Mysteries of Life
or
Scenes from the Kingdom of Filtwater
III.
“Wacha doin’, Sarden?”
Sarden groaned to himself as the pesky thirteen year old leaned her head on her arms at the open window. “Inventing as always, Charlain?”
“Uh-huh.” She stared at him with those inhumanly large eyes. Apparently, Charlain had formed a crush on Sarden when she was ten and he was twenty-two. Every day for the past three years, she came over, looked in the window and asked “Wacha doin’, Sarden?” To which Sarden always replied, “Inventing as always, Charlain?”
He had tried to awaken her interest in other boys but unsuccessfully. He had tried to make her hate him but nothing worked. Now that she was growing up, Sarden could see she was going to be a knockout and wasn’t sure that he wanted to break her heart. Aside from that her father, the smith, was as large as an elephant. Sarden shuddered to think what the man could do to another with his hammer, despite his bad leg.
“Wacha inventin’?”
Sarden couldn’t figure women out, even one as young as Charlain. He hoped this invention would help him. “I’m inventing a machine to solve the mysteries of life.” He tightened a screw. “In fact, if you want to help, I’m almost finished.”
The excitement in Charlain’s eyes looked like it would spill over into the scenery as she ran through the door to the cottage. “Wat’ll I do?”
“You see this crank? When I say ‘crank’ you crank it, okay?”
“Ok.”
Sarden cranked the first crank, the second crank; the third crank: the fourth crank…the fifth crank. The noise level in the room was enormous, whirling, twirling, spinning, Charlain’s squeals of surprise, the crackle of energy. The sixth and seventh cranks, the eighthcrankninthcrank, the tenth crank. “Crank!”
Charlain turned the crank once, twice, three times.
Sarden saw the beginnings of an answer to the mysteries of life, to the questions everyone asked themselves: What is the purpose in being? What do women want in a man? Who is God? Why do the Swiss put holes in their cheese? Is there life after death? Why do Americans refer to singular nouns with plural pronouns when it isn’t grammatically correct?
The answers were coming. It was almost clear in the crystal. “Eureka! I’ve done it!” The answers came clear, but before the inventor could focus…BOOM! His machine exploded.
Sarden groaned to himself as the pesky thirteen year old leaned her head on her arms at the open window. “Inventing as always, Charlain?”
“Uh-huh.” She stared at him with those inhumanly large eyes. Apparently, Charlain had formed a crush on Sarden when she was ten and he was twenty-two. Every day for the past three years, she came over, looked in the window and asked “Wacha doin’, Sarden?” To which Sarden always replied, “Inventing as always, Charlain?”
He had tried to awaken her interest in other boys but unsuccessfully. He had tried to make her hate him but nothing worked. Now that she was growing up, Sarden could see she was going to be a knockout and wasn’t sure that he wanted to break her heart. Aside from that her father, the smith, was as large as an elephant. Sarden shuddered to think what the man could do to another with his hammer, despite his bad leg.
“Wacha inventin’?”
Sarden couldn’t figure women out, even one as young as Charlain. He hoped this invention would help him. “I’m inventing a machine to solve the mysteries of life.” He tightened a screw. “In fact, if you want to help, I’m almost finished.”
The excitement in Charlain’s eyes looked like it would spill over into the scenery as she ran through the door to the cottage. “Wat’ll I do?”
“You see this crank? When I say ‘crank’ you crank it, okay?”
“Ok.”
Sarden cranked the first crank, the second crank; the third crank: the fourth crank…the fifth crank. The noise level in the room was enormous, whirling, twirling, spinning, Charlain’s squeals of surprise, the crackle of energy. The sixth and seventh cranks, the eighthcrankninthcrank, the tenth crank. “Crank!”
Charlain turned the crank once, twice, three times.
Sarden saw the beginnings of an answer to the mysteries of life, to the questions everyone asked themselves: What is the purpose in being? What do women want in a man? Who is God? Why do the Swiss put holes in their cheese? Is there life after death? Why do Americans refer to singular nouns with plural pronouns when it isn’t grammatically correct?
The answers were coming. It was almost clear in the crystal. “Eureka! I’ve done it!” The answers came clear, but before the inventor could focus…BOOM! His machine exploded.