The Salmon of Questionable Knowledge

Master Finnegas gazed into the rushing water of the Shannon and ran his thin white beard through his thin white fingers. 

Scutts knew this expression.  Genius was being made behind the old man’s wrinkled peepers and would spill out in verse any moment now.  He best remember these words and hope that some of the genius would stick in his brain.  Concentrating hard, he leaned in, waiting. 

    'Somewhere amid the waters of the blessed river Shannon,
    There lies a buried treasure, hid inside a special salmon.
    This salmon holds no jet or gold or jewels of any kind.  
    This treasure gives the bearer all the knowledge of mankind.  
    From hazelnuts that fell into the Well of Wisdom, 
    The salmon swallowed them whole and became…get that thumb out of your mouth, boy!’

Scutter pulled his thumb out with a loud pop and hid it behind his back. 

‘Gods above.  How many times do I have to tell you?  A grown boy of fourteen should not still suck his thumb!  It makes you look more of a simpleton than you already are!’

‘Yes, Master Finnegas.  Sorry, Master Finnegas.  Please continue, Master Finnegas.’

‘No!  I cannot!  You have stunted my creative flow!  Why on earth do I keep such a simpleton as a steward?  Seven years I have tried to catch this fish!  Seven years!  Your knowledge of how to use a fishing line is the only thing that stops me from casting you in the river to be done with you, once and for all!  Now keep your focus on the fish, boy!’

Sheepishly, Scutts returned to holding his fishing line.  Master Finnegas was right.  He was a simpleton.  Scutts knew that.  Everyone did.  ‘Thick as a sow’s arse and twice as ugly,’ Da used to call him.  ‘Womb stupid,’ Ma used to say.  ‘Couldn’t find the teet if he was thrown on it,’ she’d tell anyone who’d listen.  Scutts used to laugh too.  He laughed even more when he finally found out what she actually meant.  Idiots like him usually ended up as town criers or manure shovellers— never as steward to a sage and learned poet like Finnegas, the wisest man in all of Ireland.  He planned to learn all he could from him.  He only wished he understood more. 

Silence made the minutes seem like hours.  With every minute, Scutts became more confused.  He glanced nervously at the old man, but decided against making a fool of himself.  He glanced again, but no.  He couldn’t.  He shouldn’t.  Again, he glanced, but…

‘Get that thumb out of your mouth and tell me what you want, boy?’ groaned Master Finnegas, his head in his hands. 

‘Beggin’ your pardon, Master Finnegas, but I don’t understand something.’

            Master Finnegas chuckled, making Scutts feel hot under the collar and extremely stupid.  ‘Tell me what you do not understand, Scutts.  Why it is ‘two geese’ and not ‘two gooses’?’

           ‘No, Master Finnegas.  But I figured out a way to stop the farmer Murphy laughing at me over that one.  I just ask for a goose…then say ‘give us another goose, there.’  Smart. huh?’

Master Finnegas hunched over with laughter.  ‘Scutts, you are one in a million.  Tell me what else confuses you.  Gods above know I need the laugh.’ 

  Scutts felt his cheeks burning.  Stupid people asked stupid questions.  He shouldn’t have opened his trap. 

‘Out with it, boy!’ demanded Master Finnegas. 

‘Well, there’s something I don’t understand about this salmon we’ve been trying to catch…’  Scutts words were stolen from him as the line tensed in his hands.  ‘Master Finnegas!  A bite!  A bite!’