Once Upon a Time...
When last we left Margarethe, she was running away from the convent where she had spent far too many formative years. It should be noted that the good Sisters tried their best to drum lessons into her head as well as her backside. Instead of learning how to brew a decent mead for example, Margarethe grew poppies... (Well, everyone knows Opium is a very popular fragrance and the child did have a good business sense even at an early age.)
When all the other girls were learning how to cook and sew, Margarethe was absent from these lessons, teaching herself to ride bareback and climb trees and steal fruit from the gardens. (Tsk. Don't shake your heads! A girl's got to eat and have some fun in life and cooking and sewing weren't the kind of activities Margarethe planned on pursuing when she married a wealthy man and became a lady of leisure.)
Margarethe already knew how to read and do sums so she only attended those lessons when she was worn out from her other activities and/or so high on chocolate that she didn't realize what she was doing. Needless to say, Sister Mary Katherine never called on Margarethe to read aloud after that one episode following Mass one Sunday. The child's choice of Song of Solomon and her lewd rendition of it wasn't exactly what the good Sister had in mind for the Sabbath's entertainment. Although, it should be noted that the good Father enjoyed it immensely.
We rejoin Margarethe and her half-bro Gala Had in his pursuit of the little she-devil... err angel.
"You better not be looking up my skirts," Margarethe warned as she hoisted one stocking-clad leg to the top of the convent's wall, the other leg missing its stocking, but that's neither here nor there.
Aside with muse:
Me: Remind me to go back and delete the superfluous nonsense about her stockings.
Muse: Nahhhh... I want to know what happened to that other stocking. Did she leave one leg bare just to irritate the "toilet-trained-far-too-early-in-life" Sister? Does the poor dear suffer from short-term memory loss? Is this germane to the story? You know how I hate boring chapters. Will this bit of info-dump move the story forward or have you overdosed on chocolate again and just doing filler stuff?
Me: Egads! Shut up! As if anyone could ever overdose on chocolate. Blasphemy!
Gala Had had climbed a tree or two in his misspent youth and scurried up the same tree Margarethe had used as a jumping board. Just as he leaped to the top of the convent's wall, Margarethe yanked the back of her skirts up and flashed him before jumping down onto the ground on the other side. Her bottom was BARE! Tsk. That child has absolutely no manners at all!
Gala Had almost had a cardiac! The sight of his adolescent half-sister's bare bottom caused him to misstep and oops! He slipped right down the inside wall and sprained his ankle. Double tsk. Now he had to climb that wretched tree again!
Sister Mary Katherine, witness to all that had occurred had rolled her eyes when Margarethe flashed her bare backside. She would have admonished the child there and then but alas! Her face froze in that position. See! Didn't I tell you that would happen! Tsk!
Gala Had muttered obscenities that should never be muttered in the presence of a Nun.
Aside with muse:
Me: Is nun capitalized in this instance?
Muse: Who cares? What happens next?
Me: Well, I would feel awful if this were a grammatical error. Grammar is vitally important in a story and... Strunk and what's his name would roll over in their graves if I...
Muse: They're dead? Then, who cares? Here! Eat another chocolate Twinkie and get on with it!
Free of the confines of the convent and the overbearing Sister Mary Katherine as well as the toad-eating, slime-infested, heathen Gala Had...
Muse: Ohhhhhh nice string of unnecessary adjectives. Now write one of those 100 word run-on sentences just for fun. You'll have all those folks that move their lips while reading panting for their next breath.
Margarethe merrily skipped away from her prison. Just as she approached the village, the sky opened up and there was a sudden torrent of rain. In seconds the poor girl was soaked.
What to do? What to do? Margarethe knew she could get a wretched cold and be sick for days. There was no hope for it; she had to get out of those wet clothes. Taking shelter under a tree, she quickly stripped to the skin and rubbed her body vigorously. In the process of flaunting her nubile nudity and trying to stay warm, she muttered incantations so that fresh warm clothing would magically appear.
Lo! And Behold! (I've always wanted to write that!)
A twirling cloud of dust erupted before her eyes! It was Merlin the magician! Hurray! The Calvary had arrived!
Muse: Merlin AND the Calvary in the same paragraph? In the same century?
Me: Merlin is a very versatile magician.
Muse: Uh huh.
"Nu? So where are my clothes?" Margarethe demanded as she hastily covered herself with her wet clothing.
"You're Jewish? Who knew?" Merlin asked as he readjusted his magician's hat (which looked suspiciously like a dunce cap. Moving right along...) "Could have sworn Arthur was Church of England. Of course, Guinevere... tsk. That one's faith is debatable. She had faith in Lance Alot and see what happened!"
"As for your clothes," the weird old guy continued to mutter. "It's not neener neener, piss on a weiner. It's Abracadabra! And Voila! Your clothes will appear. Watch and learn!" he lectured and waved his arms over the wet girl and in the blink of an eye (as if any other body part could blink... double tsk.) Clothes appeared on her body and once again she was dressed respectably (minus one stocking, of course but that's neither here nor there.)
Aside with muse:
Me: Did I spell abracadabra right?
Muse: What? I look like Spell-Check to you?
"I could use a fast get-away car while you're at it," Margarethe told Merlin who was admiring her new clothes and patting himself on the back for his magical ability. (Apparently, Merlin is also very flexible - patting his own back, indeed!)
"Cars haven't been invented yet," he told her "and besides, you don't have a license."
"Crumb! Born into the wrong century. Okay, make a horse appear, a pretty sorrel."
"What's a sorrel?"
"You sure you're a magician? A sorrel is a red horse."
"You sure of this?" Merlin scratched his head, which made his dunce cap fall off again.
"You can always google it if you don't believe me," Margarethe reminded him. "Everybody else in the world googles when they don't know something. Some folks google EVERYTHING and ANYTHING and I don't mind telling you, it bugs the hell out of me, all those nasty urls with viruses that can infect your computer and for sh*t's sake! (Eve's contribution,) who needs to know all that useless information? Makes my head hurt and furthermore, it fills up the cache on the temporary internet folder and before you know it, the computer system's clock speed resembles a turtle."
"Computers haven't been invented yet," Merlin reminded her.
"Well even if they were, all that googling is symptomatic of the manic information age - everybody needing to know every last useless detail about everything which they will immediately forget. Before you know it, the entire world will be filled with a gazillion schizoid personalities desperately in need of therapy."
"Uhhh... and Freud, Adler and Jung haven't been born yet, either," Merlin commented dryly.
"Oh!" Margarethe sighed, channeling Rosanne Rosanadana. "Nevvv-er mind."