fantasy

the rubaiyat of the billigits part six (translated by daisy kloverleaf)

l

are you going to the billigits fair

mothball weasel pinto flounder are there

be sure to take the one you tolerate

and not the result of losing a dare

ll

saragun springs has only one season

spummerautner describes hot and freezin

the billies again are slamming my rhyme

they claim its why their faces are creasing

iii

it will be fine at the billigits fair

mothball weasel pinto flounder still there

remember me to one just like the song

or to two if you get stuck with a spare

iv

did you go to the billigits lame fair

weasel mothball pinto flounder were there

they said making three “air” stanzas is dumb

no way in hell will I be back next yair

the rubaiyat of the billigits part five (translated by daisy kloverleaf)

i

ping is the sun in the Saragun sky

he is up from six to six bringing light

but ping weaves a crookedly crooked path

choosing his own course upon his own rise

ii

the flying billigits launched a query

of which was the type this pen is weary

how does one rhymely rhyme sky light and rise

the pen shook her head all drunk and bleary

iii

ping does go wherever he wantly wants

and yet he never hears your tauntly taunts

orange ladyboy askers grill me no more

about off label rhymes like know it all snots

iv

pong is the moon in this little stanza

he drinks a bit and tokes of the ganga

Billigits claim this verse is even worse

This pen sent them to see Joe Mantegna

the rubaiyat of the billigits: part four

(note: the translately translations are taking timely time–so these will appearly appear when donely done. dame daisy)

i

all our magic donkeys live by the sea

near pensioner dragons from honalee

dragons don’t like forgetful snotty tots

nor clever ditties about smoking weed

ii

little jackie paper met his end

when at a honalee opium den

dragon puff sent jackie to helly hell

for being a fairweather fink false friend

iii

he had it coming still says dragon puff

who on jackie he did some fiery stuff

went up like vapor the dragon did laugh

and fired a fresh blunt and took a huff

iv

all our magic donkeys live by the sea

near pensioner dragons from honalee

but what happens in honalee gets round

via our willie the magic donkey

by the billigits (translated by dame daisy kloverleaf)

the rubaiyat of the billigits part two

i

the wee billigits took a pleasure flight

and far below a remarkable sight

a fair maid sang an invitation to

wuthering wuthering wuthering heights

ii

by name cathy who cast a shadow not

nor by the wind were her long tresses caught

she warmly called to coldy cold heathcliff

a master whom she most greedily sought

iii

on the wily windy moorly moors

the billigits saw the one so adorned

in pinecone ribbon sash chain and jazz hands

they offered aid to their newly adored

iv

the billigits wanted to help her fight

they called out and she looked into the sky

Who are you and what land do you come from

billigits billigits billigits heights

the billgits (translated by dame daisy kloverleaf)

a sample of the rubaiyat of the billigits

since the tale ended a day early, please behold the first four quatrains of the rubaiyat of the billigits (translated by daisy kloverleaf)

billigits eschew all capital letters and punctuation marks

The full version will be coming to this site sometime this spring

Leila

i

gather ye all around the fire and sit

and hear the legend of the billigits

with ears wide open and pieholes kept shut

‘tis the best path to our wittily wit

ii

up in the sky is neither bird nor plane

neither ping nor pong nor shania twain

tis winged folk orange blue fair and wee

silence fools as i explainly explain

iii

wee folk eighteen inches from tip to toe

neither boy nor girl nor escargot

the billigits are always front page news

admiredly admired dontcha know

iv

they serve a witch one bewitchingly fair

they sing and dance to the autotune lyre

they wear hemp slippers that fall off in flight

they billigittingly stun all who stare

The Oz Exception: The Season Finale

At the western edge of Chareslton’s New Town Cemetery lies humble, yet magical Alone Park. Although it is no more than an aged, somewhat forlorn bench (generously slathered with decades of birdshit) in a tiny lot rich with crabgrass, the presence of a non-fruiting Enchanted Cherry Tree makes it special.

Unique occurrences are commonplace at Alone Park. Just a half hour ago, the Volunteer Weekend Caretaker, Gwen Cooper, her Ghost boyfriend, John Mallory (contained inside her phone), and a Pygmy Goat named Fenwick Kloverleaf had passed through an interdimensional vortex that had briefly opened in the trunk of the Enchanted Cherry.

And just a moment ago, the door reappeared. It irised open and out popped a keg and six Black Rats dressed like movers in old movies, complete with little baseball hats. They huffed and puffed the keg down the side of the tree and placed it on the bench. The crew returned to the vortex, hopped in and from inside came the unmistakable, congenial sound of tips being passed out. “Thank you boys, here’s one for you and you and you…”

Gwen Cooper climbed out of the vortex, with her phone in hand. In the realm of Saragun Springs, John has a strange elastic physical shape, but here he only exists in the Caretaker’s Cottage or in Gwen’s smartphone when movement is necessary.

Gwen landed on her feet and gave the keg a happy knock. SARAGUN SPRINGS FAERIE ALE BREWED BY THE PDQ PILSNER CO. OF SARAGUN SPRINGS. BOTTOMLESS.

“I’ll have to get the hand truck to move this,” she said.

Fenwick poked his head out the vortex. “No need,” he said. “Now that it is in your realm, it is even more weightless than a balloon–that is typical of bottomless kegs. The Rats put on a bit of a show.”

Gwen plucked the keg up in one hand. “Amazing.”

Hark reader! You hear a strange noise, like the grinding of gears as this post goes from the past to the present tense…

Right now, John’s face fills the screen of your mind. “Dear reader, today was supposed to be the penultimate chapter of this tale. But Leila got blasted at the party and deleted what might have been the greatest work of genius in the history of literature…”

From off screen, you hear a laugh and a voice a lot like Gwen’s mutter “as if.”

“Anyway,” John says, smiling like a candiate’s better half, “as a great man once said after Lassie plucked Timmy from yet another abandoned well, ‘All’s well as long as Timmy isn’t in it.’ If that quote makes sense in your mind to any degree, then you have been exposed to Saragun Springs much too long, and we encourage you to seek the help of a mental health specialistor nearest liquorcabinet. Before we go, I encourage everyone to remember to put the cream on your scones before the jam…”

Gwen is again heard off screen. “What! Not that again–no wonder you are dead, lover. Too ignorant to live. No live human being has ever ruined a scone that way!”

“Just completing the tale, darling,” John says. “Ending where it began.”

“I see,” says Gwen. “Oh well, just roll the credits.”

The Oz Exception

Starring….

Dame Daisy Kloverleaf/The GOAT

Gwen Cooper

John Mallory’s Ghost

Fewnwick Kloverleaf

Penrose the Flying Weasel

The Great HeXopatha/Renfield/Mari-Kat Lywd (an identity mixture at best)

Pie-Eyed Peety the PDQ Pilsner Pigeon/PDQ Pete

The Woak Grove

Ernie the Evilmost Elm

Sheep up the yingyang

Juan Gee

Professor Moriarty

Beezer and Barkevious the Braw Bros. Baw

One Legion of Black Rats and various minions

The Spring itself

One Conjured Demon

One conjured Bad Pixie

The Interdimensional Vortex

16 Psyche

Pong

Ping

the billigits

“D.O.”

And of course our vast herd of belligerent little Lambs featuring

Tam, Boaby and the other one whose name I forget.

and Leila Allison as the befuddled pen

The Oz Exception has been brought to you by PDQ Pilsner, proud sponsor of the Pushsprings awards–be sure to try the newly acquired Faerie Ale.

Next week will feature an edited novella from long ago, whose excepts first appeared in Literally Stories UK. Then sometime come spring beware of the “rubaiyat of the billigits.” (remember, billies do not use caps). Double beware of a sample of their work coming here tomorrow.

The End

The Oz Exception: Part Twenty-Three

Ah, here we are nearing the end of this minor catastrophe. Soon, the little fellows pushing horseshit wheelbarrows will be the only ones remaining of this peculiar parade. And yet we have endured a long run of strangely turned out events. In that manner, the Oz Exception is pretty much a match for the Universe because the cosmos makes as much sense and has zero story arc; according to the James Webb Space Telescope there’s just more and more of the same stuff,  farther than any eye can see, or any mind to imagine. And yet there’s that measure of Free Will that allows for unlikely changes….

Gwen and John approached Juan Gee from behind. Both were dressed in Oktoberfest garb, carrying tankards of Faerie Ale, and there was a considerable amount of polka music within the chamber.

“Welcome to the Pushsprings Awards afterparty,” said Juan. Whose voice is an awful lot like that of Truman Capote, which, trust me, takes a bit of getting used to when spoken by a Dinosaur.

Peety and Daisy eschewed their Team GOAT costumes and here clad in dirndl and lederhosen.

“What?” I bellowed across the astral plane. “Whose idea was this? What happened to the giant wizard’s head over the boiling cauldron and the chorus of dancing demons?”

“Oh, they’re all here,” said Penorose, who swooped into view. “It’s just that we got tired of waiting for you to spice up the narrative, so we decided to have a party instead.”

“You know about this, Daisy?”

“Yesly, yes–it was my ideally idea.”

I cast about my mind for better ideas that would not cost me too much effort and came up empty. “All right,” I said, “fill a tankard for me.”

End Partly Party Twenty-Three

The Oz Exception: Part Twenty-Two

“As Team GOAT walked through the Witch’s dark castle, uninhabited save for a mouthy Flying Weasel named Penrose, an invisible voice, like that of an unnecessarily hushed golf announcer, who is a hundred yards from the green, spoke incredibly long, needlessly italicized sentences (such as this one) about their doings…”

“That winged Rodent bit of this and that, keeps tailing us?” Beezer said, noticing Penrose’s androgynous shadow cast by torchlight, falling on the stone floor.

“The wee critter got sucked into the gravity of yer behind,” Barkevious said, using his go to insult when he’s unable to think up better.

“You excel at a shit attitude, brother,” said Beezer.

“Hooray for me,” Barkevious said, doing a sarcastic little dance. “I’m number one at behaving like number two.”

Daisy hoof stomped the floor. “Quiet! The readers can’t hear GOAT’s backstory.

“Ah damn, that again,” said the italicized invisible voice. “Anyhoo, GOAT goes inside stories to help out protagonists who are hard against it all. For instance, they entered an old Twilight Zone episode and gave a character who had tragically broken his glasses to an ironic conclusion a new pair, and once they ‘went’ inside a film called The Valley of Gwangi, and actually kidnapped the Dinosaur lead and bring him to Saragun Springs–but his name is Juan G. due to copyright issues….”

“In fact, the crew turned a corner and found Juan Gee guarding a room from which familiar voices flowed…”

“’Who goes there?’ In his transfer to Sargun Springs, Juan reduced in size from being a thirty-foot tall Allosaurus to about five-ten. Still nearly two yards of Thunder Lizard is a lot to suddenly behold when you round a corner in a dark castle. The wind was howling outside and flashes of lightning illuminated the walls through openings in the ceiling.“

“Daisy stopped and looked up in the general diterction that the invisible voice was coming from and said, ‘Are you sayinly saying it’s a darkly dark and stormily stormy night?’”

“The wind sighed and poured herself another drink.”

End part twenty-two

The Oz Exception: Part Twenty-One

Daisy has it in her contract that there be rousing, heroic music when Team GOAT arrives on the scene. So, imagine if you will, something like the Star Wars’ theme, or that of the Christopher Reeve Superman, and you will know the flavor of the duo’s entrance melody.

Although her transformation and that of Peety (who somehow rearranges his drawn image to include a mask–but he still carries the beer and quotes the same films) to Team GOAT was coincidental to both Daisy and Peety disappearing, Dogs are very good sports and will go with the flow.

Weasels, however, have an obligation to live up to their names as used when compared to humans.

“Haha!” she/he laughed, “It’s Bruce Wayne and his boy toy.”

“Interfere with the storyline again, Weasely Weasel and you will see little hoofprints everytime you need to wipe,” said Dai–the GOAT, who is not the most patient of superheroes.

“‘Roadtrip!’ Bluto, Animal House,” said PDQ Pete–it was at least the twentieth time he had said that since the linoleum was rolled out, but no one got shitty about it, except, for, you guessed it, Penrose, as the brave four entered the castle just to have the door raised behind them.

“I once read an article about the brain power of Pigeons,” said the Weasel from up high in his turret. “It was written in invisible ink.”

“Goddamnit,” I said, watching it on my Chromebook–”Oh, well, that’s what I get for letting a Weasel ad lib.”

“Silence, nonsensical Stoat,” said the GOAT. “I believe that this is where the narrator fills in the backstory of Team GOAT as we walk deeper into the castle,” she added, looking directly into the camera.

“Oh, shit,” I said. It’s a hell of a thing to blow your lines when you are writing them, but I have special talents. I turned on my microphone and began reciting what you will read tomorrow.

End Part Twenty-One

The Oz Exception: Part Twenty

I was watching the progress of the team on my Chromebook (HeXy’s castle is loaded with several easy to tap into cameras and microphones) when the hotline rang. Only the Dubious One uses it, and only when she has her usual dubious nonsense to share with me.

“What?” I snarled, answering the phone with that special tone I share only with her.

“Hmm, uh huh, yeah–I see–little Dogs shouldn’t be so liberal with the word ‘cunt.’ Perhaps ‘twat’ will appeal to your prudish sensibilities. I’m sure that the uptight older Brit royals use it all the time, when referencing the shitty choices in marriage that some of them make. Not that I’d call Fergie or Philip a cunt, but I can see where twat might apply to the late consort of the late queen, who was probably neither–despite what Johnny Rotten said about her.”

The previous paragraph is an example of the strategy I use on the Dubious One. She’s usually on a bender or in the midst of a heavy hangover. All you have to do is blather in her ear until you hear the magic words: “Fine. Whatever,” followed by a click and the sweet sweet dial tone. This is exactly what happened.

Then I had an inspiration. One that would end this third week of our ongoing adventure and seamlessly lead into the final five installments that begin on Monday.

I went to my closet and pulled out the special spotlight. Since it was night, Ping was up, so I aimed the light at him when he was directly over HeXy’s castle in the Enchanted Wood.

After doing so I returned to my Chromebook. As desired I saw Daisy looking skyward then she whispered something to Peety; both disappeared behind an Evilmost Elm Tree. When they returned I beheld the GOAT and PDQ Pete, our resident superhero team.

Funny thing is that only Daisy can see exactly what image is cast on Ping. It’s a blur to everyone else, me included. Of course that might be due to the oddity of the Goat eye, but since Fenwick can’t make it out either, it remains a mystery–or maybe it’s because I cannot think of something interesting or entertaining enough to describe it with.

Regardless, team GOAT was on the job…

End Part Twenty

Starting Monday, the final five installments