As our scene opens, you must imagine a cold, frosty New England morning.
The sky is bright, a lovely shade that cannot be reproduced by any
photographic process. The cold makes your ears tingle, and now you can't
really feel your nose. The trees make little aching noises of protest
when the winter wind makes them sway. This is a really nice day to
bundle up warmly, and ride the Tractor down by the lake, just to see
the scenery, get out off the house for an hour.
We are in the driveway with Switch and Lily, and they are trying to start
the big green and yellow 1949 John Deere Tractor, but the diesel is too
cold. The starter chugs and clatters, but the engine does NOT turn over.
The battery is starting to wind down.
Switch: (Sitting high up in the in the grubby yellow seat) "Lily! I need
you to bring the can of ether from the garage! We need to turn this
motor over before we lose the battery! It's six volt, and we can't jump
it with anything in the driveway, they're all twelve!"
Lily: "Heeeeee!!" Quick as a wink she darts into the garage and comes out
again, pushing a squat metal aerosol can of ether on the ground before
her with her nose. It has a web of crocheted wool around it, just like a
crocheted egg, so that it can be picked up in ferret teeth.
Switch: (Jumping down to help Lily drag the can up to the carburetor)
"here, I'll pull, you push." They both heave and push and pull and
wrestle, but they get the awkward can up to where it needs to go. "O.K.
I'll stand on the starter button, you give her a puff of ether. Don't
breathe any of that stuff in, it's nasty!"
Switch, back up on top, pulls out the choke rod with two front paws, and
begins to War Dance up and down on the starter button. The first chug or
two sounds from the starter motor. The cold cylinders start to cycle,
very slowly. Foof! Foof! Foof!
Lily, literally hanging upside-down beneath the belly of the beast,
pushes the nozzle and sends a goodly shot of highly volatile ether
directly into the engine itself, where it touches the vital spark, and
ignites into a small ball of flame. Foooosh! Un-noticed by Switch,
the explosion blasts Lily bodily against the frozen rock hard driveway.
Chug....chug...chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug! The Tractor comes to
life, it's enormous greasy steel heart comes to smoking, stuttering life.
Switch voices a victory dook, which goes un-answered by Lily. Puzzled,
she looks down.
Switch: "Hey! Hey Lily!" Suddenly she realizes that her friend is lying
crumpled on the ground like a furry frozen handkerchief. "Lillllyyy!"
Switch throws herself down to the driveway and begins to shake the
senseless Lily.
Switch: "Lily! Please! You've got to wake up!"
Lily: ".........."
Switch: "LILY! WAKEY WAKEY POLLY PARRRRROTTT!" (Disclaimer: The
preceding statement will only make sense to those of you who follow
Monty Python. You know who you are.)
Switch puts her ear against Lily's chest searching for a heartbeat, but
of course she can hear nothing above the roar of the tractor. She
scrambles up and heaves on the accelerator rod, choking off the fuel to
the engine. The Tractor gives a black-smoked shudder of protest, and is
then still.
Switch: "Lillllllly!"
Lily: ".........."
Switch, mumbling hysterically, begins to vigorously rub her seemingly
lifeless friend's paws in an effort to revive her. "OhmygodLilyyou
gottawakeupwakeupwakeup.."
Lily: (very quietly, eyelids fluttering) "heeeee..."
Switch bends her head down to her friend's snout, hoping she has not
imagined Lily's faint cry!
Switch: "Lily! Speak to me Lily!"
Lily: "Hee-hee, hee-hee-heeeee, hee-hee. Heeeeee.."
Switch: "Hunh? What bridge? You're in the driveway, there's no
bridge.."
Lily: "Heeeee-heee, heee."
Switch: "The RAINBOW Bridge! Get outta town! That's just a story!"
Lily: "Heee-HEE-hee! Heee-hee!"
Switch: "Hunh? The Buddah says that suffering is inevitable?"
Lily: "Heeeeeeee..."
Switch: "No, you have NOT achieved enlightenment, you cut-rate mink,
you have a BRAIN INJURY. I never should have let you handle the ether.
I think that you inhaled some!"
Lily: "Heeee-hee-heee, he heee..."
Switch " The sound of one hand clapping? I'm dialing 911."
As we leave the driveway, let us all bask in the dharma.
Alexandra in Massachusetts
[Posted in FML issue 4361]
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