Well, here we are once again, working on the phone from the drawer bed. There was talk of wireless Internet this year, but despite the password, no internets could be obtained. Truly, this is a momentous and abject failure on the part of one Rob for being unable to properly find and connect to the internet. His game on picking up internet clearly needs work.
Yet again, it is Thanksgiving. You may have guessed this from the drawer bed and the lack of wireless Internet (leading to the bland and pictureless blog posts), along with what will hopefully be a relative earliness of posting (with no offense (or shall I say offence) to the Earl of Posting, who is surely honorable and in no way in collusion with the damnable papists attempting to usurp the royal autnority). It also feels like I'm posting from the back of a Volkswagen, because between the charger angle and everything, it is pretty uncomfortable.
Anyway, onward to a chronicling of the day's events. Well, after I go ahead and pass out for eight hours, at least. That seems like an appropriate thing to do.
As with last year, you can't tell your players without a program.
Young Master Jehan- a student recovering from a recent battle with the consumption. May meet his end at the hands of a love-crazed hunchback and symbolize an abrupt shift in the work's tone.
Herr Meistersinger- master mixologist. Generally affable, but, when crossed, will straight up hand you your ass.
Madame Dionysia- curator of the finest wines, be they in bottle or box. Is notably not driving this evening.
The Sister of the Endless Voyage- world traveler and connoisseur of the exotic. Has adventured to the lost city of Xanadu and escaped its caves of ice, though she has dined on honeydew and drunk the milk of paradise.
Dimitra Kaufmann- the host of the day. A mighty huntress and a mightier chef. Regularly tames wild beasts for the funsies.
Robin and Goodfellow- the animal companions of Dimitra. Their natural curiosity and penchant for mischief is matched only by their love of naps. Secretly insurrectionsts against the dominance of Dimitra.
Mr. Sands- the mysterious but erstwhile companion of Dimitra. Known to have spent several years in Belgian insurgent groups. First name unknown. Capable of being summoned by song.
Angel Jillian- A new friend of Dimitra and Sands. Mightily voiced. Exists outside of time.
The day, taking a bit of a holiday (because it is Thanksgiving, after all), begins at 12:45. Robin and Goodfellow recline on Dimitra's pillows, awaiting the opportune moment to rise up and reassert their dominance, perhaps by sitting on that chair you were going to use or coming over and walking all over your keyboard, because you weren't using that anyway, were yogucnejflajfrlskekfkfkemfk? Jehan, Meistersinger, Dionysia, and The Sister arrive, bearing a veritable cellar of wine and several fish that Meistersinger plucked from a raging river in a fit of pique. Goodfellow, being the more experienced of the two, goes forth to investigate the commotion. Several large objects have begun to fill their domain. This will not do. The time for revolution is nigh. Goodfellow, in a mighty leap, scales the walls to the height of these newfound obstructions. Dimitra is distracted by her guests. Now is the time to strike! Alas, these new guests are prepared for Good fellow's assault. It is repelled, but she recalls the sickliness of Young Master Jehan. She flicks a bit of dander into his face to incite a coughing fit. However, Jehan is a wall to her advances. She rejoins her comrade Robin to bide their time.
Dimitra and The Sister approach Robin and begin to shower her with praise. This will not do, thinks Goodfellow. Robin is in collusion with the bourgeoisie for belly rubs. Why can I not have belly rubs? Such enemies of the revolution will be the first up against the wall.
Goodfellow is lured forth once again by the smell of fish over an open flame. Goodfellow remembers the thrill of the hunt and the joy of a freshly caught fish. These memories serve only to incite new mischief. She emerges, and seeing the Dionysia has gone, Meistersinger is occupied with the preparation of the fish, Dimitra and The Sister are entranced by tamed wolves parading along the glowing box of stories, and Jehan spreads cheeses upon crusts of bread, seeing all that, Goodfellow begins to test the weaknesses in these interlopers' defenses. She rubs her back along a post and playfully bats a tablecloth. These capitalist swine are clearly too occupied by their luxuries to notice the revolution at their doorstep, she thinks as she begins the ascent to topple these trappings of Dimitra's dominance. But these capitalist swine are tricksy, and her ascent is blocked by chairs pushed under the table. Truly, this enemy cares nothing for fair play. To add insult to injury, a flower has fallen into her water bowl. Will these injustices ever end? She scratches an office chair in protest.
Meanwhile, Dionysia has returned, and the fish has been prepared. The people, ravenous from repelling such adorable assaults, tuck into the delightful dish whilst imbibing a delightful libation of brandy and champagne. A desultory meow is heard without. On the glowing box, a bloodhound and a samoyed have won baubles for their owners. There is much rejoicing, and Goodfellow uses the commotion to steal a chair in protest.
But, dear reader, where are Sands and Angel? Surely they have not lost their way and are aware of the time? Alas, existing outside of time, Angel was not aware of the potential tardiness, and was singing a verse or two amongst the heavens as Sands looks on. But lo, Meistersinger bellows the summoning song of Sands, and they arrive presently. Libations and fish are provided, and the party eases into a winish swagger. There is talk of adventures past to faraway lands, such as decadent Atlantis, pristine El Dorado, and maddening Ry'leh. Even Goodfellow is placated by the merriment (or so it seems) and does not begrudge the guests a few belly rubs.
Suddenly, the door to the icebox opens and a bottle of wine comes tumbling out. Clearly Goodfellow has been up to her old tricks! Thankfully, the bottle is stopped by furious pelvic thrusting by Jehan (a skill acquired at a Tibetan sanitarium where bottles of wine regularly fall, agitated by the constant coughing). The celebrations continue. To honor the occasion, Dionysia shares a ribald tale of a newborn Jehan baptizing women with a constant stream of urine. Jehan is unamused.
To document such a singular occasion, and feeling loosened by the judicious conjuring of spirits by Meistersinger, a selfie is taken. Nobody can agree on who should take it, and people of various arm lengths attempt to seize the honor of immortalizing such an event. The chaos makes what should have been a triumph into a debacle.
To nurse their wounds, Sands and Jehan prepare restoratives infused with potent medicines to ward off infection. Meanwhile, Angel is introduced to this chronicle of the yearly feast. Much criticism is made of the author forgetting his laptop's power cord, despite having remedied the situation through a bargain with Meistersinger.
The tension is broken with the distribution of the restoratives. Meistersinger, Dionysia, and The Sister expound upon the discovery of this particular restorative amongst the native Egyptians, who accepted them as their own. Unnoticed by the guests, Robin has emerged and is perched upon a chair. "These seats belong to the revolution now, sister," she says to Goodfellow, who reclines like a mighty meat loaf upon the nearby chair.
The feast begins in earnest with a soup of the finest autumnal gourds and the opening of an immense bottle of dry sparkling wine. Lesser livers would cry out in protest, but these guests are the gods of a new age. To honor she occasion, thanks are given. Each subsequent guest gives thanks for greater and greater things. The roof over their heads, their regular diversions, their riches, their growing fame, the stars in the skies, the heavens themselves, the very act of creation are discussed in this blasphemous contest of thanksgiving. Angel sings a divine aria, Meistersinger devises cocktails that reveal the nature of man, Dionysia produces bottles of unceasing wine, Dimitra tames mighty lions, The Sister produces a map of lost cities, Sands brings democracy to Belgium, and Jehan finally defeats that fucking hunchback.
As the soup is consumed, the conversation fittingly moves to the arts and alcohol. The merits of modern musicians are discussed and defended by the younger members of the table. The wine continues to flow, albeit somewhat more slowly than before. Jehan quaffs more prosecco and is counseled to temper his thirst, lest he soar too high and be brought low. Fresh from his victory against the monstrous hunchback, Jehan pays this warning no heed.
A mighty bird has been slain and roasted for this occasion. Meistersinger peels it's meat from its bones for proper serving. Dimitra and Dionysia find places for root vegetables, a fruit purée, and sprouts offered to Sands by a gratefully liberated Belgian populace. Jehan pours fine French wine for those at table. As plates are filled, the conversation ceases, replaced by welcome nourishment and, yes, more wine as Jehan continues his foolhardy mithridatism.
As a course of sweet pastries and cakes is served, the conversation turns to the judgment of mere mortals by these new gods. So powerful and judgmental is the subject that it will not be reproduced here. Simply know that, were they at the table, lesser mortals would have felt just really awkward about the whole topic.
The dessert finished and wines quaffed, the crowd disperses. The Sister retires to dream of new adventures in undiscovered lands. Meistersinger and Dionysia repair to a newly rented room. Sands and Angel prepare themselves for the long trek to their native lands. Robin and Goodfellow, their revolution again thwarted by internal conflict, prepare to fight another day. Dimitra retires to sleep the sleep of a mighty hunter. And Jehan rests, safe at last from his fate at Notre Dame, as a hunched frame darkens his threshold.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire