Vois Sur Ton Chemin

The Adventures of Marlow: The Extra-Ordinary Day

One day Marlow was feeling extra-ordinary. Not in the sense of feeling special, but in the sense of feeling particularly, especially, and, above all unusually ordinary. This sounds like an impossible proposition, as being specially ordinary is itself extraordinary, in the sense of being special.

As you might have guessed, Marlow was, by this point, feeling rather confused. Marlow, unused to introspection of any sort--that required extraordinary (in the sense of being special) effort--confused being confused with being unhappy. And when he is unhappy, Marlow likes to make himself a cup of tea and a hot fudge sundae (two scoops, one peppermint, one raspberry, with whipped cream, sprinkles, and two cherries), and sit in the garden and watch the grass grow. Once he had drunk his tea and finished his sundae (after carefully looking around for passerby before licking the sundae dish) he felt a good bit better. He had forgotten why he was unhappy (confused) and whether or not it was possible to be extra-ordinary (in the sense of being unusually ordinary) and ordinary at the same time, and instead remembered that he liked butterflies and dinner parties. And pickles.

As this day was a particularly extra-ordinary day (in the sense of not being ordinary, although implying no particular weight of destiny or value beyond, well, the ordinary) Marlow decided to Do Something Different. This decision is often followed by a blinding flash of inspiration akin to walking headlong into an inconveniently located dangly thingy (at this point his imagination got bored and returned to its habitual place in a cobwebbed and slightly musty corner of his consciousness). Marlow, in honor of his particular love of butterflies, dinner parties, and pickles, would host a dinner party and invite the butterflies. And serve pickles.



Marlow set about preparing his feast. First, he cleaned his house. Feather duster and rag, soap and bucket, broom and mop, he set to it. Marlow does this sometimes when he can't think of anything else to do, which is often. His house is therefore very clean, so it didn't take long for him to accomplish this feat. Which Marlow's House appreciated. Once he finished cleaning, Marlow proceeded to plan his menu. As he had no desire to go grocery shopping, Marlow decided to plan his menu in accordance with the contents of his pantry which, unfortunately for others but quite fortunately for Marlow, contained largely pickles, cherry sauce, a bit of cheese, and a third of a loaf of bread almost stale enough to eat. These were all Marlow's favorite foods, making menu design simple and Marlow drool delicately (Marlow is a cultured pig, with, his Mother to thank, above average table manners) in anticipation.

In order for one to have a dinner party, one needs guests, so Marlow made sure to make particularly--this was no ordinary dinner, after all--pretty invitations. He decided butterflies would very much appreciate flowers, so he plucked a few blossoms from the woods and only ate a few. To these he tied a bit of string, some pretty bark, and a bit of colored paper with the carefully lettered

Dear Ms. Butterfly,
Mr. Marlow and Marlow's House would be honored by your presence,
This very evening
at 6 o'clock pM

He was unsure how exactly to convey his invitations (6 should suffice). He sat and thought about this for awhile. Marlow's House had some suggestions, but Marlow didn't hear him, and so Marlow had to think about it all by himself with no help from his House. Eventually he came to the conclusion that, seeing as the butterflies often frequented the meadow, that would be the ideal place to leave the invitations. So he carefully picked them up (resisting the urge to eat the bark and the flower), conveyed them to the meadow, and deposited them on a stump in the middle.

But lo! it was already 4 o'clock, and Marlow had much to do. After all, the table was still to be set, food prepared, drinks arranged... an extraordinary (in the sense of being different from, and in this case superior to, the ordinary) evening requires extraordinary effort, and he'd best get to it...


..::to be continued...

posted by Vivyenne @ 3:25 PM