The Prelude, The Bad Joke, the Moose Story With Postlude

THE PRELUDE

I really don’t know what a prelude is, but I thought it sounded good. When I read a book sometimes, the first chapter does not start until the author goes off on a tangent explaining the background of his story and introducing the characters. Personally, I think a story should start out with Chapter 1, but I guess each to their own. Now, the popular thing with movies is to have a Prequel. As best as I can tell, it is the story before the story which makes me think there will eventually be a Postquel to explain what happened after the story. Really, isn’t that what Chapters are for; to introduce the storyline, identify the characters and develop a story that interests the reader? I like the alternate endings. You can choose whether the good guy gets killed off or whether he lives happier ever after. I have read some books that hold my interest and then the author gets tired and comes up with a terrible ending. Publishers should closely edit the ending to stop awful endings. The same should hold true for movies. Braveheart is a fitting example. My son Kyle and I have watched Braveheart numerous times, and each time Mel Gibson gets pulled apart. Kyle knows the entire movie lines, and his favorite is when Mel Gibson is asked what he is going to do, and he replies: “I’m going to pick a fight.” My fingers are getting a little tired so I am going to wrap up this Prelude or Prequel since it has nothing to do with the Moose story and it could be perceived as rambling. As far as Mel Gibson goes, I have seen him in other movies and I marvel at the ability to put a person back together after he has been torn apart. Hang tough Mel and don’t accept any more movies with such drastic endings.  I guess I will end this prelude/prequel in the hopes that I have confused readers. My theory is if you confuse the reader, they will keep reading hoping that the story gets better. Sorry about that, this story doesn’t get much better. Maybe, I should have stopped at the prelude.

THE BAD JOKE

Not saying that I agree, but I have been told that when you tell a story that if you tell a bad joke up front that readers will be so grateful after struggling through the bad joke that they will keep reading and accept even a mediocre story because it is such an improvement over the bad joke. Alas, there are many more critics than authors of stories. Please forgive the bad taste of the joke below.

There once was a man who desperately wanted a son to carry on his legacy. He was so happy when his wife became pregnant. I have heard that pregnancy is incredibly stressful, and that giving birth is extremely painful. Don’t blame men, blame God. He designed this system plus it gives women a topic of conversation that they can tell over and over and compete with other women describing the pain. OOPS, I am sliding off track as I am prone to do, so back to the bad joke.

The man strutted around for 9 months proud as a peacock while his wife moaned and complained. Finally, the big day came, and he rushed his wife to the Hospital. His wife was in indescribable pain and forbid him from being in the birthing room with some choice words which I will not repeat here.

He paced back and forth in the waiting room for hours. Finally, the doctor came out and the man rushed to meet him with a dozen questions. The Doctor told him, mother and baby are fine, but we need to step in my office and discuss an issue with the baby. Is it a boy the man anxiously queried. Not exactly said the Doctor as they entered the doctor’s office

Oh, said the man, then it’s a girl. Not exactly, said the doctor. It is an unusual  situation; you should sit down. You see, your baby does not have a sex, it is neither a boy nor a girl. What the hell said the man. The doctor said the baby did not fully develop and it is just a  large  nine-pound eye without an actual body.  This is terrible said the man but at least the baby is healthy, right? After all, we can be grateful for that but what in the world could be worse? Well, said the doctor, “You see the baby is blind.”

 

OK, I apologize for anyone offended. People have written to me and asked what the parents named the Baby. EYE don’t know. 

 

THE MOOSE

You know the sad thing about telling a story is that some people do not believe the story is true. It is a risk I take as I have somehow, with some of my stories in the past, embellished a little to make the story a little more interesting. Sort of a mix of fiction and non-fiction blended together.  Not with this story but with some of my previous tales. I assure you that this story is a true accounting of an incident and a powerful lesson that I learned when I was much younger.

My wife and I bought a small house, and it had enough room for a couch, a kitchen table, and a living room area. That taught us that we needed a bigger house, but alas, we could not afford one when the Moose entered our lives.

I had obtained an old Cadillac which I had jacked up in the front yard in true North Carolina style. It was an ugly purple color, and the grass was growing around it as I did not have a weed eater at the time or a zero-turn mower. So, if you can picture a small front yard with a push lawn mower, a disabled Cadillac parked next to a large green Dinosaur in front of a small house then you can visualize the setting prior to the Moose. Oh, I should explain the dinosaur; it was not real, I bought it at a Sinclair Gas Station that was going out of business. I can tell you my wife was not really happy with my acquisition. She even used some harsh words about me spending the grocery money on what I called my Green Friend. I spent a lot of time just chatting with Dino. Initially, I had to sleep in the front yard on our old couch crowded up close to Dino.  Anyway, we had leftover pinto beans and a loaf of day-old bread to last us until payday. I did have to promise not to buy anymore large animals and that is when the Moose comes into this story. Now, I realize the rest of the story might be a little hard to believe but you have lasted this long , so hang in there. People say that truth is stranger the fiction. My wife would describe this story with more colorful words, but she can get pretty descriptive about some of my choices.

One day  a man in a pickup truck stopped by my house and asked me if he could purchase the purple Cadillac. I was reluctant at first, but he offered me the same amount of money that I paid. I tried to boost the price by telling him all the work I had done on the Caddy, which was a slight exaggeration. You see, I had planned to do a lot of work on the Cadillac, I had just not gotten around to it despite my wife’s reminders. I came from North Carolina, and we have a reputation for being tough traders. There is a custom to ask for something to boot in a trade. It is just an expression that means the person who wins out on a negotiation gets something in addition to the offered trade money or whatever. An example is if you are selling a car, you might offer to throw in a spare tire to boot to secure the deal.

Well, the man wanting the Cadillac obviously wanted the broken purple Caddy as his Dad had one just like it when he was growing up. I clearly had the upper hand and demanded something to boot in the trade. The man haggled for a while and finally broke down and asked me to come to his pickup with him. I followed him to his truck, and he opened the tailgate, There on the bed of his truck was a little wooden pen with chicken wire.

He reached in the pen and took out a small animal that looked like a cross between a little dog and a deer. Well, I am a sucker for small animals, and I asked the man what the animal was. He said it was a newborn Moose. He placed it in my hand and the little Moose barely covered the palm of my hand. The moose looked up at me with its big EYES (Don’t go back to the bad joke now). I told him that we had a small house and asked if the little moose would get very large. Oh no, he said. This here is what they call a miniature moose.

Well, I accepted the Moose as boot to the money deal on the Caddy.  I put the little cage with the moose in the back yard and fed it some breadcrumbs and some leftover sausage gravy. I cut him a water dish from a milk jug and filled it, and he laid on his pad and curled up.

The next day, the man came with a chain and a tow rope and took the purple Caddy. My wife was overjoyed and she gave me a hug and said now, look for a buyer for that ugly green dinosaur she said.  No way says I as I wrapped my arms around Dino’s neck. He is my close friend and people give directions by saying: “You drive by the house with the Green Dinosaur and go about a mile further to the Babtist Church and turn left.” She huffed at that. Later on, at supper, I told her how I had hoodwinked the man on the Caddy trade by demanding something to boot. What did you get said she?  Well, let me show you. I took her out back and opened the Moose cage. She did not look incredibly happy as she asked, what is it? I explained that it was a miniature moose. Won’t it get big? How will we feed it? Winter’s coming on, How will it stay warm? Do we have to name it? What were you thinking? I explained the North Carolina trading policy which she did not seem to understand. She peppered me with about a dozen other questions before going back in the house still muttering.  I did not understand all her concerns, after all, it was such a small critter.

Well, winter showed up with colder weather. I built a larger cage for the moose and put an old worn-out winter coat in the cage to keep the moose warm. It had started to grow, and it was slowly outgrowing the new cage. I was amazed that a miniature moose could grow so big.

Well, it started snowing and getting colder and when I went out to feed the moose, it was shivering. I explained to my wife that we had to bring it inside so it could stay warm by the wood heater. She did not take well to that remedy and told me I would have to find another home for the moose because our house was so small. She added that she had never heard of anyone having a moose in their house. I again explained that it was a miniature moose according to the man and it would not get larger than a dog and people had house dogs. She appeared to be skeptical at best. To be truthful, the moose was already as big as a big Saint Bernard Dog and our food bill had gone up a lot. I began to doubt the man who now owned my purple Caddy that the moose was a miniature moose. I called the zoo and asked how big a miniature moose would get. The Zookeeper laughed and told me that there was no such thing as a miniature moose. About that time, I was questioning my trading skills.

 

To make a long story shorter, the moose grew and grew. We had to put the  dining room table outside by our old couch and the Green Dinosaur . People started giving directions by saying you go past the house with the green dinosaur and the Kitchen table where the purple Cadillac used to be  and turn right at the next corner by the old Sinclair Gas Station.

The Moose grew antlers, and we were losing weight because the food money had to go to the moose. If it was hungry, it snorted really loudly and gave out a loud bray like a wounded mule. It drank gallons of water  and to be truthful the moose became so large that I could not get it out the front door to go potty. The antlers scrapped the top of the ceiling, and the sprayed popcorn texture was all over the rug. We rigged up a harness and a large hose to direct the moose pee out the window and strapped a plastic barrel around his butt for the poop. My wife appeared to become less and less happy and would try to get around the large miniature moose to get to the couch or to get to the kitchen. Once, the moose bumped her against the wall and trapped her. She was a little less than happy when I got home and finally pulled the moose over enough to free her. At one point she yelled that either the miniature moose or her had to go. I finally broke down and called the Zoo. They came out and looked at the large miniature moose. They said that they would have to remove a wall by the front door to get the moose out. It was still cold and I hung blue tarps where the wall used to be. People gave directions to go past the house with the green dinosaur , the kitchen table , the large pile of moose poop and go two blocks to the Dollar Store and turn left.

Life went slowly back to normal. We framed out a new wall in front and boarded it up. We replaced the rugs where the moose had had accidents on. We visited the miniature moose at the zoo, and he was the biggest of all the other Mooses. My wife told me not to believe anybody who claimed that there was any such thing as a miniature moose, and I agreed and told her not to worry that I had learned my lesson.

Well, my green dinosaur started fading and getting mildewed from the snow, so my wife complained that Dino was an eyesore. I loved that dinosaur, but I finally agreed to sell it. You know happy wife, happy life right? I put an ad in the paper with a picture of Dino.

One day a man hauling a large trailer with a hoist came by and said he was interested in buying the dinosaur. While  we were talking, my wife came out to observe the transaction. It seems the man collected large plastic and stone animals. He offered a fair amount of money and said he would throw in a small miniature baby camel to boot. That was when my wife took over the haggling and said Thanks but no Thanks. Money for dinosaur. No boot, no camel, no moose, or any other  miniature anything. I interrupted and tried to explain North Carolina trading etiquette to her, but she pushed me out of the way and helped the man put a lifting harness on Dino. I cried as the man drove off with my Green Dinosaur, but you know happy wife, happy life.

POSTLUDE

I  made up that tile of POSTLUDE. There is no such thing. Well, actually, there is now.

I realize that certain parts of my story might cause some readers to scoff and maybe even claim that I went beyond literary embellishment rules but fortunately, I videotaped the events described  above. For $19.99 plus postage, I will send a VHS tape of my front yard with Dino and the kitchen table. I will include pictures of the miniature Moose as a baby, his growing up pictures, his first antlers, his poop bucket, and the pile of manure in the front yard along with video of my wife waving goodbye to Dino strapped down on a trailer.

But wait. If you pay just for additional shipping and handling, I will include another tape along with a small burlap bag of genuine miniature Moose poop. Act now!

 

FIN