Because Life Should Be Unruly

Darius Digby's Magical Night

And now for something completely different. A little rhyme hacked out by a non-rhymer. To all the experts of perfectly metered ballads, you have been warned.

Darius Digby went riding one night, on a bike equipped with a bell and a kite. The seat folded open, the body was steel, and ribbons of paper wound through the back wheel. Feet to the pedals and nose in the lead, he entered the woods, hitting top speed. This was his place he'd been many times, and no one came round when he jingled his chimes. For he feared not a soul, neither foe nor wild beast, and a fire breathing dragon he feared not the least.

In a coppice of trees, he noticed a light, smack in the place where it ought to be night. He silenced the jingle and crept like an ace, guiding his bike to a lookout place. A crowd was gathered with cups and bowls; there were pixies, elves, fairies and trolls. They swayed and moaned a sorrowful song, while Darius puzzled on what could be wrong.

The creatures surrounded a monstrous shoe, filled to the brim with Mulligan stew. It bubbled and burped and smelled of allspice, the kind of soup you have to have twice. Nearby on a pine, a ladle was propped, sporting a handle that just never stopped. And that's when the problem became very clear, the soup was up there and they were down here.

The pixies and fairies were dwarfed by the spoon, and climbing would take the elves into June. The trolls were no help, they just wailed in despair. One threw his bowl and it flew through the air. To serve up this scrumptious and wonderful feast, you would need two really tall giants at least.

Darius approached and slipped through the crowd, suddenly the chanting was not quite as loud. He shook hands with an elf, who said he was "Spike", announcing himself and his unusual bike. Indeed, it was grand, this contraption on wheels, with a seat that stretched as high as it feels. A design all his own, which he pedaled with pride, up the hills, down the streets, and sometimes inside.

Darius smiled as he talked to the folks, explaining the perks of retractable spokes. He walked to the ladle, which was taller than him, but it wasn't too heavy and the handle quite slim. He hoisted it up to whistles and cheers, returned to his bike and played with the gears. Then he shimmied on board and, with a flick of his wrist, the seat plunged him upward and into the mist.

Once at the top, he surveyed the shoe, breathing the scent as he stirred up the brew. He swirled and he tugged 'til the ladle was full, and finding his strength, he gave a great pull. Then he lowered it over the side cautiously, only spilling a drop, okay maybe three. He managed to get that feast to the ground, where the hungry bunch quickly gathered around. Singing with voices that echoed their joy, they all began chanting "What a wonderful boy!" Darius was also feeling quite well, and he joined the strange clan to eat for a spell.

All through the night there was dancing and glee, by the banks of the river and around every tree. The elves took their turn at riding the bike, especially the one who called himself Spike. The mirth persevered to the first light of dawn, when the fairytale creatures started to yawn. Then at last they all slept through the end of September, and Darius had a night he will always remember.