English 101
By
Angel of Harmony
Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, (Havana, Cuba to be exact)
there lived an old man who had not caught a fish in 84 days. And that's only where the story begins.
Since the old man was poor and could
not afford good food, his dinner that night consisted solely of a white snake
he had caught sunbathing on his doorstep.
As he partook of this meal, enjoying the flavor, there came a knock at
his nonexistent door. Thinking it must
be the boy, Manolin, the old man rose from his seat and went to let him
in. However, when he opened the
nonexistent door, (Please note that the man is senile. To him, the door is as real as can be.) he
found not Manolin but a different, unknown boy about the same age.
"Who are you? You are not the boy," said the old man,
surprised and suspicious.
"I am Pip," the boy responded, "and
I've come to ask if you could take me back to England in your skiff. I seem to have gotten lost after a rowboat
race with Bentley Drummle."
The old man, being the trusting and
helpful person that he was (not to mention a little off in the head, or else he
might have wondered how a boy lost in a rowboat in England could possibly have
ended up in Cuba) agreed to this without question, and they set off the next
day in the old man's little skiff.
As they rowed along, Pip began to
realize that the old man did not seem to be focused on rowing to England. But when he questioned the old man about
this, he simply said, "Do not worry, Pipolin.
First I must catch a big fish to prove to the other fishermen that I am
not salao. Then we can go to England."
So Pip (despite the fact that the senile man was obvious confused about his identity)
remained quiet for the rest of the trip.
A few hours later, around noon, the
old man felt a tug on his line. He knew
it was his big fish. But try as he
might, he could not pull it in, and Pip (being totally pathetic) was no help at
all. After arguing with his left hand
for a while, the old man finally began to talk to the fish instead. "Please fish," begged the old man, "let me
catch you."
And the fish, to the old man's great
surprise, responded. "No way! Do I look stupid?!" (For of course, the old man had eaten the
magical white snake that allows humans to communicate with animals.)
After recovering from his shock, the
old man thought about what the fish had said and decided that no, the fish was
probably not stupid. So instead, he
asked the fish, "Well then, can you pull us to England?" And the fish, glad that the man was not
looking to catch him, said yes.
And so the skiff continued on, with
the fish pulling ahead. The old man
passed the time by having conversations with anything he could think of- the
fish, his hand, birds, and Pip, who he still insisted on calling Pipolin. As they moved along, they passed another man
in a boat, a man with a clawed hand and a white bird flying overhead. However, this man was quickly gunned down by
Nazi fire, and the fish-pulled skiff continued on.
Finally, the skiff pulled into the
shore of the marshes near Pip's home, and its passengers quickly walked up to
the village, which was a bustle of activity.
As they walked through the small town the old man noticed many people,
among them a short-haired woman and her husband, who was holding a watch chain,
a small, backwards-crawling young boy and a crimson bird, and two sons (one of
which seemed very thankful, and the other very jealous) and their father. Workers could be heard singing various
songs, including the blacksmith anthem "Old Clem" and the spirituals "Steal
Away" and "Go Down Moses", and railroad tracks were being hammered in the
distance.
Pip, glad to be back in England,
suggested the old man come with him to Miss Havisham's house to meet the
eccentric, wedding dress-clad old woman.
The man obliged, and they soon arrived at Satis House. Once inside, Pip saw Estella and immediately
turned into a babbling idiot in her presence.
Meanwhile, Miss Havisham asked who the old man was. Pip explained, and Miss Havisham turned to
her new visitor. Without warning and
with a crazy look in her eye, she went off onto a tangent about how her heart
had been broken so many years before.
The old man listened intently and, when she was finished, said simply,
"Oh. I'm sorry about your
hardship. But if you want, I could
marry you. After all, you're already in
the dress, and my first wife died long ago."
Upon hearing this, Miss Havisham
jumped up from her seat by the fire.
"Really?" she asked. Then,
without waiting for an answer, she ran out the door, yelling behind her, "Ok
Estella, you don't have to exact my revenge on the male gender anymore!" Estella and Pip immediately began making out
in the corner by the dilapidated wedding cake, and the old man followed his new
fiancé to the church.
Once there, the ceremony began
immediately. Beautiful narcissus
flowers decorated the small chapel, and Mr. Wopsle's dramatic voice echoed off
the walls as he conducted the nuptials.
Then, as soon as the clerk declared them officially married, the
newlyweds ran back to the old man's skiff, plastered it with a "Just Married"
sign, and rowed off into the sunset for their honeymoon.
They
had been moving along for quite awhile, pulled by the friendly marlin, when
Miss Havisham (Who had decided to keep her maiden name) spotted a small island
on the horizon. "Oh honey," she
exclaimed grabbing the old man's arm, "Isn't that the cutest little
island? Let's stop there for our
honeymoon."
The old man looked thoughtful and
pulled out a map of the area. "It says
here that it's called 'Ship-Trap Island'.
What a cute little name! Yes, I
think we will stop there, darling."
And
so they pulled the skiff up to the rugged shore of the isle and stepped out
onto the rocks. After walking along
through the dense undergrowth for a while, they came upon a palatial chateau
right in the middle of the island.
"Look Santiago!" Miss Havisham
exclaimed with glee, "It's our honeymoon suite! Let's go check in!" The
old man didn't protest, and they went up to the giant front door with the
gargoyle doorknocker.
Almost immediately after they knocked, a
huge man swung open the door and stared down at them menacingly. He was dressed in flannel, like a
lumberjack, and he had a strange blue ox next to him. "Greetings strangers," he said, "the name's Paul Bunyan. You probably want to meet Zaroff, right? This way, please." And before the newlyweds had a chance to think, they were ushered
into a huge dining room with a gargantuan table, where a single, strange
looking Cossack was standing.
"Hello," said the Cossack, "My name
is General Zaroff." He ushered the new
couple into chairs, and a second later Paul Bunyan came back with two plates
piled high with food. "Please," said
Zaroff, "enjoy."
As Santiago and Miss Havisham ate
their meal, Zaroff began to tell of his magnificent hunting career, concluding
with a description of his latest conquest, when he hunted Rainsford, a fellow
hunter. He'd lost that battle, and had
even wound up thrown to his own dogs, but he'd luckily survived that ordeal
with only a few bumps, bruises, and missing chunks of skin, and he considered
it one of his finest hunts.
At this point the newlyweds were a
little suspicious of this strange Zaroff man, given that he'd just confessed to
hunting humans. Consequently, Santiago
began to urge his new wife to leave, but she was too excited about the fact
that Zaroff had dogs. A dog lover at
heart, she squealed with delight at this information and asked Zaroff what
their names were, completely ignoring her husband.
"Oh, I have many dogs," said Zaroff,
"but the ones I use most often are Sol-leks, Spitz, Billie, Joe, Kuna, and my
prize mutt, Buck."
"Oh, they sound lovely!" Miss Havisham cried.
"Alright honey," Santiago whispered,
gently steering Miss Havisham to the door, "It's time to go now."
"Go?" Zaroff looked surprised.
"You can't leave here, fools," he said.
"I have to hunt you now! Go, and
have a head start." And with that he
handed them two knives and pushed them out the door. "I'll see you soon!" he called after them.
Fearing for their lives, the old man
and woman began to run as fast as possible to their skiff. However, when they got there they found that
sharks had devoured their Marlin- and the entire boat. With no means of escape, they began to run
once again, this time just out of pure fear.
As they ran they happened to pass a rather disgruntled-looking crow in a
tree, and a very pleased-seeming fox with some cheese in its mouth. They also passed two other men, possibly
fellow huntees, but they were no help in escape because they happened to be
trapped under a tree branch.
The couple ran for days on end, and
their speed allowed them to evade Zaroff. However, soon enough he let out the dogs, and it all went downhill
from there. Before long the elderly
newlyweds came face to face with the dog team, and silence filled the tense air
as the groups stared at each other.
Suddenly, Santiago remembered an important
detail: he could still talk to animals!
So, he began to negotiate with Buck, the lead dog.
"Please Buck, don't eat us. You really don't want to," he said.
"Of course we want to. We're hungry," Buck replied.
"Well, if you're hungry…" the old man
searched his surroundings for suggestions, his glance falling over the two
incapacitated men. " There!" he said, "You can eat those
men. Just pretend you're wolves and
they'll never know the difference!"
Buck considered this. "Well," he said, "I suppose that's a good
idea. But I still want to eat one of
you. We're very hungry."
"Fine," Santiago replied, sighing
with relief. "Eat her. She's annoying." He pointed to his new wife.
"No!" Miss Havisham screamed, but it was too late. The dogs devoured her and the two men, and
Santiago was left all alone. Once again
he began to talk to the animals and his various body parts, as he trekked about
the island in search of a new escape route, mentally making a note to himself
to have Miss Havisham's bones sent back to Satis house, so they could be laid
out on her dining room table.
After much searching, the old man
came across another young boy, this one with hair the color of straw. "Hello, young fellow," said Santiago,
greeting the boy, "Who are you?"
"I am Jerry," the boy
responded. "I have integrity. And I also have a mother in Mannville."
"Is that so?" replied the old
man. He scratched his head, trying to
figure out a way to continue this conversation. "Well," he finally said, "We're a long way from Mannville. But perhaps you and I can find a way off
this island together."
"Ok," the boy replied, "But how will
we do that?" Suddenly, his face lit
up. "I know! I can chop wood really well.
Maybe we can take that wood and make wings, so we can fly off the
island."
The old man thought that was a
brilliant idea, so they set to work.
Soon each of them was the proud owner of a beautiful pair of wings, made
solely of wood and tree sap. "Now
Jerry, remember," warned the old man, "don't fly too close to the sun. The tree sap will melt, and you'll fall."
"I won't," promised Jerry.
But, apparently, Jerry did not have
quite as much integrity as he said he did, for not more than twenty minutes
after they left the island, he broke his promise and flew directly upward into
the sun. As predicted, the tree sap
melted, and he was hurled into a freefall toward the sea. Santiago, being benevolent, tried to save
the poor boy and flew down to catch him, but he was not quick enough and Jerry
drowned. Once again Santiago was alone,
and now he was in the middle of the ocean.
His wings were soaked and of no use, and he had no idea how to get home.
Suddenly, yet another young boy
appeared out of the water. Santiago was
shocked. "Who are you?" he asked, "And
why are you in the middle of the ocean?"
"I'm Jerry," the boy replied, "and
I'm trying to go through this underwater tunnel."
"How many Jerry's are there?" the
old man asked rhetorically, confused.
Jerry shrugged. "Well,
whatever," the old man continued, sighing.
"I must focus on getting home.
Do you know how I can do that?" he asked.
Jerry shrugged again, "I do not know
how to get you home," he replied, "but I can get you through this tunnel. Maybe you'll find answers on the other
side." And so he dove underwater once
again, and the old man, for lack of a better plan, followed.
The tunnel was long and hard, and
when Santiago came out the other side, he did not recognize his
surroundings. Jerry swam away, his work
complete, and Santiago looked around him, trying to figure out what he would do
next. Suddenly, he noticed a small
island in the distance. Given the tone
of his last island adventures, he wasn't too thrilled at the prospect of more,
but he realized he had a much better chance of survival on land than in the
water. So, in a few powerful strokes
with arms that had once allowed him to defeat all opponents at arm wrestling,
he swam over to the isle and climbed onshore.
After a few seconds of silence and
contemplation, Santiago noticed two natives, a middle-aged man and woman,
coming toward him. Good, he thought,
maybe they'll know how I can get home.
Smiling, he approached them.
"Good morning, kind people. I
come in peace."
The man laughed. "Don't you know where you are?" he asked, grinning evilly.
"No," replied Santiago, "I have no
clue. Where am I? Am I near Cuba?"
This time it was the woman who
laughed. "Not even close, old man. You have washed upon the shore of the Island
of the Cruel, Nameless Narrators!"
"Cruel, nameless narrators?" The old man asked, confused. It certainly didn't sound like something
very threatening, although it seemed as if the woman had intended the name to
be so.
"Yes, cruel narrators," replied the
man. "When I was young, I was cruel to
my brother, Doodle."
"You mean that funky backwards
crawling boy?" Santiago interjected.
"Yes, him."
"And I," the woman began, jumping
in, "was cruel to Jerry, who chopped wood for me."
"Which Jerry?" Santiago asked.
"The one with integrity," she
replied.
"Oh."
"And now," the man snarled, rubbing
his hands together with evil glee, "we will be cruel to you!"
The woman nodded, an evil glint in
her eye, "We will send you to a place so terrible, so torturous, so unbearable,
that it is doubtful you will survive."
And with that, the two laughed, an evil, cruel laugh, in unison.
"What are you talking about? Where are you sending me?" the old man asked, petrified. Foggy smoke was rising around him, hiding
everything else from view. "What is
happening?" he cried.
Suddenly, the smoke cleared, and
Santiago found himself in the back of a small room filled with children sitting
quietly at desks, looking even more frightened than he was. In the front of the room stood a small, dark-haired
woman, with the same evil glint in her eye that the narrators had held. Slowly she snarled, and uttered one simple,
yet deadly phrase:
"Welcome to Hell!"
The End
