User:THE/p4
Chapter One: An Unfortunate Accident
The next hour was a blur. Melville ran back to the dumpster, grabbed the newspaper with pictures of food from which he would get his meals, and stuffed it down his pants. Then, he climbed out of the dumpster and closed it, wondering if he'd ever return to it again.
Then, he started walking. Slowly at first, but as he walked more, he felt energized. If this was the last hope for his ironing board, then he'd need to go faster! He started running.
He ran past the junk yard with a shudder. He passed by the nursing home, where his mother was being read to by a confused-looking nurse. Melville called "hello" to her as he passed.
Then, he ran past a police car, where, to his horror, Finny was sitting. Luckily, however, Finny was masturbating as he watched college girls cross the street, so Melville was able to run by unnoticed.
Melville was also unpleasantly surprised when he saw his own face on a wanted poster, with a caption saying "This man is highly dangerous. He escaped from prison recently. He's armed with a banana. Stay on your guard!" He quickened his pace, and had soon reached the highway that Jarlice's mountain was supposed to be next to. He began walking alongside the highway, and had soon left the town.
Melville was now on his own, walking through what was mostly open farming country. He held his ironing board tightly as he thought of Jarlice. What would this "goddess" be like when he finally met her? He also anxiously thought of his mother back at the nursing home. He STILL owed the nursing home a million dollars. How could he ever pay off this tremendous debt?
After a day of walking, Melville bumped in to a boulder. "OH NO!" he screamed, furious, "My way is blocked! I'll have to go back and find another route!"
He turned around and walked for 12 hours, before remembering that he could walk AROUND the boulder. He returned and walked around it.
Soon, night fell. Melville walked for a while before collapsing in exhaustion. Melville said, "I wish I'd brought a tent!" He found a piece of old tissue by the side of the road, and propped it up with a twig. "This'll have to do!" he said, attempting to wriggle under the tissue and squashing it in the process. He slept with the pieces of the ironing board in his arms. It was a fitful night, plagued by nightmares of Officer Finny and the junk yard.
Melville awoke early that morning and ripped a photo of coffee out of the newspaper. He swallowed the paper and then stood up and sprinted off down the highway again.
The morning passed slowly as Melville's sweat trickled down his body. "Hang in there, honey, only a couple hundred thousand miles left to go!" Melville said cheerfully to his wounded ironing board. He was running through a patch of forest, when suddenly a horribly familiar voice screamed "FREEZE!"
Officer Finny stepped out from behind a tree, holding a machine gun. From behind the other trees stepped a group of armed soldiers. "That's him!" yelled Finny, "That's Melville Amsterdam! SEIZE HIM!"
Melville thought fast. "I'm not Melville Amsterdam!" he said, "I'm a carrot!"
"Oh," said Finny, "False alarm. Alright men, get behind the trees while we wait for the REAL Melville Amsterdam."
Amazed at his luck, Melville kept jogging.
Chapter Two: An Unfortunate Monstrosity
Four days later, Melville was still traveling through agricultural country. He was running low on food supplies--he had ripped out the majority of food pictures in his newspaper. He realized as he flipped through the newspaper that he only had a few pieces of food pictures left, and then he'd be completely out of food.
After another day, he was growing even hungrier. He desperately needed food! Fortunately, he saw a grocery store about a hundred feet ahead. He staggered inside, grabbed a grocery cart, and filled it to the top with food.
He got to the checkout line, where an obese man was scratching himself absently. He held a bottle of whiskey in one hand. "Hello!" said Melville, "I'm buying this food! Here's my credit card!" Melville handed the man his shoe.
"This doesn't look like a credit card to me!" said the man, frowning at the shoe. "But whatever, I'm a bit drunk. Here, just sign this paper." Melville signed it, took back his shoe, and immediately grabbed an apple from the grocery cart. He bit it, only to discover that it was made of plastic.
"What the heck?" said Melville, as the man behind the counter burst in to hysterical laughter.
"TRICKED YOU!" bellowed the man.
"What?"
"There's no REAL food at this grocery store! It's all made of plastic!"
"Why? Is it some kind of practical joke?"
"Yeah, it's a practical joke. Except it's MUCH funnier than most practical jokes, because it takes advantage of the hungry!"
Melville felt a mixture of fury and confusion.
"I'm Beefy Snuck. What's your name?"
"Melville Amsterdam."
"Good to meet you, Melville! Come on, I'll show you my farm!"
Melville, still angry about the plastic food, followed Beefy in to the farmhouse, where they sat down in the kitchen.
"Care for some REAL dinner?" asked Beefy. Melville said yes, and Beefy served him a steak. Beefy himself filled a plate with lawn clippings, and began eating them as he sat down opposite Melville at the dinner table.
"Why are you eating grass?" asked Melville.
"Because," said Beefy, "It helps me feel more in touch with my cows. Cows are my pride and joy at this farm. I'll show you some of the experimental cows I've been breeding when we finish eating. I love my cows. I sleep with them in the barn when my wife lets me." He pointed then at a photo on the counter, "That's my wife over there, by the way. That was our wedding day. I am proud to inform you that me and my wife have been happily married for over two weeks, which is a record for this entire county. I broke my previous record of a week and a half."
Melville looked at the wedding picture. There was something odd about Beefy's wife...was it her strangely shaped eyebrows? Her skinny lips? Or was it, perhaps, that she had a cow's udder on her chest instead of breasts?
"I notice your wife has a cow's udder," said Melville conversationally.
"WHAT?" said Beefy. He leapt to his feet and ran over to the photo. "Well I'll be!" he said, "You're right! HEY BACONETTE! GET IN HERE!"
His wife walked in to the kitchen, the udder dangling grotesquely from her chest. "What is it, Beefy?"
"You've got a cow's udder!"
She looked down, and looked slightly startled. "I never noticed that before!" she said, "I guess I do!"
Melville felt his anger about the plastic food fading away. Now that he had a piece of steak in front of him, and his hunger was fading away, he felt his anger replaced with a polite interest in this family he was visiting.
"So what was it you said about experimental cows?" asked Melville to Beefy.
"Oh, I'll show you!" said Beefy. He led Melville in to a massive pasture behind the farm. It was a gorgeous pasture with rolling hills and flourescent yellow flowers.
"This is their domain," said Beefy, "I can summon them by urinating." He unzipped his pants and peed on the grass, and surely enough, the sound of thundering hooves became audible over the hills. Soon, a massive crowd of multi-colored cows had arrived, staring blankly at Beefy and Melville.
Melville approached a bright green cow. Beefy said, "THAT one has Sprite in its udders instead of milk. Go ahead, test it!" Melville pulled on the udder with one hand, and a transparent, bubbly liquid came squirting out. He caught some in his other hand and licked it. It was Sprite!
"How did you do that?"
"It's a secret," said Beefy, "I can't tell you the secret. Telling you the secret would dishonor my family's pride. Besides, I make a lot of cash from this. I WILL tell you that breeding him to yield Sprite wasn't easy. For a long time, I was only getting Sierra Mist."
Over the course of the next hour, Beefy showed Melville a wide variety of cows. A red cow milked ketchup. A yellow cow produced mustard. A transparent cow produced gasoline. "And this is only the beginning!" said Beefy, "I've got some even MORE ambitious cow projects to show you!"
He led Melville first to a cow that was an unpleasant shade of brown. "Watch this!" said Beefy. He knelt down and licked the cow's foot. At first, nothing happened. Then, the cow crouched down, and out of its rear end, something very large began to emerge. After five minutes, the cow had finished squeezing the object from its butt. The object was a bathtub. "That's right!" said Beefy, mistaking Melville's disgust for astonishment, "A cow that squeezes bathtubs out of his anus when you lick his feet. I'm telling you, Melville, this is a phenomenon that will sweep America! I haven't quite got the breeding right, though. The cow still only produces leaky bathtubs. I'll get it right eventually though."
Melville then spotted a bright blue cow on top of one of the hills.
"What about that one?" asked Melville.
Beefy grinned. "That one, my friend, will be the most revolutionary of ALL my cow designs. It will fly. A jet propelled cow! It'll revolutionize transportation. People won't need to fly in expensive airplanes any more! Instead, they can climb aboard one of MY purebred cows! Alas, I haven't got the flying cow design just right yet. It still needs a fair amount of work."
They went back inside. "So what are you doing out here, anyway?" asked Beefy.
"Taking my wife to Jarlice the goddess." said Melville, showing Beefy the broken ironing board.
"Indeed?" said Beefy, "I've heard of her. Never gone to see her though. Well, you're welcome to spend the night. Just watch out for the fifth stair on the way up, it's got a landmine on it."
Melville walked up the stairs, being careful not to step on the bomb on the fifth stair, then walked in to a luxurious bedroom. Melville gingerly placed the pieces of the ironing board in the massive bed and said, "Try to get some sleep, honey." Then he crawled under the bed to sleep on the floor.
Chapter Three: An Unfortunate Realization that "Monstrosity" doesn't rhyme with "Accident"
Melville awoke early the next morning, and went down to breakfast, where Beefy served him an omelette filled with more lawn clippings. Melville politely refused it.
"I should be going," said Melville, "Could I have some food?"
Beefy said, "Well...my farm is a business. I need to be able to make money. If I gave free food to every random starving person who showed up at my door, I'd be broke. I'll tell you what...you can keep that shopping cart full of plastic food, and PRETEND it's real food. And, as an added bonus, I'll give you some salt." He handed Melville a saltshaker.
"That's it?" said Melville, "That's all you're giving me?"
"Spare me the whining," said Beefy, "I've gotta go feed the cows."
"Wait!" called Melville, suddenly thinking of Officer Finny, "Could you do me a favor?"
"As long as it doesn't actually involve making an effort."
"There's a police officer after me. He's named Finny. If he shows up here, he might offer you money to tell him my whereabouts. PLEASE DON'T TELL HIM ANYTHING!!!"
"He might offer me money? COOL!" said Beefy, "Thanks for letting me know, I'll be sure to look out for him if he comes by!" He then ran off towards his pasture, leaving Melville furious. His stop at Beefy's farm had got him nowhere, had accomplished nothing. Melville was astounded by Beefy's indifference.
He sadly walked out of the farmhouse, saying goodbye to Beefy's wife (who was still staring at her udder, astonished), and back out to the highway. There with the pieces of his ironing board cradled in his arm, he started pushing the shopping cart down the highway.
He walked all day. The scenery was beginning to change, and Melville felt an unexplainable sense of foreboding, even dread. He could feel that he was walking in to a very unhappy place. The green pastures and open fields were gone, replaced by a lifeless expanse of desert. The desert made Melville feel tremendously insignificent.
It was incredibly frustrating walking through the desert. It was simply flat. A flat expanse of nothingness. The flatness of the desert gave Melville the weird impression that, despite hours of walking, he hadn't moved at all. Almost as if the desert was a massive treadmill and he was stuck in the same place.
At the end of the day, he pulled a piece of plastic bread out of the shopping cart and took a crunching bite out of it. It didn't taste very good. "Needs salt," he said, sprinkling some salt over the bread. He took a bite. It still didn't taste very good. He sighed and kept crunching the plastic bread until his stomach was full. Then he said goodnight to his ironing board and curled up beneath the stars to sleep.
He awoke in the morning and found himself surrounded by army tanks. A man with a bazooka was standing over him.
"Get up," said the man. Melville recognized the voice. It was officer Finny. Had Beefy betrayed Melville? Or did Finny just happen to find Melville lying here?
Melville groggily got to his feet.
"You're under arrest!" said Finny.
"What for?" asked Melville.
"You're Melville Amsterdam!" said Finny.
Melville thought fast, then said, "No, I most certainly am NOT Melville Amsterdam."
"You aren't?" Finny looked uncertain.
"No, I'm not. YOU ARE!" Melville pointed at Finny as he said it.
"I am?" said Finny, "Then I should be in prison! ARREST ME!" The tanks surrounded Finny, and he was handcuffed and pulled in to one of them. The tanks drove off. Melville was glad that his little trick had worked, but was certain it wouldn't work for long. Finny was bound to eventually notice that he in fact was NOT Melville. And, if Beefy had told Finny where Melville was going, Melville would have to be on his guard at all times.
Chapter Four: An Unfortunate Realization that the last chapter had a really stupid title
Melville continued through the desert for about a week. It was exhausting, dreary work. The plastic food didn't nourish him very well. He constantly felt like he was on the verge of passing out. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of Jarlice, and the hope that she'd be able to fix his ironing board. He'd also occasionally think of his mother in the nursing home, and wonder vaguely if he'd ever be able to pay for her living there.
Late one evening, he sat down to dinner (a salted piece of plastic fruit). He ate it, then said to his broken ironing board, "I wish I had something to drink." He found an empty water bottle in the shopping cart, and filled it with sand. He then colored the sand blue with a crayon that was also inside the shopping cart. "Blue sand. I guess it's KINDA like water," he said, then poured some of the sand down his throat. It wasn't quite the same, but at least it was something.
His meal was interrupted when a helicopter equipped with large missiles landed about 20 feet away. Out of the helicopter leapt Officer Finny. "There you are!" he bellowed at Melville, "Thought you could fool me, eh? Thought you were clever, eh? Well, after a week in prison I remembered that I'm NOT Melville Amsterdam, I'm Finny. And now I've got you cornered, Amsterdam. I'm not letting you get away this time!"
Melville thought of how he had distracted Finny at the grocery store prison so long ago. "Hey, look, it's Britney Spears!" yelled Melville, pointing at a pebble.
"It IS her!" said Finny excitedly. He ran over to the pebble to ask for an autograph. Melville knew this was his only chance to escape. He wouldn't take the shopping cart, it was too heavy to run with, and he had to move quickly. So he scooped up the smashed ironing board and sprinted away. He sprinted through the arid desert until he finally collapsed with exhaustion in the dust.
Hours later, he awoke, and heard someone moving nearby. Was it Finny again? Melville knew he was too exhausted and weak to make another sprint. But as minutes passed, the person who was moving didn't say anything. There was no proclomation of Melville's arrest. Maybe Melville had gotten lucky. He opened his eyes, and saw a short, skinny man with a thick mustache. He was holding a video camera and pointing it at some rocks on the ground. There was a tent nearby.
"Hi," said Melville.
"Hey" said the man dully, not looking at Melville.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm filming these rocks for a reality show."
"A reality show? About what?"
"Rocks. It's called 'the rocks of a random patch of desert in the middle of nowhere.'"
"You mean, it's just a TV series about immobile rocks?"
"Yep. Each episode is an hour long, and just shows the rocks sitting there."
"That's pointless. You should film something more interesting."
"I know," said the man, turning off his camera, "But I have no ideas. I'm a producer, but my creativity has run dry. The TV network's executives..." he pointed over his shoulder at the tent, "...are on the verge of firing me. I've gotta come up with a good idea for a reality show, or I'll lose my job. But rocks are the only idea I've had so far."
Melville felt dizzy as he tried to stand. "Do you have any food? I've been eating nothing but plastic and paper for weeks."
The man looked shocked. "Okay," he said, "I'll get you something from the tent. My names Greg, by the way."
Greg walked in to the tent, and came out holding a delicious-looking turkey sandwich and an ice cold glass of lemonade. "Here you go, dude," said Greg, holding out the food and drink for Melville to take. Just as Melville was about to grab them, however, Greg's face suddenly changed; a grin flashed across it and he pulled the food and the lemonade out of Melville's reach.
"Why did you--?" began Melville, but Greg interrupted him.
"HEY!" he bellowed toward the tent, "Get out here, guys! I've got a GREAT idea for a new reality show!"
A bunch of old men in fancy suits emerged from the tent, most of them clutching juicy-looking sandwiches.
"What do you want NOW, Greg?" asked one of the old men in a mocking voice, "What stupid show idea are you gonna toss at us now?"
"This one isn't stupid!" said Greg, "It's BRILLIANT. Look at this weirdo who just wandered in!" he pointed at Melville. "He's starving. I was going to give him food, but then I got a better idea. We can follow him through the desert and film him as he suffers! Then we'll broadcast it live under some dramatic title. It's perfect! We can sit here and feast on delicious food and drink delicious drinks while we watch this random guy starving. And I'm sure it'll be a HUGE hit. People around the world will love to watch someone else going through a traumatizing ordeal from the comfort of their own homes."
The old men were all grinning as the brilliance of Greg's idea revealed itself to them. "Greg, you're a genius! This is gonna make you a VERY rich man!" said the same old man who had mocked Greg moments earlier.
"What's your name, weirdo?" asked one of the old men to Melville.
Melville couldn't give them his real name, especially if it was going to be on television. After all, if it was on TV, then Officer Finny might see it. He came up with a clever fake name to give them. "I'm Melville Hamsterdam," he said.
"And where are you going?" asked Greg.
"To Jarlice's mountain, so I can save my love," he said, showing them the ironing board.
"Okay," said Greg, pointing the camera at Melville, "Well you just go right ahead, and we'll follow along!"
Chapter Five: An Unfortunate Realization that This Chapter's Title is even MORE stupid than the previous one
If Melville's voyage had been strenuous before, it was downright nightmarish now. He walked along, desperate for something to eat, stooping down to eat a handful of dirt occasionally; all the while, the film executives were eating grilled chicken, roast beef, juicy salads, and pies.
"The show's a huge hit!" said Greg with delight, after a phone conversation with the television studio, "They've canceled American Idol and replaced it with our show."
The old men all cheered. Melville coughed.
This continued for yet another week. The more Melville walked, the more disillusioned and confused he felt. He felt like he was losing touch with reality. Soon, he was crawling on his hands and knees. He crawled past an unidentifiable skeleton in the dirt.
"Do that again!" called Greg to Melville, "I didn't get a good shot. The skeleton's really dramatic."
"I can't do it again!" said Melville, "I need to save my energy! I'm still so far away from the mountain!"
"I SAID, DO IT AGAIN!" bellowed Greg. He grabbed Melville's ankle and dragged him backwards, past the skeleton. Melville crawled by again, and this time Greg got a good shot.
Now, Melville was flat on his belly, pulling himself slowly forward. The studio executives, most of them sipping champagne, were thrilled by this. "It's so dramatic," said one of them, "And so pathetic. Great television."
Melville finally came to a complete hault, lying motionless on the ground.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered to his ironing board, "I don't know how I'm gonna get you to the mountain. I really have no idea."
He felt himself drifting on the edge of consciousness. He buried his head in the pieces of the ironing board, so he wouldn't have to look at the camera that was several inches from his face. "I love you!" he said in to the ironing board. He remained there for he didn't know how long. Then he heard a distant sound. Sirens. Finny was back.
With all the effort he had left, Melville rolled over and then sat up. A line of police cars had arrived. Officer Finny got out of one of the cars, and beside him was Beefy.
"Okay, Beefy," said Finny, looking at the film crew. "Which one is Melville?"
"Give me the money first," said Beefy. Finny handed Beefy a large clump of cash, which Beefy stuffed down his pants. Then, he walked up to the film crew, and looked first at Melville, then at Greg.
"THIS is Melville!" said Beefy, pointing at Greg.
"WHAT?" said Greg, lowering the camera.
"And these old guys are Melville's accomplices!" said Beefy, pointing at the studio executives, who made outraged noises of denial.
But Finny was not to be fooled. He stuffed a sock in Greg's mouth, and had the other policemen tackle the executives.
"Don't let them get away!" called Finny to his other officers, "Tie them up if you have to!" Finny and his officers brought Greg and the TV producers in to their cars and drove away, leaving Melville lying on his back and staring up at Beefy.
"I'll get you some food," said Beefy as he walked in to the abandoned executive's tent. He returned with an armful of sandwiches. Melville started eating immediately. He ate for a long time. After finishing, he still felt somewhat weak, but he did feel stronger than before.
"You saved me," said Melville to Beefy. "I thought you didn't particularly care about me."
"I didn't. Not at first. But then I started watching that TV show. I saw how determined you were to take your wife to that mountain. And I thought of how I saw you sleeping under the bed, and letting the ironing board use the bed. I felt confused. It wasn't until I saw you stop moving that I made up my mind to save you. I felt so bad for you, lying there, completely motionless, apologizing to the ironing board for failing her. I had to help. So I called the cops and asked for Finny, since I knew Finny was looking for you. I told him that I could take him to you. And you know the rest. Now you won't have to deal with Greg anymore, because he's in prison. AND you won't have to deal with the cops, because they think they've caught you."
Melville felt a rush of gratitude to Beefy. "I can't even begin to thank you."
"Well, Finny gave me a load of cash," said Beefy, "That's a pretty good reward, I think. But, Melville, I think I can provide you with even MORE assistance. Remember my cow experiments?"
"Of course," said Melville.
Beefy reached in to his pocked and pulled out a small blue ball. He rubbed the ball in his armpit, then put it on the ground. Slowly, the ball started to increase in size, and as it did, it seemed to...unfold. And then, before Melville's eyes, there stood a majestic blue cow.
Chapter Six: An unfortunate realization that THIS chapter's name isn't stupid at all
Melville blinked at the blue cow. "What the heck?" was all he managed to say.
"It's a collapsible cow," said Beefy, "It collapses to a convenient pocket size. WHY anyone would ever want a pocket-sized cow is beyond me. But IF they wanted one, I could give them one. But you probably remember that I was working on a jet-propelled, flying cow?"
"Yes," said Melville.
"Well, this is it. And it works. I'll show you once we get to Jarlice's mountain."
"We?"
"I'm coming with you, of course. I couldn't leave you alone, not now. Climb aboard."
They climbed on to the cow together.
"In order to get it to move, you have to vomit," said Beefy. Together, he and Melville vomited, and the cow started galloping toward the mountain.
The next three hours were a blur of delight for Melville. He clutched the ironing board's remains tight to his chest. They were going to Jarlice's mountain! At last! The cow moved with an astounding speed. More than once, the cow actually passed moving cars on the highway.
Eventually, the cow came to a hault at the foot of an incredibly tall mountain.
"This is it," said Beefy. Beefy climbed off the cow, leaving Melville alone. Melville stared up at the vastness of the mountain. Dread crept back in to Melville.
"There's no way I could climb that mountain," said Melville, "There's absolutely no way. I'm not strong enough. I'd need to recover first."
"You don't NEED to climb it!" said Beefy, "I already told you! THIS is a jet propelled cow! It can fly!"
Beefy handed Melville a key. "What do I do with the key?" asked Melville.
"Stick it in the cow's nose and give it a twist. That'll turn on the cow's motor."
Melville inserted the key in to the cow's flourescent blue nose, and flames erupted from the cow's udder. The jets from the udder lifted the cow in to the air. "Good luck!" bellowed Beefy as the cow rose slowly upwards.
Up, up Melville rose, through patches of cloud, until Beefy was no longer visible on the ground below. Finally, the cow had arrived at the top of the mountain, and it landed with a soft "thud" on a small patch of dirt. Melville climbed off the cow, and looked around. Where was Jarlice?
Chapter Seven: An Unfortunate Return of Cogent And Noodle
There was nothing at all on top of the mountain, except for a single tree. "Hello?" said Melville, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, "Is there anyone up here? Jarlice?"
Slowly, a naked woman emerged from behind the tree. She had tangled, bushy, curly black hair. On her head.
"Are you Jarlice?" asked Melville.
She nodded silently.
Melville knelt down at her feet and put his smashed ironing board on the ground in front of her. "I'm madly in love with this ironing board, and I can't lose her! I can't! Fix her, please!"
Jarlice bent over and looked at the ironing board, then she looked at Melville with a sadness so powerful that Melville had to look away. Melville knew it before she said it.
"There is nothing I can do."
Melville felt an empty, hollow shock. He couldn't speak. She seemed to realize this.
"Many people come up here to speak to me. Most of them ask dumb questions about their love lives, such as whether or not they should use the same toothbrush as their spouse (I tell them not to) or which knee they should kneel on when they propose (I tell them neither--I tell them to stand on their heads). But very few ask me about the loss of a loved one. And yet, it's a part of love, a part of falling in love. Being in love with someone means eventually losing them. It's hard, it's hard to think about--but it's true. It's true."
Melville stared blankly at the smashed ironing board.
"What do I do?" asked Melville.
"I don't know." she said.
"You don't know?" said Melville, his voice trembling, "I just voyaged across half the freakin' continent to talk to you. Are you a goddess or aren't you?"
"Of course I'm not a Goddess. I'm just a woman on a mountain who says wise things occasionally."
"Why...why..."
"Why do people say I'm a Goddess? Because people like the idea of divine beings. The idea of the Universe as a cold and meaningless place frightens them."
"I can see why," said Melville, thinking of the vast expanse of desert in which he had nearly starved, and which lay beneath the mountain all around them now--an endless plain of dust.
"Love is where it's at," Jarlice said, "Love brings beauty to our lives and brings us a happiness that can come from nothing else--not from money, not from fame, not from success, not even from owning the entire original Star Trek series on DVD."
"But...I've lost my love."
Jarlice looked deeply sad again. It was a long time before she spoke. Then, she reached in to her bush of hair (on her head) and pulled out a piece of paper. She handed it to Melville and said, with tears in her eyes, "I've lost my love too."
Melville looked at the paper. It was a photograph of a much younger Jarlice holding something small and cylindrical. "Is that a hot dog?" asked Melville.
She nodded. "His name was Clarence. I found him one day, next to a garbage can outside a small restaurant. He was alone and cold. I took him in, and we got to know each other. We slowly fell in love. Those were the most beautiful days of my life. We did everything together. We got married, despite my family's objections."
"What happened?" asked Melville.
She sobbed once, then steadied herself and said, "I took him on a hike up this mountain. I carried him up. Then, I put him on the side to take a photo of him...and...and..." she sobbed again, "...a gust of wind blew him off."
Melville knew exactly how she felt. "I'm sorry," he said.
"I went down after him!" she continued, "But there wasn't...much left. I took him to a doctor, and he said there was nothing he could do. That was it, for me. My life was over, almost as if all my happiness and ambition had plummetted off that cliff with Clarence. I got rid of all my possessions. I either burned them or sold them to Wal Mart. Then I climbed up to the top of this mountain, ripped off my clothes, and sat down to think things over. I've been here ever since, grieving, screaming, sobbing, wishing things had turned out differently, and above all, missing Clarence so much I feel like I'll die. But I feel like it would be disloyal to him if I left the mountain. I feel as if leaving the mountain would mean truly facing the fact of his loss."
"Loss," said Melville, his eyes fixed on the ironing board, "Why does it have to happen?"
"Don't ask me," said Jarlice, "I have no idea. Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you, I'd only give you vague hints. That's the way I work."
"Why?"
"Why do I only give people vague hints? Because I have faith that they can figure things out for themselves. Besides, sometimes you can't just have everything handed to you. Sometimes you have to earn your happiness. Sometimes you have to suffer for your wisdom. Sometimes you NEED to find things out the hard way, because if you found them out the easy way, you wouldn't appreciate them."
They sat in silence a long time.
"How long have you been up here?" Melville asked her.
"I don't know. You sort of lose track of time when you're constantly miserable. I'd say I've been here for over ten years, anyway."
"Still thinking things over?"
"Yes. You can join me if you want. We can spend the rest of our lives up here, mourning for the loves we both lost."
Melville thought of himself, perpetually sitting atop this mountain, staring down at the barren wasteland, longing for the ironing board he'd never kiss again. Was this the only way to deal with loss?
"No," said Melville, "I'm going down off this mountain. And you're coming."
"What?" she looked terrified.
"Do you still love Clarence?"
"Yes, of course."
"Would he have wanted you to ruin your life because of his death? Would he have wanted you to spend eternity drowning in your own misery? Or would he have wanted you to get out there and LIVE?"
Jarlice looked stunned.
Melville continued, "Love doesn't end with death. You still love Clarence. LIVE for him! Get down from the mountain, meet new people! There are a whole lot of weird, wonderful people in the world to be met! Don't destroy yourself over him. He wouldn't have wanted it that way."
Jarlice said, "uhh...okay." But she looked uncertain. "I have nothing to wear."
Melville slowly looked down at the smashed ironing board. Then he looked up at Jarlice. "Wear my ironing board," he said.
"What?"
"Use it to cover your body. I've got tape." Melville indeed had tape in his pocket, which he handed to Jarlice.
Jarlice picked up a piece of the ironing board and started examing it--turning it to many odd angles which Melville himself had never turned it to. "What are you doing?" asked Melville.
"I want to make sure I REALLY know her before I wear her," said Jarlice, "I want to see her from all angles. I want to know all parts of her. After all, she is doing a very noble thing for me." Jarlice taped the first piece to her body, then picked up a second piece. As she rotated it, she suddenly froze, and an odd expression flashed across her face--was it a grin?--but then it was gone, and she taped that piece to herself. Eventually, her entire body was covered in the pieces of the ironing board.
"Let's go," said Melville, climbing back on to the hovering cow, "Climb aboard!" Jarlice took his hand and together they sat on the cow as it slowly lowered itself back to Earth.
Chapter Eight: An Unfortunate Realization that this story is absurdly long
They touched down on the ground, and Jarlice dismounted the cow. She slowly removed the ironing board from herself, and piled the pieces gently on the ground beside the highway.
"Hey," said Beefy, "She's NAKED!"
"Excuse me?" asked Jarlice, looking disdainfully at Beefy.
Melville said, "Beefy's a good guy, Jarlice. He's a bit crude at times, but he has a noble heart. Please tolerate him." Melville turned to Beefy and said, "Beefy, this is Jarlice. She needs a place to live."
"Well..." said Beefy, "There's room on the farm. She could sleep in the guest room. She could do a lot of work around the house, I expect."
Together, Jarlice and Beefy climbed on to the blue cow.
"Good luck, Melville," said Beefy.
"Thank you, thank you very much," said Melville. He looked next at Jarlice, who still looked uncertain. "Write to me, Jarlice," said Melville, "Promise. I'll wait here for your letter. I'll stay here with the ironing board, and I'll wait. Write to me!"
"okay..." said Jarlice. Then the cow sped off.
Melville was now completely alone in the shadow of the mountain. What now?
He knelt down beside the ironing board's smashed remains. There was no saving her. Just like Jarlice's hot dog. Yet Melville could not, would not, face the fact. He simply sat there, staring at the smashed remains. He felt as if it would be disloyal to do anything other than sit there and look down at the remains. He didn't move. He just sat there as the cars whizzed by on the interstate. He didn't do anything for three days.
Then, a mail truck arrived. A disheveled looking mail man climbed out.
"I was told I'd find a man here beside a smashed ironing board," said the mailman. "Here's your letter, sir."
"Thank--" said Melville, but the man had already jumped back in to his truck and drove away.
Melville stared at the envelope. He didn't have a letter-opener! He couldn't open the envelope! Melville cried over this unfortunate fact for four hours before remembering that he could simply rip the envelope open by hand. He did so, and inside was a new photograph. This one was of Jarlice holding what appeared to be a pancake. Melville flipped it over to find a note.
Melville reread the letter several times. Indecision and love don't mix well. He knew what THAT meant. It meant that he couldn't keep doing what he was doing now--sitting by the ironing board and not doing anything. At some point, he would have to stand up. At some point, he'd have to walk away. But he would keep her in his heart, that was the key.
He thought of Jarlice and her new, happy life, despite the lost hot dog. He thought of Beefy, with his two-week marriage. They were living. So would he. "I'll live for you," he said to the ironing board. And he began to dig with his hands. He dug deep, and as he did so, the sun began to set. As he dug, he discovered some small, round objects. "Seeds," he said numbly. He tossed them aside and kept digging.
Finally, he had a grave that he thought was deep enough. He climbed back out, covered in the filth of the vast, meaningless desert. The time had come to lay his ironing board to rest. But first...he thought of the letter's words: "when the time comes to say goodbye, be sure you REALLY know who it is you're saying goodbye to." He thought of how Jarlice had individually examined each piece of the ironing board by rotating it to weird angles before putting it on her body. With this in mind, he picked up a piece of the ironing board and began gingerly rotating it to every imaginable angle, and as he did so, he kissed the entire surface of the piece. "I love you," he said, "You were my whole life, and you always will be." He lay the piece to rest in the grave, and before he could stop himself, he was crying uncontrollably. He would give her the goodbye she deserved. He picked up the next piece, and did the same thing--he rotated it all around in his hands, kissing it all over, then lowered it in to the grave beside the other piece. He picked up the next piece and began rotating it.
But, suddenly, something caught his eye. Something he had never noticed before. A small red dot in an obscure corner of the ironing board. He leaned in closer to read the text above the dot. "If this ironing board ever breaks, push this button."
Melville quickly extended a trembling finger and pushed the small red button. Suddenly, the pieces of the ironing board all began vibrating violently.
He dropped the piece from his hand and watched, astounded, as all the pieces of the ironing board began to move towards each other. The two he had dropped in the grave flew back out. The pieces all clumped together in to what at first was an indistinct mass, but, after a few seconds, had fully formed in to Melville's ironing board, looking more beautiful than it ever had before.
Chapter Nine: A Newfound Love
Melville leapt on to the reformed ironing board, tears streaming down his face. He was laughing, he was crying, and his heart felt lighter than it ever had before. Never in his life had he been so overwhelmed with emotion. Never in his life has he felt a love so strong as the love he felt at this moment.
He threw his arms around the ironing board, which wasn't easy. Ironing boards are rather large. Melville managed, however.
Several days later, Beefy showed up to check on Melville. He brought a large supply of water. Melville relayed the events to Beefy, who looked happy, if not slightly puzzled. "I'll tell Jarlice," he said, "If she's not too busy having a long philosophical talk with Carl." Melville knew exactly why Jarlice spent so much time with Carl. He cradled his ironing board as he thought of the feeling.
He put Beefy's water to good use. He began sculpting a structure out of the desert sand. At first, it was flimsy and poorly made, but as Melville put more effort in to it, it began to take shape: a house. He finished it after two weeks. Then, he used the remaining water to plant the seeds that he had uncovered in the grave. After about a week, they sprouted in to dandelions.
After a long chat with his ironing board about their many incredible adventures, Melville got a strange idea. How might dandelions taste? He picked one and mixed it with water. The drink tasted astoundingly good. And so, he planted more dandelions, and set up a roadside stand selling "dandelion lemonade." It became a minor sensation amongst highway travelers. One day, he recieved the Dirk Weezle award for best small business which came with a cash prize of two million dollars. He sent half of it to the retirement home in which his mother lived, and used the other half to buy enough dandelion seeds to cover five square miles of the desert, including Jarlice's mountain, with flowers.
Melville loved the tranquility of his new life, but most of all, he loved the ironing board. Losing her for a short time had only served to magnify his love for her. At night he would cuddle her in his sand house, smelling the scent of the flowers that filled the air. He was filled with a feeling that is difficult to describe in words. I could use the word "joy," but joy isn't powerful enough. This was deeper than joy. "Love," perhaps. Love was definitely part of it. But that still doesn't quite do it. Maybe...thought Melville...maybe this is life. Life as it was truly meant to be lived.
Melville was very, very happy, and he lived a very long, very peaceful life alongside his beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful ironing board.