Friday, February 01, 2008

Hints Of Spleen In Our Best Tureen




The two chookyes, bellies full and not a little sleepy, decided to call it a night. Stretched out on the warm desert, chookye style, with their back legs trained behind them and to the sides, knees bent luxuriously, they rested with heads on their forearms, rubbing their midsections slowly back and forth across the soft sand.

“Are we reticulated?” said the first, his chookye voice even squeakier than usual, the result of spending far too long in the baneberry patch.

The larger chookye opened one eye far enough to form a slit, failing to clear his transparent nictitating membrane, so puny his effort. “I don’t know… I guess I’ve never thought about it. Let me consider it and I’ll get back to you.”

No sounds sullied the moment save those created by friction between their bellies and the sand, the chookye version of Brahms. A full ten seconds passed before the senior chookye re-closed his barely-open eye and replied, “No, I don’t believe we’re reticulated. Somehow, I think that someone would have mentioned it before this.”

Again the lunar stillness fell over them in its fullness, emphasizing their contemplative aspects and soothing their all-too-overwrought chookye dispositions. Both chookyes, their species lacking the anatomical capability of sighing, continued to bask in the glow of their surfeit tummies, nevertheless.

At some point (it’s very difficult to quantify time in the desert night, and even if attempted, its significance would likely be pooh-poohed as unnecessary), junior chookye moved his torso slightly, allowing five or six gas bubbles to escape from his anal orifice and reverberate, announcing their arrival with a hearty staccato.

“Excuse me.” said junior, his voice revealing his embarrassment. Chookyes are nothing if not polite.

For his part, senior felt no obligation to reply further, his lack of response tacit acceptance of the apology, albeit totally unnecessary. Choosing instead to proceed with the more intellectual discussion of Junior’s previous question, senior offered, “Actually, the subject of our potential reticulation means squadoosh to me. I know of several creatures with true reticulant characteristics; a python, a giraffe or two, a shark and even a gecko, but chookyes they are not. I suggest you concentrate on something of greater substance.”

Whether or not junior chookye felt chastised by senior’s admonition, or for that matter felt anything at all, will forever remain a mystery. Handy as nictitating membranes may be for keeping sand out of the eyes, when shut they function only as an impediment to wariness. This night, under the desert moon, the forces of kismet stampeded the chookyes along with a herd of frightened praluks, the hooves of which brought about the demise of both junior and senior.

And this, my friends, is the way of the world. It’s neither terrible nor tragic; it’s just the way the chookye crumbles.






7 comments:

hfurness said...

I'm still laughing and now I need to clean my computer screen from spitting at it - but no need to worry - it is the way the chookye crumbles - a fan

karen said...

It's not nice to make an older woman laugh that hard...now, excuse me while I go change....

hehehee

amuirin said...

*groans*

Jo Janoski said...

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. The little buggers were so cute...but such a lovely sound when they squooshed...

Dan said...

Bob, all I can say is this piece gives further legitimacy to your proper choice of blog titles!

Poetman said...

Bob,

Maybe I am the only one who noticed, or maybe I am twisted too, or maybe it was subliminally intentional (deal with that metaphor) but the pic looks a bit like some alien and very strange male flesh, with the addition of two small teeth - alright laugh and tell me I am sick and so on - what ever, but that’s what I saw before I realized it was a chookye...

OK, I did not really realize it was a chookye - I have never seen or heard of chookyes before this memorable post...and I don't care if I never see or hear of them again...

But I did laugh, and I needed that…I have been too serious lately…aren’t some of our worries, concerns, and conversations rendered ridiculous when they are role played as animals…

Poetman

Bubba said...

Hi, everybody... Yea, this one is out there a bit. My only motive in creating the'chookye' (pronounced "cook-ie") was for the pure pleasure derived from knowing that someone got all the way to the last line before realizing s/he'd been had.

Dan-- Thank you for the reinforcement of realizing my blog is properly named. I've known it all along, but I don't know whether to be gratified or disappointed that you just now realize it. I simply am what I am...

Poetman-- The animal pictured is a real animal, the African molerat. If you Google it, you'll see similar photos. I pictured the fictional chookyes as close-to-the-ground rodent-types (although not intellectually indolent). I was hoping to evoke a titter, tee-hee, or guffaw from a few of you, even if you do now consider me freaking bonkers! Life is short... get over yourselves.

And thank you all for stopping by... next disappointment-- Saturday.