Jabberwockery: January 2013

Before I begin I'd just like to state that, while I don't have children I did stand in a supermarket queue behind a mother who did and, according to the internet, this now qualifies me as an expert on parenting in general and children in specific (1)

That being said I feel that I must point out that Babies cry. Babies cry, alot. It appears to be one of the joys of parenting that they've conveniently left out of the brochures. The thing of it is that we've been around for a long time now and babies have been around almost as long. You'd think that at some point in our history someone would have come up with an idea or two to address the problems of crying babies.

Anyone?

Looks like it's up to me then.

PROBLEM 1: LOST IN TRANSLATION

The problem as I see it is that their crying only serves the purpose of getting them noticed and "Wah wah" covers such a wide range of topics that its difficult to know whether they're saying "I'm tired" or “Actually I'm rather concerned with the political situation in the Middle East (2)"

Namby Pamby Politically correct Solution:

Endeavor to understand the body language of your child. Spend time with them and show them the joy of the spoken word.

Jabberwockery Solution:

Take a stand from day one! They say you've got to speak your babies language, well I ask you who brought them into this world? Who's the one paying the bills until their eighteen? "If there's any languages spoken in this household it'll be mine boyo!"

As a last resort you could teach them charades but only if you need to teach them the difference between "Get mummy a coffee" and "Maybe you should start mopping the floor instead of just sitting there"

Basic semaphore is also acceptable but only if you live in the tropics and cant afford a punkahwallah

PROBLEM 2: IT'S ALL IN THE TONE

The big problem is that when Baby A is crying and encounters Baby B this will invariably start Baby B off as well and as the pair attempt to outdo each other the number of babies grows exponentially until there are no more babies in the world that aren't crying and you're getting nasty phone calls from Russian parents who had only just managed to put their little goulash factory to sleep.

Of course the interesting thing about all of this is that no two babies actually manage to hit the same note at the same time, or indeed at any time (3).

Namby Pamby Politically Correct Solution:

Children crying is just a fact of life and one that everyone will go through. Eventually they grow out of it but you might want to look up from the chardonnay from time to time and perhaps get a secretary to deal with the deluge of angry Russians (4)

Jabberwockery Solution:

Right, if we can't stop the noise then the least we can do is adjust the problem and here at Jabberwockery we're all about adjusting the problem (5)

Since babies are going to cry anyway the thing to do is to teach them to do it in harmony with each other. It'll be a difficult thing to accomplish and will most likely involve a squad of music tutors breaking down doors, confronting expectant mothers and demanding impromptu duets

At the very least we'll need to have lecture halls and studios added to each hospital nursery. Sheet music will be provided on request (6).

PROBLEM 3: PROBLEM 2 REVISITED

Of course no solution is free of further problems and I predict that the mixing of musical styles may just lead us back to the problems of babies crying at cross purposes but rather than being a global clash of discordant voices this time it'll come off more like an 80's hair metal (7) battle of the bands which nobody wants to listen to at three in the morning.

Namby Pamby Politically Correct Solution:

Babies making music are babies that are learning, This is a proven scientific fact. You might invest in a set of earplugs and disconnect your phone for a while but perhaps a better solution is to engage your child and challenge them musically. Eventually you'll be able to relax to the vocal style of your favorite artist and your infant will receive all the attention that they want.

Jabberwockery Solution:

Since we've got musical babies the only possible solution is to produce a global baby orchestra where, through the use of carefully tuned pointed sticks the babies are made to cry at specific times in order to create something that might be called music.

| NOTES:

in New Zealand actually. Look at a map and you'll see that we're nowhere near Specifica.
”...perhaps we might sit down and discuss it like two rational human beings? What? Oh you're putting me to bed. Don't think I won't remember this mother! You'll rue this day! Rue it I say!"
Just as interestingly when wolves howl at the moon they do the same thing. It is a lupine faux pas to howl at the moon in the same key as your neighbor. I don't know why this is because this week I'm an expert on the Genus Babius Crawlus Messyus and not Lupus Socialus Musicalus or indeed Mortisium Languigius: Latinium Grammaticus
You can rabbit on about the political ins and outs all day but this is how the cold war really got started. Learn from history or be prepared to repeat it.
You'll note that I didn't say providing solutions because that's just crazy talk.
But will be looked down on by children of the terminally hip.
Sans tight leather pants and meter long fringes

|CONVERSATION AND MEETING BETWEEN THE PRIESTS:

[Scene: Chapter 3 Part ? - A few days after the entrance to Hermitage. Word of Evelyn's arrival has reached the ears of interested parties and many metaphors about waves, boats and motion are about to be applicable]

Characters:

Most Holy Mouth of the Great Crocodile – Da boss, the head honcho, The big C., The Crocfather. Have you ever had to work with someone who seemed to dedicated to bringing you down? That's this guy. He's got the power and the authority to bring the hammer down on people across the country, He'd like to be regarded as a caring father but his position in the church, coupled with his rather obnoxious nature has won him few real friends.
I'm still working on him though I don't think he'll ever have a very big part and yes he is based very much on someone that I used to work with.

Priest Rig – A priest who has begun to question the role of the church and is therefore a danger to the status quo. This meeting is just the beginning of his career as a character since I've already penciled him in as a leader of a sect who have turned away from the crocodile and begun to worship and study at the feet of Leonia, a champion of ancient legend..

Far away and removed from the hurly burly of the city there sits a room. It used to be a ballroom but needs must as the devil drives as they say and the long engraved table that now dominates the room shows that it has being usurped by something more important than dancing.

Of course a table suggest that people would use it and the council of the most holy shuffles in quietly and respectfully to take their places as is permitted by tradition. Some of them look will a slight longing at their comfortable chairs which are collected up in the corner of the room.but when the most holy mouth of the great crocodile coughs and bangs on the table to bring the meeting to order they quickly get down to it.

[nw: Right then, this intro is crap but it's actually supposed to be since I'm not exactly certain whereabouts this bit is going to go. I need to expand the meeting subjects and show the beginnings of the fracturing of the church. - this will be backed up later with the whole adoption angle in chapter 4 - To quote the bard: It's the dialogue of the thing thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. I'll admit that it's strictly speaking accurate but then I'm not strictly speaking Shakespeare (barring some hitherto unknown reincarnation)]

“I thank you all for coming on such short notice” the most holy mouth begins I've called this meeting as there is a report that Evelyn Esteele has left her self imposed exile and returned to Hermitage”
At the end of the table one of the newer members cleared his throat “this isn't new. Far better to let this matter rest”

“Let it rest Rig? Until the girl returns to the rightous way of the great and holy crocodile we may not, can not, forget the insult that she has offered us”

“What insult is this most holy mouth? As I've heard the story she went through a great deal in order to save the man she loved and he for her. All very romantic but of no real insult to us”

“Priest Rig you are not recognised at this time” the old priest was terse but there you have it “Evelyn Esteele abandoned the church and offered great insult ot me, er, the priest who married them”

“As I heard it the priest who was involved in this took a rather substantial payment in return for his services. I would think that, whoever he is, he would want the issue forgotten” Rig smiled arrogantly “perhaps the insult is to him alone and the rest of us can forget about the whole affiar”

“To insult one of us is to insult all of us!” the holy mouth insisted vehimently

“Leaving all this insult business aside” an older priest broke into the argument “My brothers and sisters would it not simple be better to just ignore her? Evelyn Esteele has been disowned, Lady Trailin never lasted the night and Evelyn Oneeye is the personal guard of the Baron Lutin. As she is in the city to perform her duties I see no reason not to allow her to attend the Baronial Mischance and then leave Hermitage with her master”
“But”
“Well said. There are clearly more pressing issues to contend with at the moment”
“But”

“But what?” Priest Rig hit the wall loudly “But we need to gnaw at this bone just a little longer? But we need to destroy her so that everyone knows the terrible price of crossing the church? But what most holy?”

“I was about to point out that she's a wanted criminal with a substantial price on her head. In her wake she leaves chaos and death. She's only been in the city a few days and already several people have attempted to collect the reward. None of them have survived. I ask you all is this the sort of person that we want in the Royal City? The sort of person who should have access to the Beggar King himself?”
“Most holy mouth I can only agree with my revered teacher. She's not going out of her way to antagonize us and anyone who tries to claim a reward such as hers surely knows the price of failure already. In this matter we must follow her example”

“My student is right” the old priest said firmly “as emotional as ever, but right. We just leave her alone. No attacks, no sermons, just stay away and let it blow over”

The most holy mouth of the great crocodile looked around the room carefully before he answered “I'd like to do that very thing my brother. Just wave my hand and pretend that none of it ever happened but the fact remains that the insult to the church is something that can not be overlooked. An insul that Evelyn Esteele takes great pride in recounting and causing others to laugh at us and question our teachings. She influences everyone that hears her and if left unchecked she could easily be the catalyst that brings down the entire church”
“The entire church most holy? Clearly you overestimate her”
“Again priest Rig I remind you that your comments are out of order”
“And again I remind you that your own make no sense” Rig shook his head “It's obvious to everyone in this room that you've already made the decision concerning the woman. All you desire from this meeting is the justifiaction to act. I refuse to vote on this matter most holy” the large doors were already open by the time Rig and his supporters reached them “make of that what you will” he offered as a parting shot.

| ELSEWHERE:

[Scene: another meeting but not in the same place as before. This one is more urgent and goes at the end of Chapter 3 or at the start of Chapter 4.]

“Our next order of business, once again I might add, is the Esteele question”

“What is the Esteele question exactly?”

“Haven't you been listening to the pipers songs? She's managed to con her way into a place with the Kings own tinkers”
“Really. I hadn't heard of any Esteeles being appointed. The pipers I listen to told me her name was Oneeye”

“You know who I mean! And now shes a tinker to the king” the holy mouth stabbed his finger forward “We should do nothing you said! She'll be here and gone in a week you said! Care to explain yourself?”

Priest Rig didn't bother to look shamefaced “I don't see anything to worry about”
“You don't?”
“No I don't” Rig snapped “I really don't. She doesn't want to follow our teachings thats fine. Half the damned country is dead. The survivors are reaching out to us and we're just sitting on our hands while you pursue your vendetta against one woman? Holy mouth I demand to know where your priorities are” around the wide room there were the grumblings that may or may not have been support “I don't pretend to know the reasons why we were cursed with this but the fact of the matter is that our roads overflow with the bodies of the dead. The simple facts of the matter is that the holy crocodiles are stuffed full, the millers, pounders and inkers all report that they have no more room to handle the surplus. Perhaps we should take all this as a sign. Perhaps it is time to let our people in. Break open the Silver Mountain and feed the people as we feed upon them”
“Without the proper rituals?” the head priest sneered

“We can teach the people” Rig insisted “Show them that to take a person into yourself is to join them with the Holy Crocodile his own self”

| PRIEST RIG DEPARTS THE SILVER MOUNTAIN

[This takes place after Evelyn finds Tygens workbook. Leonia reaches out to find someone and Priest Rig answers. What does she want with him? I suppose that he's just a means to an end but that isn't saying much because in Leonias opinion everyone is a means to an end. This piece is now officially out of date but I'm keeping it around to show exactly how casual the cannibalism aspect has become.]

“Rig. Sit down” his master greeted him with cheer and poured the dark hearts blood personally rather than waiting for a servant “You're just in time for dinner”

The plates were passed around and he nibbled sparingly on ladies fingers coated in a particularly hot sauce while his old tutor piled his plate high with baby back ribs and choice cuts of meat.

“What news of your desmense?”

“Winter is hitting everyone hard” he admitted “between it and the war I wonder what will be left come the spring”

“You always did take everything to heart” the old priest said, delicately selected a larger one from the bowl “yet in the middle of all these happenings you are suddenly recalled back to the Silver Mountain”

Rig nodded cautiously “with no reason given either”he speared some passing sweet breads

“They need to spell out a reason? I thought I thought you better than that” the old priest swallowed down the pickled eyes, coughing a little at the bite of the brine

“What then have you heard?”

Their conversation was interrupted by the fiery ritual of the stomach. Rig noted that it was usually met with more respect than a gaggle of drunken priests

“What have I heard? Ah so many whispers surround this place and so many surround you. I may have heard something that indicated that the Grand Council, not being particularly pleased with your latest words, recalling you to Silver Mountain in order to rake you over the coals”

“My latest words? I've only been saying what people are thinking!”

“But you have been saying it. Where they have the sense to keep their mouths shut. From what I understand the council plan for you to be offered a small post where you may no longer be able to influence anyone”

“Look around! This ceremony was once a dignified and solemn event. We knew the lives and history of those we ate but for every priest now each meal is a banquet while everyone else in the country starves!”

“You overstate yourself. Nobody is starving”

“Its only a matter of time! What happened to us that we debauch ourselves like this?”

“You really need to ask? For whatever reason we were cursed with the turning and now our roads overflow with the bodies of the dead. The holy crocodiles are stuffed full, the millers,pounders and inkers are all reporting that they have no more room to handle the surplus. I've got three shifts of men stripping the bones for the birds but you know thats always a slow job and if we feed them too much we run the risk of one of the flock, or herd as it were, finding out about Silver Mountain and what goes on here”

“Perhaps this is a sign, perhaps it is time to let our people in. Break open the stores and feed the people as we feed upon them”

“Without the proper rituals?”

“We could teach them. Show them that to take someone into yourself is to join them with the Great Crocodile his own self”

The old priest shook his head “It wouldn't work” he proclaimed loudly “Embrace me and then leave my presence my student. I have nothing more to teach you”

The pair rose and clasped each other roughly

“I'm sorry to have disappointed you teacher”

“You've done nothing of the sort my boy” the teacher whispered into his ear “get out of the Silver Mountain. The council will hear of this outburst of yours and they will send men after you”

“But the summons”

“Others have talked like you. They've all been disapeered”

“Yes” Rig said in a daze

“yes, I need to go east. All the way east”

“As good a direction as any my boy. I'll get a message to you when I can”

Rig moved off slowly shaking his head to remove the ringing from his ears [which is Leonias magic at work]

he thought it odd since he had only had a few sips of the Hearts Blood

He stopped as one of the prettier serving girls took a hesitant step forward “Do you really mean all that you said?” she asked

“I did. It is time that we opened our arms to our country and the world”

“Then I will follow you” she deposited her serving bowl on the large table and fell into step behind him

“The road will be difficult” he admitted “I'm heading east of here but beyond that I don't know which way to go”

“Does anyone?” her arm wrapped tightly around his own “it's the journey that matters and my name is Rachel”

Also note somewhere that a few priests have been run off at spear point when they were trying to collect fresh a fresh sacrifice. Rig takes this as a sign that the time for sacrifice has finished.

[nw: fix Rachels part at the end. She is basicly there to show that Rig is not the only person who feels the same way. Perhaps they shall be lovers? Uncertain as yet although it would seperate Rig and the Leonists from the Traditionals who, generally do not get married, or if they do then it is very much kept inside the church so as not to reveal the whole cannibilism thing]