute, Al the Average began, years passed between my first voyage to the mysterious planet and my second voyage there. Since I did not know how to get there, I returned to the wheat fields and waited and waited for hours, and sometimes for days. Sometimes I waited with my eyes closed, sometimes I waited with my eyes open; but always I waited without success.

Then one day, when I went to sleep, I closed my eyes, and recalled my first journey. I remembered Gladys and her son Charley and I longed to see them.

Suddenly, I heard a honk. I looked around, and I saw that I was no longer in my bed. I was lying down in the middle of a road, and strange steel horseless carriages they call ‘cars’ were going back and forth.

I was happy to return to this world, and once more I began to wander hither and thither. I enjoyed the sun’s different color, for it is much yellower in our world and much mellower in that world. This other world, John the Cute, has riches beyond imaginings. While we hardly have one or two dozen books that recall our tales, they have stores with thousands upon thousands of books. They have stores with books that have pictures. They have books for the young and books for the old. They have books for women and books for men. Their stores store food for hundreds. They have stores for sporting clothes, they have stores for braids. They have stores for curtains, they have stores for balloons. If you can think of it, they have a store for it.

When I was walking out of my one hundred and eleventh store, I accidentally bumped into a woman. I quickly saw that the woman was my old friend, Gladys. Holding her hand was her son, Charley.

“My goodness! Al! What a surprise!” she exclaimed. “Oh, how you’ve grown!”

We hugged and kissed, and she told me some of the things that have happened in her life and in Charley’s life during my absence. At the end, she said, “But how could you possibly have grown so much? Only a year has passed!”

“A year? Seven years have passed for me in my world,” I said.

“Seven years? Don’t be ridiculous, Al. It is true that you look seven years older, but time doesn’t pass differently for different people. That can’t happen.”

“Why not?” I said. “It could be magic.”

Gladys laughed. “Oh, Al. There’s no such thing as magic in the world. Magic doesn’t exist.”

“Gladys, where I come from, magic is something you see every day. Witches and spells, magicians and curses. I see magic at least five times a week.”

Gladys laughed again. “Oh, Al, Al, Al, you’re so funny.”

“Gladys,” I said, afraid that what she said about her world was true. “Last time I showed you that there are happy endings in this world. Will you not believe me that there is magic, as well?”

“Al, Al, Al. This world is dry and grey. There are strict laws here – laws of physics and laws of nature, laws of man and laws of state. And these laws cannot be bypassed. We must live by the rules and we cannot escape them. Magic does not and cannot exist.”

I was horrified, John the Cute, to think that there is no such thing as magic in that strange world. Horrified, absolutely wholeheartedly horrified!

And so I vowed right there and then to never rest and to never stop until I could prove to Gladys and to myself that magic exists in her world.

This has been the realistic story, John the Cute, of a world without magic. But it was only the beginning of my second magical journey. Shall I continue?

King John the Cute nodded. “Continue, Al the Average.”

 

 

(To be continued on Sunday…)

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‘Tickling Butterflies’ – The Woman Who Lived Happily Ever After

Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy, containing 128 fairy tales that together create one huge story.

Here’s the story so far. The story continues:

 

The Woman Who Lived Happily Ever After

(Containing a disturbing and shocking tale with a surprisingly happy ending.)

 

Before you is Al the Average’s second tale of his first journey to the planet Earth, the world without happy endings.

As you recall from the story I told but two seconds ago, Al the Average continued, I had just met a woman who loved her son but did not believe there were happy endings in her world. And I had just vowed to never rest and to never stop until I proved to her that life does happy endings, even in her strange world.

The woman was called Gladys and her seven-year-old son was called Charley. She asked me for my name, and I said “Al the Average.”

“That is a terrible name!” she exclaimed. “Who gave you such a ridiculous name?”

“My parents, of course.”

“They would call their son ‘average’?”

“Of course they would,” I said. “I am exactly half the height of my father, Toby the Tall, and twice the height of my mother, Tabetha the Tiny. That is why I am Al the Average.”

Gladys made a face, then shrugged. “I’ll call you Al, if you don’t mind.”

I did not mind.

Remembering my vow, I volunteered to join her and Charley as they walked back to their home. That way she would feel more protected.

On the way, I decided to get her to tell me her story. Perhaps I could find the happy ending to her story.

“Charley is a very beautiful boy,” I said. “Your husband must be very proud.”

She looked at me as we were walking, and said, “I don’t have a husband.”

I was confused. “I do not understand, Gladys. Charley is your son, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is.”

“Is his father dead?”

“I certainly hope not.”

“Then I must have misheard. I thought you said you don’t have a husband.”

“You heard correctly. I don’t have a husband.”

“How can a woman have a child without a husband?”

She looked at me and laughed. “Oh, Al,” she said. “You are so innocent.”

I must have had the same confused look you have right now, John the Cute. But then she told me her story.

“For many years,” she said, “I looked for the perfect husband, for the perfect man that would complete my life. I searched high and low for a man who would be perfect for me. But everywhere I looked, I saw men who fell in love with me, but that I did not like. And everywhere else I looked, I saw men with whom I would fall in love, but would make me feel bad. I wanted to live happily ever after, but I could not. Not with the men I had found.

“And then it was time,” she continued, “to have a child. And so, with the help of a friend and a couple of doctors, I had a child with a good man, but not one that I would live with. He gave me this gift, then went on about his life.

“And that is the story of how Charley was born. And ever since my life has been a struggle. I struggle at work to get food on the table in a world that has no happy endings. I struggle to make Charley a happy boy even though this is a world with no happy endings. I try to spend every free second I have with him, so that he will learn as late as possible that there are no happy endings in life.”

I considered her story. “I do not understand,” I said. “Doesn’t everybody struggle at work to get food on the table?”

“I suppose so, Al.”

“Then that means that every day at work has a happy ending, because you return to your son with and have enough money to buy food. Am I right?”

“I suppose you are, Al.”

“And when you play with Charley and make sure he is a happy boy… Is he a happy boy?”

“The happiest.”

“Then isn’t the story you told me about how you had a child with no husband… Isn’t that story a story with a happy ending?”

“But the ending isn’t now, Al. The ending is many years from now.”

“The ending of a story depends on how you tell the story,” I told her. “Isn’t now a good place to stop and say that so far Charley’s story has had a happy ending?”

“I suppose it is…” she said.

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“You play with him, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“He likes playing with you, doesn’t he?”

“Of course.”

“Then the story of how Charley came to be is a story with a happy ending, isn’t it?”

She thought about my words, then she thought about my sentences, then she thought about their meanings, then she thought about Charley’s life. “Yes,” she said finally. “His story does have a happy ending. … I was always thinking about how it would end sadly that I never considered that endings depend on how you tell the story. Thank you, Al!”

I was very happy with the result. My vow had been completed in less than thirty minutes!

I told her, “You are so happy, even without a husband, that I think you’re living happily ever after right now, aren’t you? You have a child you love. That’s the happy ending you wanted out of your life, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is!”

“You should go to the Happily Ever After Home for the Married and live there. You should explain to them why you’re not married, and I think they’ll understand.”

“Oh, Al,” she laughed. “There is no such place as ‘The Happily Ever After Home for the Married’. What fairy tale world do you live in?”

I was about to answer her, when I suddenly stumbled and fell. I tired to stand up, but then I felt like a wind had caught me and then I felt like I was sliding down something and once more fell on my face. When I stood up, I was back in the wheat fields, outside Bambooville. There was no sign of a path anywhere, there was no hint of another world, a world full of lights and happy endings. It all appeared to have been some sort of delusion.

But then I saw at my feet a radio. During my fourteen hours of journeying, I had seen a radio, its uses have been explained to me, how it can play both music and conversation as well as the newest news. And suddenly there it was, at my feet. I turned it on, but in the Land of All Legends, it plays only uniform noise.

I did not know how or why I had gotten to that other land, nor do I know how I got back. All I know is that I had taught a woman that she was living happily ever after, and that Gladys and Charley would be fine, now. I was also filled with a need and an urge to return to that strange land and learn more about it. And perhaps I would even meet Gladys and Charley again.

But that would come years later.

Do you have strength in you to listen to the tales of my second journey, John the Cute?

King John the Cute nodded. “Continue,” he said.

“As you wish.”

 

(To be continued on Sunday…)

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‘Tickling Butterflies’ – The Woman Who Loved Her Son

Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy, containing 128 fairy tales that together create one huge story.

Here’s the story so far. The story continues:

 

The Woman Who Loved Her Son

(Containing a sad tale with a not-happy ending about a woman who loved her son.)

 

The following is Al the Average’s first tale of his first journey to the planet Earth.

John the Cute, you will not believe my tale. One instance I was in the wheat fields outside Bambooville, where all children play and laugh. A tornado was coming in my direction. I was so afraid for my life that I did not know what to do. I closed my eyes in panic. And when I opened them again, the tornado was gone, the wheat field was gone, and I found myself far away from the town of Bambooville.

I walked around, John the Cute. I saw buildings taller than the tallest buildings. I saw more people walk by than there are people in this world. I heard more noise and sound than my ears could hear. And even though it was nighttime, the streets were as bright as day.

It was a world with only people, John the Cute. It was a world with no monsters, no creatures, and no fairies. Clouds did not wink at you when they passed. Dogs did not speak and cats did not wear boots. It was a strange land, my king, a strange and mysterious land.

I walked around for fourteen hours and fourteen minutes, astounded by everything I saw. And then, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a street, in the middle of a thought, I heard a woman scream.

I ran in the direction of the scream, and found myself entering a darker-than-most street corner. There I saw a woman standing in front of two men. The woman was protecting her young child. Before I could do anything, one of the men pulled out a knife and took a step towards the woman.

The woman, who had no knife of her own, nor any weapon or magical spell to aid her, jumped at the man with the knife and screamed. She beat him with all her strength, she flailed her arms wildly and shouted till my ears almost popped. The man with the knife was so surprised, he did not cut her. The other man tried to help his friend and attack the woman as well. Without thinking, she lashed out at him and scratched his face.

“Too much trouble,” one of them said, then turned around and ran away.

“She’s crazy,” the other said, running right behind him.

I was astounded and shocked by what I had seen. I ran towards the woman, who was breathing hard, and I asked her if she was all right.

At first, she did not listen to me. She grabbed her son and touched him all over, just to make sure the knife had not cut him. Once she saw that he was unharmed, she breathed more easily. Then she looked at me.

“My,” I said, “what great strength you have.”

“It was an act of desperation,” she told me.

I considered this. “I don’t think it would matter how desperate I was, I cannot imagine jumping at two attackers when I have no knife, weapon, or even a magical spell to protect me.”

“Magical spell?” she said. “I learned a long time ago that there is no magic in this world, none at all. This isn’t a fairy tale world. This is real life. And in real life there are no happy endings.”

Hearing her words, I was even more shocked than before. “No happy endings?” I cried. “How can that be? The world is full of happy endings!”

“Son, son,” she told me. “Most things end badly, that is my experience. Most stories end tragically. In fact, most things end sadly. The best you can hope for is a not-sad ending. And if you want your story to end less than tragically, you have to grab your life by the bootstraps and make it happen. My son is the most precious thing in the world to me, and I love him more than I love anything else. He was in danger. I did everything humanly possible to make sure he wasn’t hurt. I made my own not-sad ending, that is all.”

I must tell you, John the Cute, that I was stricken to my very core by the notion that a world could exist without happy endings. And as I found it sad I realized that I was living a story right now, and that the story had just ended sadly rather than happily.

I decided right there and then that I would not let that rest. I vowed that I would not rest and I would not stop until I proved to the woman that her life does have happy endings and that her world is a world of happy endings.

This has been the sad story of a world without happy endings, John the Cute. But it was not the end of my journey.

“Continue, then,” said King John the Cute. “I must hear the rest.”

“And hear it you shall,” Al the Average bowed.

 

(To be continued on Thursday…)

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‘Tickling Butterflies’ – Al the Average Calms Down

Here’s the story so far. Now to the latest fairy tale:

PART 7

A WORLD WITHOUT MAGIC

Al the Average Calms Down

(Containing a remarkable tale of a man on the run.)

 

Al the Average feared King John the Cute.

He had feared him since before he was king. He had feared him back when John the Cute was cute, back when he was a child. He had feared him when John the Cute began to tell everyone of Al the Average’s radio. Al the Average feared very much that his precious radio would be taken away from him. And so, when he heard that John the Cute, now king, was looking for him and his radio, he ran.

For many weeks, Al the Average evaded the grasp of all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, until the Fates led him by the throat to Capital City, the palace, and King John the Cute’s presence. A blindfolded woman with a broken heart had thrown him on the floor in front of the king and left.

Holding a book in one hand and a radio in the other, Al the Average raised his eyes at his old acquaintance. “Please, please, please,” he begged. “Don’t take away the beautiful things I’ve collected all my life! They are precious to me!”

“Al the Average,” said King John the Cute, “I have no desire to take away anything that belongs to you. I merely wish to learn the secrets of the radio. Oh! There it is! In your hand! Minister Vazir, that square thing is the magical seashell I have spoken to you about. Examine it at your leisure, then return it to Al the Average.”

Minister Vazir, the man with the forgotten past, took a few steps towards Al the Average, and the two looked at each others’ faces for the first time during this day.

Minister Vazir said, “Do I know you? You seem familiar.”

“I’m sure I don’t know anyone who works in the palace,” said Al the Average. “But… I’ve seen your face before. It was different, though… I cannot place it.”

“Your highness,” Benjamin Miller, the seven-hundred-year-old lost orphan from another world recently rescued from the Land of No Respect, interrupted. “I don’t know anything about a radio. But the other object he is holding: that is a book. It has almost the same colors as the one my mother used to read me! That is an object from my land!”

Minister Vazir grabbed the book, looked at it, then passed it to King John the Cute, who examined it thoroughly. Benjamin Miller then touched it and smelled it. He nodded to the king.

“You have been to another land, a land that is not the Land of All Legends,” King John the Cute stated. “You must tell me everything you know. How did you get there? What happened there? What is it like? Who else knows how to get there?”

Al the Average rose to his feet, tears in his eyes. “Your highness… old friend… Do you promise to give me back my precious objects? The book and the radio?”

“I promise. I only seek information. Tell me what you know of this other land, and you shall have them back.”

Al the Average relaxed. He looked at his old friend and was relieved. “You must believe me, John the Cute… I mean, King John the Cute, that I have no idea how I traveled to a strange and magical land, nor do I know how I had gotten back. I have never been able to fathom these mysteries, or I would have spent much more time there.”

“Tell me what you do know, then, Al the Average. Tell me of this other land.”

“Very well, my king. But I must warn you that my tales are tales of a world that cannot exist. It is a wonderfully shiny world, but a horrible world, a strange world, a mysterious world, a dark world.”

“Al the Average, I must hear your tales nonetheless.”

Al the Average nodded and began to tell his troubling tales.

This has been the remarkable tale in which Al the Average stopped running from his king. This has also been the critical tale in which Al the Average began to tell his tales of the planet Earth.

 

(To be continued on Tuesday…)

Remember: You can have a fairy tale written about you.