Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Now to be an Embassy



The King Cometh Old King Koon sent a handwritten, carrier-delivered message that he would pay another visit, if agreeable to us. The messenger coon waited for our reply which we quickly scrawled on the recycled inside candy bar wrapper bearing the king’s request.
We wrote: COME AWAY!
After awkwardly waiting for a tip (we gave him a Ritz cracker) the delivery raccoon scampered munchily down the front steps and across the street into the sewer grate.

Some time passed before His Regality tapped his cane knob on our door making his appearance. Again he came alone, because, as we previously reported, the city crews flushed and vacuumed the sewer grate tunnel that had previously impeded his blind pathfinding. Joyous he was to have received the blessing of a clean sewer outlet/inlet. We must remember to tell the public works department.

This time, he said, beginning tentatively, he was seeking housing for an above-grade terra-firma emissary, to be sent from the sewer raccoon fraternity; plus, he needed an item for the main raccoon chamber, which is, again as we previously said, at the center of the downtown, in a large "walk-around," a crossroad auditorium tunneled beneath the old post office. (Now a palace for humans called The Rotunda for Waukesha mostly Republican a'glitterati.)

Regarding establishing an embassy here, the King, in recognition of our gathering friendship, wished to place a raccoon on our protective premises. A go-between, an able young runner to carry signals between the non-text-messaging King and this raccoon-friendly SR News sanctuary.

The King cleared his throat for an important announcement: "We American sewer raccoons, now that the highly-respected (non-Bushian) Obama stands a good chance of being elected, may come above-ground again! If we do that, and mind, we are only thinking about it, meeting in council about it at this time, we will be benefited, lubricated if you will, by having a human such as yourself preparing the way for us. Preferably, someone like you, old and credible.”

" Your Majesty," I protested, "Indeed, I am old, but certainly am far from credible!"

“Yes, I know. But frankly, I overlook your tendency toward story-telling in favor of your kindness and location (location, location, a-n-d location!) right outside our main entrance to the sewer line. I, as King, am myself too old to make many easy visits here, but my subject runner, if you’ll allow him - or her, for I may select a female - can make Quick Trips, just as I am told, in my blindness, there are convenience stores named the same here and about, above ground though sewer connected.”

Then he came to the second part of his request:

It would be most convenient, sir “– imagine, him calling me sir! – “if you would give us the materials for a simple candle snuffer. Our foragers have looked far and wide in vain for something in the gutters - or purloinable yards - to make one. You know, scrap that would never be missed. I don’t need much light, but my underlings do. Much candle wax is used in the darkened sewers, and it is great trouble to cup our prehensiley-fingered feet around so many flames to blow scores and scores of candles out. Ointment that we must borrow is constantly being applied to burned fingers that must be whole for the washing of our food, as is our custom!”

“Our needs are few, and simple, and we will pay you for any kindness,” he said with a wink toward the coin pouch he wore on his belt.

“Your liege,” I nearly stammered. “Look at this! I have a self-made candle snuffer that you may immediately have!” He squinted down through his white beard at the simple snuffer I long ago fashioned from a piece of cake-pan, bent conically just so, with an easily graspable (by raccoons, even) brazing wire for a handle. The device was from the days when we were poor; now we have a fancy, formally-manufactured snuffer.

“YES, that would do nicely! I thank you very kindly (again he calls me), sir! And thank you as well and kindly for the gracious and human, though raccoon-like, permission to place the go-between coon on your land. I must return and make a selection, give instructions, and conduct certain underground ambassadorial appointment ceremonies,” he said with a thoughtful brow.

And with that, - though we greatly protested - he opened his coin purse and withdrew a golden sovereign (really, the foil from a child's chocolate coin) and left it on the foyer table. He was gone, but not very quickly for he was feeling his way.
...............................
Much later, there was a raccoon under the bug-house in the back yard.

So far, not as conversant as the King, his shyness indeed must be overcome, but he has our rapt attention, presently at some distance.

to be continued








1 comment:

moewriter said...

More fun - I had some lol's- you are keeping me up past my bedtime.