A Curl in the Tale
A Curl in the Tale
Günter sighed as he eased his bulk into his favourite chair.
"Daddy, will you tell us a story?"
"Yeah! A story! A story!"
"Pleeeeeeease!"
"Okay, okay, be still. I'll tell you a story."
The three boys jumped around, squealing with delight.
"Hooray!" they shouted, loud in their glee.
"Right, so. Let us get settled all together. Now. What sort of a story should you like?"
"A fairy story!"
"No! A true story!"
"A funny story!"
The three bickered, each championing their cause with all the shrill force of their diminutive lungs.
"Easy, easy now. More of this I cannot take. Max, stop biting your brother. Ernst, let go of Winston's ear." The boys obliged, if reluctantly. "Now, sit down, or I shan't be telling a story at all."
"But Daddy! You p'omised…"
Günter silenced Ernst's protest with a wave. "How does this sound. I'll tell you a story that's, well, a true story, it's certainly that. A fairy tale too, perhaps. And a little funny, also." Max and Ernst nodded their eagerness so hard that their chins wobbled. Winston looked dubious. "Winston, my boy, what's the matter?"
"Daddy… how can a fairy story be a true story also?"
"Because… because sometimes, these stories are about, well, perhaps a lesson, or a piece of good advice. And in that sense they can be true. Or they can be about… heroes and villains, and such. Which are a part of everyone, after all, and so are about that kind of truth. Sometimes, they can be about things that we wish were true. And sometimes, of course, sometimes they are true because they actually happened."
"So is this one of the ones what really happened?"
"Yes, my boy, it is."
"Who did this one really happened to?"
"If you must know, it really happened to me." Three pairs of little dark eyes shone back at him in wonderment. "Shall I tell it?"
"YESSSSSS!!!!"
"Very well then."
"Once upon a time, in a land not so very far away from here, between the great dark forest of the East and the clear waters of a mighty river that flows down from the mountains of the North to the Western ocean, there lived three brothers." ("What were their names, Daddy?" "Patience, I'm just getting to that.")
Their names were Hünter, Münter and Günter. ("Is that you, Daddy?" "Yes, that is me.") Now, the day came when the boys were old enough to leave home and go into the world to seek their fortune. They each packed their belongings into a sack, bid farewell to their Mother and Father, and set off along the road.
"After a while, they came to a meadow beside the woods, where the road passed quite close to the river. It was a quiet spot, and they were weary from travelling, so they decided to stop for a while to rest. Münter lay in the long, cool grass; Hünter rested in the shade beneath the trees, and Günter waded in the cool waters at the river's edge.
When the waters had made him feel quite refreshed, Günter went to see his brothers. First, he went to Hünter, saying 'Come my brother, let us go on along the road together.' But Hünter waved him away, saying 'In a little while, brother,' whereupon Günter asked 'Then shall we not go to seek our fortunes?' Hünter pointed to the woods, and answered 'What fortune more should I seek than the fruits of the forest? I am content that I shall find my fortune here in the woods.' So Günter bade him goodbye.
He went then to Münter, and said 'Come my brother, and we shall go on along the road together.' Münter, too, waved him away, saying 'Not now, brother. In a little while perhaps.' 'Shall we not go on to seek our fortune?' 'What more fortune should I seek than the boon of rich dark soil and the joy of the harvest I shall reap? I shall want for nothing, for I have found my fortune.' So Günter bade him goodbye as well, and returned to the riverbank, for he saw that his fortune lay elsewhere.
As he sat beside the water, Günter spied a passing fisherman. He waved to the fisherman, who drew his boat in close beside the bank, and he asked him, 'Good fisherman, have you room in your boat to ferry me across the water?' 'Of course,' replied the fisherman, 'hop in,' so Günter climbed aboard and the fisherman cast off.
The river was broad, and soon the strong current began to carry them downstream, leaving his brothers far behind and out of sight.
As he climbed out of the little boat on the far side of the great river, he thought fondly on his two brothers, Hünter in his forest, and Münter in his field. He thought 'at least I shall see them again, in the next world if not in this.' This cheered Günter as he followed the road along the riverbank, towards the Big City, and he had many adventures along the way, but those are stories for another time, and another day.
When he reached the city, Günter found himself a position and so began the pursuit of his fortune. Günter kept his eyes and ears open, and his snout to the ground, and he quickly began to climb the corporate ladder. In a few short years, he won promotion after promotion, moving from mailroom to trading floor, to corner office. His hunger for wealth knew no bounds, and he wasn't above making a little money on the side, dealing in Pork Futures on the Stock Market. Eventually, he rose to become the V.P. of a large multinational, with all the wealth and power that that entails. Finally he had found his fortune.
One day, when Günter was out of the office, the evil Tax Man came to the doors of the Big Company, and asked to be shown the Books. You see, the Tax Man was jealous of Günter's fortune and wanted it for his very own. When Günter returned, he found that the Tax Man had begun an Investigation, and had besieged the Big Company with squadrons of Accountants, and legions of Auditors. When he saw this, Günter knew that his fortune was in danger of being stolen away from him, and so he bravely shredded everything in sight and fled the Big City with every ounce of his fortune that could be liquidated at short notice.
Much as he hated public transport, Günter figured it was the easiest way to escape without notice, so he bought a one-way bus ticket into the country - cash, of course - and set off.
The bus followed the road that ran beside the river through countryside that Günter had seen before, albeit a long time previously. It had all changed so much in the time he'd been in the city that he probably wouldn't have recognised much of it without the aid of photos, or a map. The bus chugged gently as suburbs, then towns, then villages glided by.
Smooth as the journey was, he wriggled in his seat, trying to worm his backside into a position of comfort, but it was no use. The bus was hot and cramped, and some hideous fat old woman had squeezed herself into the seat beside him. Which is not to say that Günter was slim by comparison - the years of 'good living' had increased his bulk almost beyond measure. His belly hung low, making his legs seem even shorter. The fat of his jowls hung down below his chins, and his neck had completely disappeared into the rolls of hairy fat between his shoulders. He sweated, and squirmed, and grunted his discomfort at the old woman, but she was either too deaf, he thought, or too stupid to take any notice. Besides, there weren't any other seats.
As he stepped off the bus, Günter almost found himself wishing he were back in the city. There was nothing here. No traffic. No houses. No distraction of any kind. Just himself, the road, the riverbank. The distant trees. Empty things everywhere around. And where was his fortune now?
He hoisted his briefcase and set out along the road in determined fashion. Perhaps he might find an hotel, something, anything. Somewhere he could stop running, even just for a while. Long enough to plan his next move, at any rate. Figure out what was he going to do next? That was the thing.
Just then, he remembered his brothers. Didn't they stay somewhere in the area? Might they not take him in? Suddenly he realised that he knew this part of the river, knew exactly where he was. 'Surely,' he said, 'this is where I came to cross the river, all those years ago?' 'Aye,' a voice answered, 'and just as surely it was I that brought you across.'
Günter looked with a start, almost jumping into the river so surprised was he. Sitting by the river, his line drifting along with the flow, was none other than the old fisherman. 'Was it you that ferried me across, all those years ago? I had quite forgotten.' 'Aye,' came the answer, ' I could never forget a face such as yours.' 'Perhaps you might carry me across the river once more?' Günter asked, but the Fisherman only shook his head. Günter pleaded, begged, offered money, but all to no avail.
At length, the Fisherman said to Günter, 'I wish that I could carry you across the river, but alas, my boat was repossessed by the bank, and now I must earn a living from what I catch from the shore.' 'How, then, am I to cross?' Günter asked. 'Perhaps you might swim,' answered the old Fisherman. 'But - I cannot swim.' 'Then you cannot swim across. Of course, if you had wings, you might fly across.' 'But I have no wings!' 'Then you cannot fly across.' 'O! for the wings of a dove, to carry me across the river!' The Fisherman snorted. 'A swan perhaps, or a crane, but surely no dove could carry you across!' 'Don't take the piss.' 'Sorry. I was only pulling your tail.' 'Look, are you going to help me or not?' 'Of course, of course. Look,' he said, and pointed 'if you really must cross, you have only to walk.'
Günter had opened his mouth to berate the Old Fisherman, who was clearly a simpleton, and no doubt deserved to lose his boat, when all of a sudden he saw in the distance, just where the Fisherman was pointing, a narrow bridge that crossed the river with a single graceful arch. 'Well,' he said, 'that wasn't there before.' 'Indeed,' answered the Fisherman, 'they only opened it a couple of months ago.' Günter took his leave of the Fisherman, and set off across the bridge.
When he reached the other side, he found that he was quite close to where he had left his two brothers behind. The first house he came to was a neat little cottage surrounded by well-worked fields. He thought to himself that surely this must be the house that belonged to Münter, and when he knocked at the door, he was delighted to see the face of his brother.
Münter invited his brother in, and the two sat and talked late into the night about the fortunes they had each found, Günter his wealth, and Münter the produce of his labours. They drank the ale that Münter had brewed from the corn in his fields, and they talked and they talked and they talked. Of course, there was no question that Münter would not invite his brother to stay with him in the little cottage, for he had nowhere else in the wide world to go.
After a few days, Günter grew weary of life in the country. He ached for the bustle of the Big City, the noise and the distractions, the people and the things that his money could buy. Here in the country there was nowhere for him to spend the money that he had brought, and nothing for him to spend it on. He tired of the produce of the fields, the endless all-cabbage diet, and the weak beer that Münter gave him to drink. It made him gassy and irritable, and however much of it that he drank, he never felt as pleasantly inebriated as he did after a few large brandies in the bar of his Gentlemen's club. He yearned for a hearty roast dinner, and fine wines, and expensive cigars. In short, he wished he were back in his old life, where his fortune meant something more than a briefcase full of cash.
The day came that he said something of this to his brother, and Münter said to him, 'All the money in the world could not buy the kind of happiness that I have, or the life that I have found for myself. My brother, you should content yourself as I do with the pleasure of hard work and good clean living.' 'Shove your good clean living up your arse,' Günter replied, 'I'm off to stay with Hünter.' And so saying, he left Münter to his farm and went into the woods.
In the woods, he met a charming young individual who accompanied him to the place where Hünter dwelt. Along the way they discussed the fortunes of the world, their place in it, and the importance of a strong Stock Market. Of course, Günter said nothing of his dealings in Pork Futures, just in case the young stranger were an agent for the evil Tax Man.
At length, they approached the clearing wherein Hünter had built a fine log house, and the young stranger said to Günter 'I am afraid this is as far as I go. If you should need me you shall only need to call me.' So saying, he handed to Günter a business card with a telephone number on it, and disappeared deeper into the forest.
'What a nice young chap,' Günter said to nobody in particular as he knocked on Hünter's door.
Hünter invited his brother in, and fed him and gave him lodgings without question, for where else should he go? That night they ate the roasted fowl that Hünter had shot in the forest, and drank hazelnut brandy that he had brewed in his little still. And so Günter was content, until the time came for him to go to his rest.
Günter lay on the bed that Hünter had made up for him, and he tossed and he turned, and he turned and he tossed. And no matter which way he lay, he could not get comfortable. The furs that covered the bed tickled his back, but when he turned over, they scratched his belly most dreadfully. First he was too warm, so he threw back the skins, and then he was too cold. Worst of all, they smelt unpleasantly of dead animal. He found that he missed his eiderdown quilt, his memory-foam mattress, his silk sheets, and the expensive air conditioning unit that kept his bedroom at a perfect 21°C within a tolerance of one degree, and could be changed by remote control.
In the morning he complained to Hünter, saying 'My brother, the bed was not so comfortable as I should have liked. I wish that I could have had a proper mattress beneath me, and a quilt, for then I am sure I should have slept more soundly.' Hünter thought quietly for a moment, and then replied, 'My brother, there are no shops in these woods where such things might be bought. Even if there were, I have no money with which to buy them.' 'But you have a fine mattress, and blankets, and sheets!' said Günter indignantly. 'Ah yes,' Hünter replied, 'but I had to trade a winter's supply of charcoal for those.'
'You mean you didn't buy them?' Günter exclaimed, and Hünter shook his head. Günter laughed, and said, 'But how can you live without money?' 'I need no money when I have all the riches of the woods at my disposal. I need never go hungry, or cold. Nor need I ever lack shelter with the great roof of the forest above my head. And as the forest nurtures me, so must I do my part to look after the forest.' 'Sounds like hard work to me.' 'Indeed,' answered Hünter, 'but there is great reward in a little hard work.' 'Some reward,' Günter retorted, 'doesn't sound like much of a fortune to me. I'd rather be back in the city.' And so saying, he stormed out of the house and wandered into the woods.
In time it began to get dark, and of course, Günter had become hopelessly lost. He thought about trying to call for help from Hünter, but didn't want to give the self-congratulatory bastard the satisfaction. Just as he was about to resign himself to a night in the open - to which he was not looking forward in the least - he remembered the handsome young stranger. 'Aha,' he said to himself, 'Perhaps that nice young man might be able to help me.' And so he called him, instead.
At once, it seemed, the young traveller stepped out from behind a tree, saying 'Friend Günter, how may I be of assistance?' 'I am lost in the woods, and I could do with somewhere to get my head down, and perhaps have a little brandy or two, to prevent a chill.' 'But of course!' the young journeyman said, 'You had but to say the word.' Günter thanked him from the bottom of his heart, and the two of them made their way along the road.
After a while, Günter's companion spoke, saying 'I was given to believe that you were staying with your brother. How did that work out for you?' Günter shook his head with despair. 'Awful. He treated me terribly. Him and that slob of a farmer, my other brother, Münter.' 'It must be a terrible burden to have a family such as this,' the young stranger said. 'I wish there were something I could do to help.' 'I wish that also,' said Günter. 'I wish that very much indeed.'
At length they came to the young man's house, and they went in, and feasted on roast meats and drank copious fine liqueurs, and presently Günter went to sleep in a comfortable bed and slept the sleep of the deeply drunk.
In the morning, he awoke to a cooked breakfast, and hot chocolate, and fresh bread. 'How came you to live in such luxury as this?' he asked. His youthful host replied, 'I am an attorney in property law, dealing in cases of disputed property.' Günter's mind, ever quick to a possibility, leapt into action. 'Perhaps… there is a way that you might help me,' he said, and the young lawyer smiled his white-toothed smile, for he had as quick a mind as Günter's.
The next day, Münter received a notice from the Tax Man to say that not once in all the time he had owned his farm had he paid a penny in taxes. Münter ran to his brother Hünter, saying 'they have taken everything - my house, my farm, my livelihood - I have nothing left but the shoes I am wearing!' Of course, Hünter took his brother in, telling him not to worry, and that he could stay in his log house until everything had blown over.
Günter was delighted with these events, and he said to the lawyer, 'I am so pleased - now Münter knows what it is like to be thrown onto the street without a single comfort in all the world.' The lawyer smiled his smile full of teeth, and said nothing.
The day after that, Hünter received papers requiring him to obtain a hunting license or pay the fine. And so, of course, he could not pay, and was sent away, with Münter in tow, and Günter lived happily ever after in a nice house that he bought with the last of his fortune, between the woods and the meadows, with a superb view of the mighty river."
"Daddy, is that how the story ends?"
"Well, Max, it does go on, but as there is very little else to tell that would be of interest to one so young as yourself, it is a good place to stop."
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Winston?"
"I don't understand."
"What don't you understand?"
"You said there was a… a lesson, or a piece of advice."
"Ah, yes, well. The lesson is, that one should always treat one's family with the respect and admiration that they deserve, or you shall never profit by it. And, I suppose, that one man's fortune is another's famine."
"Daddy," said Max, "where did Günter go to live? Was it in Münter's house?"
"No, Max, it was not."
"Did he live in Hünter's house?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"They were both pulled down to make way for a Wal-Mart."
"But what happened to Münter and Hünter?" asked Ernst.
"They went away, that's all you need to know."
"Did they be dead?"
"Let's just say they went on to lead a new and more profitable existence."
The three boys looked a little confused, and little Winston looked most confused of all, wrinkling his nostrils with the strain of thought. "Daddy…" he said, and stopped.
"Yes, Winston?"
"Why did you-"
"Günter-"
"Why did Günter be so mean to his brothers?"
"Because they were so inhospitable that they would have happily forced him to sleep rough in the cold, dark forest, where any stranger could have done him harm. Did they not deserve their fate?"
"But you didn't tell us what happened to-"
"Look, no more questions. It is nearly time for you all to be in your beds. Otherwise tomorrow, you shall all be too tired to eat your bacon at breakfast. Eat up your ham and bread, and be off to bed with you all."
"Daddy, why must we always eat bacon?"
"Because, my son. Just because."
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