X the Lurker
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(8/20/01 11:23 pm)
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Natalie the Watering Pot
Someone at the AQMB requested that I repost my older short stories, so here is the only one I managed to keep. This story originally had no title, but I've been referring to it as "Bluejay the Pot" ever since. I'm using a different title now because Bluejay's complaints about being used as a character in my stories have made me a little reluctant to post any story which appears to be solely about one board member.
By the way, don't get intimidated. This story is way shorter than "The Bush Said Nothing".
All the pots, pans, and plates were becoming impatient. It was hot and stuffy in the kitchen. They were tired and wanted to go back to their cabinets, but they refused to do so until Natalie the Watering Pot arrived.
Natalie was a beautiful watering pot, with gold lining and a long spout that tapered upward at the end. She was used to water the geraniums and other fancy plants that decorated the living room. Most of the pots, pans, and other inhabitants of the kitchen admired her job, while others were less pleased.
It was getting late. Finally, a plastic bowl whom no one recognized stepped in front of the crowd and spoke up, with a falsetto voice.
"Helo! Muy naim iz Katie. Aye havv nooz abowt Natly thuh Wauturing Put."
Apparently, her spelling was so atrocious everyone could hear it in her voice. She continued. "Shee wil bee oriving heer inn thertee minnitz!"
"How do you know all this?" a skeptical china called out.
"Beekawz," said the transparent bowl, "Aye havv gottin incide infermashin frum thuh livving rume. Aye no sum frendz hoo no herr."
"What a liar!" cried a voice. The whole crowd turned, and standing right outside one drawer was a long, slender tableknife named Pip. The enraged utensil hobbled over to where Katie the Bowl stood. He pulled out a giant pamphlet with pages and pages of writing on it.
"This cowardly, fragile dish who calls herself Katie is actually a man-bowl by the name of Orac," explained Pip.
The crowd gasped. They knew who Orac was. He had helped gather lots of information about and pictures of Natalie the Watering Pot for them. That he could also be fooling them, dressing up as female kitchenware, was beyond their comprehension.
"This pamphlet I hold here contains a long laundry list of misdeeds Orac the Bowl has committed in the past," Pip the Knife said, waving the pamphlet in every one's face. To everyone's dismay, he proceeded to read the entire document in excruciating detail. "Let's see...on October 7, Orac pretended to be a female coke bottle named 'Heather' who was supposedly a close friend of Natalie...on November 24, he posted fake pictures of Natalie not wearing her lid...on December 11, he requested ceramic porn from..."
The desperate bowl cut him off in midsentence. "Yoo arr uh lier!" it screamed. Its voice was suddenly a lot lower than it had been.
"Oh, no I'm not," said Pip the Knife. "Everything I say is the truth, and you know it. What a pathetic excuse for a kitchen being you are. I'd rather slice onions than be you."
The crowd was tired of the bickering between the two, but they felt betrayed by Orac/Katie and decided to lynch him/her. But, like the last time this had happened, Orac escaped to a far end of the pantry where no one could reach him. He figured he could safely sneak back into their lives once they had forgotten about him.
Thirty minutes passed, and Natalie the Watering Pot still hadn't arrived. Now they knew Orac/Katie was a liar. Some of the assorted kitchenware started talking about politics. This annoyed the purists in the group, who wanted to continue to ruminate hours on end about Natalie's cute, slightly asymmetric spout-holes.
One of the cleverest debaters in the group was a large black pot by the name of Bluejay, who always had an assortment of facts and figures from his large bulky stomach. At this moment, he walked over to a small group of pots, pans, and food who were hanging out together.
"Where is everyone?" cried Bluejay the Pot.
Undamned the Fish spoke up. "Pleased to meet you, my name is..."
"Where is everyone?" Bluejay the Pot repeated. "I can't see or hear anyone."
Undamned the Fish tried again. "But I'm here, why can't you see or hear me?"
Bluejay suddenly noticed the fish. "Oh, you. You're that Christian fundamentalist, right-wing whacko. Now I can see you. What are you doing, standing alone?"
"But I'm not alone," exclaimed Undamned the Fish. "I'm standing here with Psycho the Green Bean, Radish the Radish, X the Kettle...."
"Aaah! X the Kettle!" Bluejay the Pot said. "You're the guy who loves the sound of his own argument and isn't grounded in real-world experience like I am. Now I can see you. Why are you two standing alone?"
X the Kettle looked at Undamned the Fish in confusion. "But we're not standing alone. We're here with Psycho the Green Bean, and...."
"Aaah, Psycho the Green Bean! The left-wing extremist! Now I see you."
Psycho the Green Bean started to object. "But..."
"And X the Kettle, I see that you're still black," said Bluejay the Pot.
"But you're black too!" X the Kettle exclaimed. "And what's that got do with....?"
Their arguing was promptly cut off as a new face emerged on the table on which the group stood. It was Pan 123.
"Hello, guys! I just got back from my home-schooling. Today, my mom taught me how to flip pancakes."
"I'm curious," said X the Kettle. "When does your mom teach you how to read, write, and count?"
"Well," said Pan 123, "I am learning to count. Today I flipped 1... 2... 3... pancakes...."
"Never mind," said Bluejay the Pot. "I believe that home-schooling has many advantages, but it tends to insulate one from exposure to different points of view. That's why you are almost as narrow as a plate.
"Oh, by the way," Bluejay continued, "anyone who disagrees with me about anything simply doesn't have as much real-world experience as I have."
"So what are you doing lately, Bluejay?" asked X the Kettle, trying to change the subject.
"I'm practicing a speech I'm going to give before the coffee pots, who don't agree with me on the way dishes should be cleaned. That's because they're a bunch of ignoramuses who haven't attended Harvard University like I have."
"What do you intend to do to persuade them to your point of view?"
"Well, listen to this opening. 'Friends, dishes, coffee pots, lend me your handles...'"
"Sounds good...er, sounds a bit familiar. Kind of like that Shakespeare play where a guy rouses a crowd by appealing to emotions rather than reason."
"And it worked, didn't it?" said Bluejay the Pot. "Anyway, I'm convinced this is an issue that needs to be settled by emotions. The coffee pots are wrong because they think only in terms of logic."
"That's great!" piped up Radish the Radish, who had been listening to the entire conversation. "All you have to do is declare the issue to be beyond reason. Then nothing your opponent says can have any effect! I like you, Bluejay the Pot."
But Bluejay could not see nor hear Radish the Radish, a moderate who could not be easily pigeon-holed into a category.
The conversation was interrupted a third time by Psycho the Green Bean, who suddenly declared it was time for him to do his daily rituals.
"I need to do my daily prayer before Ralph the Big Green Bean," said Psycho the Green Bean.
"Ralph the Big Green Bean is a traitor who made us lose our last election," Bluejay the Pot said. "He had no chance of becoming the winning candidate himself. All he did was draw support away from the candidate he agreed with the most, Al the Block of Wood."
"Al the Block of Wood caused Al the Block of Wood to lose the election," retorted Psycho the Green Bean. "Now, allow me to recite my daily prayer before Ralph the Big Green Bean. Here's how it goes: 'We accept on faith the following principles, that there ain't a dime's worth of difference between the two other candidates, that a Green Bean has a chance of winning the next election. And, finally, that we believe strongly that snowballs can succeed in making it through hell.'"
The rest of the group just groaned, but they didn't say anything more, for it was pointless to argue with someone so devoted to his religion.
[That's about as far as I could get, anyone who wants to continue the story, be my guest.]
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