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The Mule and I

September 20, 2006

Prologue

There are things that happen in life which are confusing. Confusion is not necessarily disturbing, it can be enlightening, but which ever way you choose to see it there’s always a chance it will sound unreal. You can walk for miles, talk for hours, search for a lifetime and never find an answer; you have to let it go because if you stay with it there’s no moving on. There are things that just defy comprehension and addle your brain so it makes sense to ’seize the day’, stop fighting shadows and deal with whatever comes your way. You just never know what’s round the corner if you pluck up the courage to keep moving forward. Mules are good with the advice and I say this to you all  – if you ever get a chance to hang cool with a mule – take it.

                                              * * * * * *

The bolts slammed shut.

I lost faith. How my own flesh and blood could deny me food, water and a place to rest was the final kick in the guts. How I could be in any way related to someone who lived here was almost worse because it meant we were inextricably bound together. I was a part of her, she was a part of me and I didn’t want that to be true. I was on my knees, dying of thirst but I had no intention of crying out to her – she could watch me writhe from her ringside seat.

” Well well, aren’t you the stubborn one, she’ll be loving this performance.” I must have been hallucinating again, I hadn’t seen another person in days.

” Feel free to help yourself, there’s water in the bucket, a few tasty carrots and a nice apple under the hay. I’ve been saving it as a treat to me but you look like you need it more than I do so you’d better enjoy it.”  I have often hallucinated and yes, there is a first time for everything, but a chatty mule with attitude – never!

“ Listen lady, I may have a running buffet but I don’t do waitress service, not with these hooves. You’re eight feet away from water and a juicy Granny Smith but if you want them you’ll have to get a grip and move your ass.”

I was in agony and the mule brayed like a nightclub comedian – move my ass! 

“Alternatively you could just lie there getting weaker, pile on the agony, prolong the suffering, it’s your call but that apple’s looking mighty tempting. You hear me lady? Apple, temptation. I am on a roll.”

I was on death row but from somewhere deep inside I mined into reserves previously unknown to me. ” For the love of God don’t bray, laugh, whatever….. I’m going to try and reach the water.”

“My water.”

“Your water, your water.” I set off, inching my way toward the bucket. I could smell it, clear, fresh, life giving water. I was lower than a snake’s belly but getting closer, my tongue was swollen, my lips cracked…. but I went forward and in doing so I reached it. My head bobbed, my hair dripped and I drank on and on, greedy, thankful, rain in the desert. I could not stop myself even though the bucket was almost empty and the mule would need some for later. It shames me to say it but I drained it dry, selfish as ever, I quenched my thirst with a gift I did not deserve and he allowed me to do it selflessly, without remonstrance.

“You ready to eat now? I don’t have a large variety, actually I have no variety, but you are welcome to share what is here. I’m guessing you don’t eat hay, I have yet to meet one of your kind who does but you just drank 3 gallons of water so hey, what do I know?”

I am a disgrace to my race, I know it, I have always known it but in my defence I can categorically state I felt ashamed. Unfortunately there is worse to come so if you are ashamed of me I beg of you, don’t read on.

“Do I look like the kind of person who eats hay?”

“You look like something that crawls about in the Ash Desert, on its last legs, insane with pain, no point, no purpose and ready to kick the bucket or, in your case, drink the bucket, but let’s not hold that against you. I am simply pointing out that no matter how hungry you may be if you don’t want to starve, tonight’s menu consists of carrots, some soft, some hard but quintessentially carrots!” 

“What about the apple? Where’s the Granny Smith you were chortling about, all juicy and green and…appley?”

“It’s disappeared.”

“Disappeared. It’s disappeared. What are you saying? Did it sprout wings and take flight. Was it swooped into the sky by one of those hideously large crows? Did the crone nip out and snatch it off you to spite your generosity because, I’m telling you now, apples do not up themselves and disappear! It’s not possible, it’s not rational and I need all the vitamin C I can get if I don’t want to spend the rest of my life sitting here talking to you!”

We both paused for breath, staring at each other. I had no right to be angry, the mule had every right to feel aggrieved, I was obsessed with the need to eat and I’d sloshed down all the water – it was a difficult situation. I get wound up too easily sometimes and lash out at the slightest thing. I tried to compose myself whilst the mule breathed deeply, closed his eyes and meditated. After a while he broke the silence.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way but from where I’m standing the disappearance of an apple should be way down your list of concerns. It may well be both irrational and impossible for apples to disappear but I think you should take stock for a minute and consider what’s happening. In short, you are having a row with a mule. Now, you go tell that to the folks back home and I think you’ll find it’s certifiable if not plain crazy.”

“Well cheers for that little pearl of homespun wisdom. You think it hasn’t crossed my mind that you speak English like a native? Do you really imagine that any of this is ‘normal’, tried and tested, part of my daily routine? Get up, shower, dress, eat, set off on a journey, stagger through a living nightmare of abandonment, meet up with the Granny from hell, encounter a near death experience and hey – chew the fat with a mule before I go home for cocoa and a comfy night in watching the tele! Really! You think?”

“Have a carrot, you must be pining away. Have all the carrots, I’ll be getting more tomorrow.”

“Have a carrot! A carrot! That’s your response, your reply, your contribution to the debate? Have a CARROT!”

“Shush up and eat, you’ll feel better. I’m amazed you’ve got this far and they are positively sumptuous carrots. You’ll want more, believe me. By the way, what’s in that pouch?”

That mule was one cool dude I can tell you; his capacity to switch moods, tone of voice, expression – can’t explain it, extraordinary. I munched on a carrot. He was right, it was the tastiest, most filling, most unlike any other carrot I’d ever eaten. The last bite – carrot cake, honestly, like a dessert.

I finished them off and opened the pouch so we could both see what it contained. Strange looking seeds, a tiny anchor, a set of wings, spectacles, a candlestick and a medallion which had on it an imprint of the Unicorn. Food? No. Drink? No. Shelter? No. Useful things that would help to keep body and soul together? I couldn’t say, she must have had some reason to give me the pouch but nothing was clear to me, nothing made sense. I glanced up at Dobbin.

“Any of these things ring a bell with you? Have you ever seen them before, did she mug a passing gypsy or a babe in arms?”

“Not to my knowledge and if you ever call me Dobbin again I’ll be forced to bite your head off.”

“I didn’t call you Dobbin! I thought it but I didn’t say it out loud. What is your problem you freakishly, bizarre, not to mention illegal reader of other people’s minds mutant mule?!”

“I consider it disrespectful in the extreme that we are all tarred with the same, idiotic name. If you want to call me by my name say so, otherwise Mule will do just fine. How would you feel if I secretly referred to you as Neurotic, Greedy-guts, Fruitcake or some other stereo-typical name?”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I am sorry. Let’s not argue about it. In future I’ll think before I….think! You’ve been, y’know, sort of….kind to me and I appreciate it and I was going to thank you, truly. Now then, there’s a good mule….there’s a good, good mule.” I patted his hoof. I am an appalling human being. I admit it, so don’t be judging me and being cranky. I see a chance to joke around and before I know it I’ve upset everyone, friends, relatives, mules, all because I can’t bite my tongue.

“Ouch!” An apple core hit me on the ear. Mule snorted and showed his teeth.

“ Did you eat that apple and throw me off the scent with all that cobblers about disappearing fruit and veg. Is this the apple you promised me and all the time you ate it yourself?”

“The very same, it was delicious, I enjoyed every last bite. You didn’t deserve it. I am a good mule, I’m both kind and thoughtful but I am not a saint or even a soft touch. By the way, who drank ALL the water without stopping to ask if I needed some for myself? Oh, and for the record, I didn’t tell you how the apple disappeared, you flew off the handle and duped yourself; but, more seriously, so take note, don’t you ever, ever, patronise me again. Understood?”

We all have our faults and if you ever sign up for a journey that makes you wander into a charnel house, ashen desert until you are so tired and crazed you want to jump off a tall building, your faults will show themselves. I had to sleep and keep on Mule’s good side because I thought he might allow me to lie down in the hay. I needed to rest and refresh my mind so I could put everything into some kind of order or perspective. I needed Mule to make me a map so I could get back to where I started without going through that ghastly desert. I wanted the journey to end quickly, I wanted to quit.

“Understood. Totally. Absolutely. Saint, no, soft touch, never; kind, gentle, clever, thoughtful and forgiving, a mule in a million. Do you mind if I stay here for the night, I won’t make a sound, I’ll sleep and then I’ll be away in the morning.”

“Hmm, you’ll be away in the morning. Would that be on your way ‘to’ or running away ‘from’ – you sound like a person who’s thinking of giving up. You’ve dragged your body this far, wandered through desolation, accepted the pouch of your ancestors and allowed me to save your life so you can run away from yourself – again? Really?”

” You sound disappointed in me. I didn’t ask you to save my life, I didn’t ask for the pouch and I definitely didn’t expect any journey to push me into facing my worst fears. I thought I was going for a stroll in the country, a pic-nic, a scenic tour but this, no, no way. This is too much, too soon. I’m not ready, I may never be ready and no amount of your endless, mule patience is going to change my mind. It’s too hard, it’s scary, it’s creepy and there’s no way I can do it.”

“You’re tired out and distressed. Of course you can stay here for the night, make a blanket with the hay. I’m not disappointed in you, why should I be? You’re not doing this journey for me, you’re doing it for yourself. I barely know you but I will say this, if you give up now how will feel about yourself?”

“I’m worn out Mule and I’m useless. I’ve always been useless. People like me don’t do things like this, I’ll fail, I always fail. I’m sleepy now, we’ve been talking for ages. Thanks for letting me stay the night; is this a dream Mule, will I wake up and be somewhere else, somewhere in my past maybe? I don’t like not knowing, I’m terrified of the dark.”

“You’re very, very tired and I want you to sleep now, don’t be frightened, you’ll be safe here. I want you to eat one of these seeds, you’ll have a lovely dream and when you wake your questions will have been answered. You’re almost asleep, let the day go, give your body a break, relax.”

” You should have been a therapist Mule, or a sleep giver, or a hypnotist. I feel like I’ve known you for ages, but I can’t have because I’ve never met a talking mule, I would have remembered. How did you learn to speak English Mule, who taught you?”

“Oh dear me, we’ll clear this up and that’s it for the night. I can’t speak English, no one ever taught me. I speak a universal language, I enable people to communicate. It’s probably more accurate to ask where you learned to speak mule.”

“Oh nice one, I never looked at it like that; you’re joshing me, I can’t speak mule, I can only just manage English.”

” Never mind, it’s not important. ‘Only connect’ – I’ll tell you about that sometime. Now, pick up the spectacles and look into my eyes. Let that fear go, it’s a crippling weight; pass it over, let me take it darling, let me take it ….”

On the cusp of sleep and very near a dream state I knew, I felt the weight pass as she took it from me. ” Le Enchanteur…. you…. here?”

” Always, never doubt it.”

I wept, even as I slept the tears fell.

Jan

9 comments

  1. Oh yes — how I love dialogue
    in stories — but rarely ‘as the story’


  2. Goodness Jan. You may wonder where I draw inspiration from when I do my drawings but I am left in awe of this dialogue. I love dialogue, especially when it is with the inner mule. On this journey we have met some wonderful donkeys and I can see that the mules have much insight to offer as well. I used to get students to talk to blades of grass and mushrooms to learn how to dialogue like this. Expect to see this up on the calendar and in the A to Z. Bravo!


  3. Heather, it’s 3:12am. I did this piece for 2 reasons;
    a) I have never been able to write dialogue and because I can’t write it well I stopped writing prose. Stopped, completely, because I CAN’T write dialogue -:

    b) I felt so ill this morning (tooth extracted yesterday) rheumatology consultant in approx.12 hours from now, Pain Management clinic next, more injections, more pressure applied for me to trial a new, slow release morphine patch and oh…yes… feel free to chuck in a systemic steroid, why not,what’s to lose – I decided to have some fun with a talking mule. As for sleep – what is it Heather? Your comments, many thanks, I’m chuffed to bits, it’s made it mean something to me and consequently worthwhile. Bless you.


  4. Brilliant writing.


  5. I guess I was vague or disfocused …

    It is indeed rare to see an entire story based on dialogue — a feat to be acknowledged,
    and without a single identifying line.

    I have attempted this on occation,
    but with mixed results. I am currently re-writing
    my book “Songs of the Gusari” which blends many voices. To me it is clear who is speaking at any given point — not so to others.

    Perhaps I must encapsulate sections so that only two people are discorcing at one time, as you have done.

    Well done.


  6. I agree with everyone– wonderful dialogue. It’s interesting…. I enjoy writing dialogue between two people. It flows quite easily for me, but I have a very difficult time writing a conversation between three or more characters. All the voices in my head get messed up! :)

    Well done.


  7. Wonderful!! I really loved your Prologue as well…but then I am a complete succour (sp.??)for any sort of philosophical waxing!!! Superb!!


  8. wow I am in awe – this is superb


  9. You are so clever to write a story in dialogue. Be very proud of yourself, you’ve succeeded in what you wanted to be able to do.



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