Where did we leave those two? Oh yes, our intrepid pair were standing in that yard on Cathedral Ave with that talking statue.
Not any statue, but a larger than life grey visage of; well you know, the incredible and famous Edgar Allen Poe. For our guys, it wasn’t much of a surprise. Indeed, at home in Russia they could recall a talking tortoise and a chatty fish, after all.
But the thing that chilled them to the core was when the poet shouted; “Nevermore!”
It was indeed a magic word; of that Tanya and Kasha were sure. For no sooner was it spoken when it was followed by a rude noise from the hole, followed by a midget Viking, a tiny American troll.
Our Russian voyagers were more than a little suspicious. He had arrived like every other clever domovoi, nonetheless he looked for all the world like a pint sized American boy.
“George Bailey is the name and double trouble is my game” chirped the blond apparition.
“Well, I declare,” said our Princess who couldn’t help but stare. Kasha jumped up and gave the troll a sniff, taking time for more than a whiff; she examined all of those critter crevasses, so you would think he was covered with molasses. There are many things that people won’t tell that can be seen by dogs with an ever clever and keen sense of smell.
Kasha whipped her ears and let out a snort; she had to clear her nose before she could report. She raised her head, lowered her tail, ruffled her fur and started to wail.
“Holy mackerel;” said Tanka “does he smell that bad?”
“No he doesn’t, he doesn’t smell like that, at least thank goodness, not like a cat. But he does smell funky like wet hair or a dry frog; good grief, I’ve got it, he smells like a great hairy dog;” said Kasha.
Well Tanya took a whiff herself and sure enough he was a little punky but she was quite sure it was the essence of monkey. Having a great shock of russet hair on her head she knew all about hair that that could be said. Say what you will or wait and contemplate; she was fairly certain that George Bailey was a primate.
She also knew for certain there was nothing to fear, yet surely there was something missing here. She didn’t know what it was or something he had trot in, but she was pretty sure there was something this dwarf had forgotten. So she thought the prudent thing to do was to start the whole meeting anew.
“Did you forget something, just as we came, pray tell me again, say it once more, what is you name?” said the princess.
The troll started to hop and dance, almost as if he had ants in his pants. “What a clever girl,” said he. “I gave you two names but there are actually three. If you’re not happy with just two, there’s only one proper thing to do. Before George and Bailey they called me Keagan and as you now see, I leave it out for a prudent reason. You have no idea how things have gone for me since my parents named me K-G-B.”
Well upon hearing this, you could have knocked Tanya and Kasha over with a little tortoise wind. He wasn’t just him; he was also an acronym. What a coinkidink thought the pair; they wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. Who would though in the world of weird boys, one would turn out be a domovoi. Not just any old troll from a hole but a genuine spook, mendacious and droll.
Of course, Russians are very emotional. Try as they might to wear reason in every season, as every one knows, their favorite clothes are poetry and prose. What keeps Slavs in the pink, most assuredly is not how often and deeply they think. Nothing is simple and nothing is boring when we leave the logic and send our souls soaring. If you must know who and what is real, turn off your head and let your heart feel. This was one of those moments.
Tanya and Kasha were quite saddened and unhappy without really trying. Meeting an American elf made them feel like crying. When you mix new with true you often get blue. Meeting an American troll put them in a bit of a hole. You might call it the sad joy - of remembering – their own Major Dom O’Voi. It’s very difficult to forget a tortoise that will live longer than you do.
Tanya also was thinking that these Yankees never stop; just when you think you have a leg up, they’re back on top. Before they could investigate cheeseburgers and soft toilet tissues; they now had to deal with fairy tale issues. Up to that point, Kasha was pretty sure that all the little people and golden fishes, all those myths that might grant wishes, were peculiar to Russia. “Well, guess again sport;” Tanka declared with a snort.
“Now, now,” said Mister Poe; “let’s put away the Russian onions. It’s not like Americans invented bunions. No need to whine and wail, here’s the truth about fairly tales; myths are not things that didn’t happen then, they are more like things that happen over and over again.”
This got our Princess to thinking, some thing she often did without blinking. Has this guy got something up his sleeve or is he trying to say that truth is what we believe. “If this is so, what about ideas? And what about monsters and our other fears?” said the princess.
“My, oh my, I’ll give it a try,” said the poet. “Monsters are a curious race, and believe or not, they don’t just exist in any old place. If the truth be told, they’re not very bold. The reason they are so unkind, and often hard to find, is those deplorable living conditions in the back of your mind.”
Back of my mind, good grief, how unkind, thought Tanya. Kasha was also a little confused. He had always believed that scary cats and sneaky foxes came from dark places or stinky litter boxes. Well I guess you can never win if the worst comes from within, thought our fearless canine. So ogres and fiends are not just bad dreams, monsters live inside of us all; or so it seems!
“Yes, indeed,” said KGB who had been listening to the talk without and the thoughts within. “Some call them ogres and some call it sin, but the worst things about us are the creatures that escape from within.”
“And the worst thing about them,” said Poe with a shout, “is we all have the power to let them out!”
At that very moment the bushes exploded in a halo of green and out came the biggest, hairiest dog that anyone had ever seen. “That didn’t come out of my head,” said Kasha.
This huge hairy and curiously fragrant load marched right thru the group, into the street, and took a nap in the road.
“That’s what the smell was all about,” said the troll, “it’s just my dog Scout”.
----------------------
Well it’s been a while Agatha, but here we are again. After Jeffery died, it was hard for me to think about fun things. But I think we can continue now. Next time, the princess and her faithful dog continue their pursuit of those issues; cheese burgers and soft toilet tissues.
