February 24th, 2007 -a Saturday evening.

It did feel good to be out of the house again.
And I would like to say that, I did think that I looked rather striking and perhaps even suavely debonair in my finely pressed suit and jacket. I would like to say that I had thought such things but thinking about oneself is so unbecoming. Thinking at all, it seems, is a rather untimely and unkempt manner.

The walkway leading to the old manor was riddled with poorly cobbled stones and was hardly appropriate for receiving guests. But my shoes were of a good foreign leather. All who are privy to the fashionable knowledges know that to wear domestic is to wear disgrace. I do feel awfully sorry however, for all of the gentlemen living in Paris who are forced to wear their own clothes simply because they are the best.

The walk was brisk and I did not notice it. One must be most careful not to notice the things that one is unaware of. A solitary gas lamp hung on a brass cantilever above the entrance-way, and as I approached, it politely stopped swaying in the wind. I considered the manners of the antique light, remarking that surely a phosphorescent would have continued on swinging in such a highly shameful fashion.

I had made my way inside and had found myself almost to the foyer before I had realized what I had done. I must have been so caught up in my reflections that I had entered in without knocking. I decided that one must be careful to whom one gives considerations.

Pausing a moment, I thought I was hearing a rather strange and obnoxious sound. But thinking the better of it; I dismissed it as quite normal and inoffensive.

I retraced my steps noting, I am quite certain; the exact marble tiles to which I stepped upon when entering. I have always held as one of my most adamant principles that one should always leave this world in the manner in which they came in.

Now back upon the front steps and under the steady lantern I rang the bell three distinct times and knocked twice. You see I have never trusted a thing when it had an obvious alternative.

I posed, waiting for the door. I stuck one foot a bit out from the other and turned my head away and to the moon, which seemed either surprisingly large or of a much closer proximity than I ever had remembered it. I do rather like things that seem to be something that they are not. It is horrible manners to go about parading as oneself.

I was careful not to ponder this further in case I should happen to lose myself once again. Although to be quite honest it is not the losing of oneself that is so terribly inconvenient, it tends to be the finding of oneself that is so needlessly difficult.

I rang and knocked again. Patience is a most noble trend and my host must be quite honorable for he was being very patient in his desire to open his door and admit me.

I held my breath and listened, one can never hear a thing when one is busy with the trouble of breathing. I always try not to breathe, I try to occupy my lungs with as much smoking and talking as possible so as to not even allow them the time to breath. But as I was listening I heard an interrupting voice call out,

The door is most unlocked, please find yourself inside.

I almost turned around and left that instant, how foolish it is to allow a guest to admit themselves. Why, I should think that anybody could be inside at this point. But since I had already found myself inside once I decided that it would not be too difficult to find myself there again.

I deposited my coat in the antechamber taking note of the towering bureaus and armoires, the ceiling must have stood some thirty feet above my head to accommodate them. A chandelier hung in every hallway and two or three of them in every room. What an excess of suspended lighting. One is truly prosperous when they flaunt their defiance of gravity with every fixture.

I listened to the soft music, a rather reasonable song suited to become the background of some unreasonable conversation. Enough of an impression to distract one from the lulls of communication but not entertaining enough to attract active listeners.

I was standing in front of a great staircase that arched up and descended again on the other side, as if it were a convenient footbridge over a gentle waterway.

I mounted the steps with an air of confidence around me, but as I reached the highest step I began to feel quite lightheaded. A series of intense visions proceeded to follow.

I imagined myself charming every guest and rousing them to actions that I myself would not have done alone. I pictured a great group of gentlemen in a chorus line; some in front on one knee and the rest standing behind with our arms on each others shoulders while we serenaded the ladies with a choral improvisation sung from my cues.

I imagined popping cork after cork from champagne bottles sending streams of white foam shooting out in long wet arches.
I could not hold in my laughter as I pictured myself bowing to kiss the ringed hands of some entourage of royalty and I watched for their eyes to grow wide and their mouths pursed into tiny looks of terror as they noticed the gems and precious stones missing from their ringed fingers.

I stood and smiled revealing two rows of rubies, emeralds, obsidians, and opals. We all began to laugh. The old king grabbed the sides of his round belly, rubbing his large mittened hands over his crimson velvet robe.

And we all continued to laugh. The ladies of the court screaming and gasping as if there was not enough air to fill their lungs. The duke began clutching at and pulling at the ends of his waxed mustache. His face a deep purple.

We cannot stop our laughter. It seems as if some strange devil has grabbed us, it is like swimming against and with a changing tide. Suddenly we all begin to cry.
We weep. Falling to our knees sobbing, our chests now drop in great heaving sighs. We stare into each others faces and find only desperation and despair. Looks of awful wretched pain and tormenting anguish. There is no hope for even one of us, it seems. We are all to die this very moment.

The tears are large and heavy and slip down into my mouth, I begin to choke, or drown. My face contorts and spasms. Soaking wet and writhing in the pool of our tears I begin to cough. Rubies, emeralds, obsidians, and opals are cast out and land upon my king and queen, upon my duke and duchess. The stones splash against them in great bursts of liquid color. They close their eyes and tiny droplets cling to their eyelashes. The colors soak them through. Like the crayoned pages of a child who has but one color per figure.

They rise one by one, joining hands. They smile and stare at me. I can only kneel and lower my head. I am ashamed. The queen places her hand upon my cheek and catches my tears in her palm. I gaze down and see a handful of tiny shimmering diamonds. Millions of them set in place like a beach of sand grains.

She sings out and the diamond dust trembles and an emerald tortoise has unburied himself. Licking his turtle beak he smiles at me before thrusting his head back into his shell. I hear him resonate; his little shell vibrates beautifully as if one could get ones ear close enough to the paper wall of a hornets hive. The queen sings out once again and two brilliant white doves descend from above and perch themselves upon my shoulders.

They flap their tiny heartbeat wings ever so softly. I have found that they have raised me to my feet. The queen empties her hand into my jacket pocket. In the reflection of our eyes the doves disappear.

I stopped and found myself upon the bottom step of the staircase. The image was so vivid and I had let it run away with me so terribly. I checked my jacket pocket and found nothing there. That is the trouble with ones wildest imaginations they hardly ever leave you with anything except for the desire that you wish they had.

Turning round I gazed at the arching white staircase I from which I had just descended. I was certain that this time I should not very much like to leave the way I entered. For what good are ones most adamant principles if one cannot excuse oneself from them.

And besides my voyage had left me quite shaken, one should never be held to his promises unless he is utterly settled, and even then only if his promises are convenient. I found my eyes were quite tired and I decided that I should like a drink right away.

I continued on through the strange mansion until I finally reached the entranceway to the grand dining room. Outside stood a very peculiar looking man. Now I say peculiar but what I really mean is that he was perfectly dull. Of course one should rarely say what he means; otherwise he is quite boring and a secret to no one.

He stood in front of a magnificent doorway, dark bronze with golden hinges and knobs. It had several panels of decadent engravings. But the man stood, round faced and bent over. The top of his head was bald and I think, waxed, for it reflected a great deal of the golden light off of the door.

The little man spoke up.

Ah Monsieur. They hold dinner waiting for you, please enter.

Ah yes, why thank you. Say would you not happen to have a drink upon you. I am afraid I have found myself exceptionally tired and I simply must wake up a bit.

Certainly Sir, though I must warn you, this drink is not exactly what you are looking for, but as I am told exactly what is looking for you.

The small man produced a small silver vial and removing the top placed it in my hand. I proceeded to drink. I found it stale like young brandy. But I emptied the tiny flask regardless and handed it back to the doorman with a dry smile. He held the door for me. I entered.

My goodness! Before me setting around a large oak table were twelve empty thrones. The table was bare save for one place setting at the head. I sat down and pouted vehemently.

Surely this must be some horrible mistake. At my place I found a large glass goblet with small rubies fastened around it and a large bottle of wine wrapped round with a wet twine cord many times over. I poured myself a glass and sipped despondently.

A violet table cloth hung to the floor on all sides. High backed thrones made of dark wood with velvet cushions were gathered around the table. Large tapestries with yellow tassels adorned the walls. The twelve candles of the large chandelier poised above the table, all flickered in unison. How very polite of them.

I removed a cigarette from my case and held it between my eye and the flame of a candle. Squinting I lost all manner of depth perception and consequently my cigarette was lit. The trick to any real consequence is perception, you see.

I had just decided to leave when I noticed directly to my right in one of the thrones sat a small brown faun.

The young deer was dark spotted and with a white crest upon his chest. Such a beautiful face and large eyes. His long legs with their coal black hoofs sprawled under him in quite an unusual fashion. Though it must be quite difficult, not to mention uncomfortable, for a faun to sit at all.

Good day young Faun. Welcome to dinner.

And with the softest little voice the young faun poured his immense white eyes into mine.

Good day M’Lord. I am the Wandering Faun and I am very pleased to dine with you this eve.

Ah well, I am quite pleased in your arrival my friend.

Well we have come at your request M’Lord. And one does not refuse the request of friends.

Surely not, but just now you said “we”. There are more arriving?

There are more arrived sir.

And with that I heard a faint voice yell out gruffly.

Is monsieur blind?! The Fool. Of course we are more than one!

Behind the left ear of the Wandering Faun there sat perched a fat black tick. He looked dastardly and I could hardly imagine such a foul and vile creature upon my new friend, drinking his fill of the faun’s sweet blood. The parasite! The Fiend!

How dare you, you Flea! You Vermin! Oh Wandering Faun but give me the word and I shall remove him and burn him to death with the tip of my cigarette!

Oh no M’Lord. I could not have it; he is my friend and has requested passage to our destination. And one does not refuse the request of ones friends.

That’s right you ass in a suit. I am the Menacing Tick and I am the friend of this faun. We will not have anymore of your insults! Will we Faun my friend?

The tick whispered something into the young deer’s ears and the faun shook his little head nervously. The tick rubbed his greasy hands together and twirled the ends of his waxed mustache.

I was enraged at such an injustice, but the creatures logic was infallible. One must never argue with infallible logic. Unless of course one is in the mood to argue, then one can argue about anything and it matters not.

Yet still I longed to purge the creature with the smoldering end of my cigarette.

So wandering faun, where is it that you are wandering, and to which destination are you delivering The Menacing Tick?

Oh M’Lord. I think one often finds oneself traveling and rarely if ever knows the destination. I am the Wandering Faun and so I wander. Tick is my friend and so we wander together.

Ah, I can see you are a noble creature and that you will find your way without the best of directions. I bid you luck on your journey and offer that there is no better guide on ones journey then a good meal in a full belly.

Oh surely M’Lord. Let dinner be started.

As I gazed around the table I saw around me not a single empty throne. All manner of guests where there. Creatures of the forest, of the earth, of the air, and even a song had sat down upon the far end of the table. She smiled at me with such a shameful flirtation that I blushed. She was seated quite comfortably for a good song always sits well with me.

Next to the faun overflowing in his seat was a small mountain. His spring melt water stream was trickling down and to the floor and the large black spider next to him was holding several glasses underneath collecting the water for drinking. In each of her eight hands she held a glass; some already full, save one hand which held a smoking cigarette in its long pearl holder.

She passed the glasses round to everyone who had them set down aside their plates.

All manner of silverware and china was now set upon the table. To my left sat Juggling. An ever mobile spirit who was tumbling and tossing the wisps of himself about. I recognized him clearly and introduced myself immediately.

Ah, Juggling! How good it is to see you again. Why last I think it was I came across you with some traveling men from the orient!

Juggling hardly seemed surprised to see me, and tossed his words about quite carelessly.

Oh Allo! GOOOoooOOOoooooOOOdddd day to you M’Lord. Yes I quite remember that day. One of the men got into quite a disagreement with me. A scuffle broke out between us and for some time we were throwing, knives, swords, torches, and even a poisoned dagger at one another! But surely my lord you should have found me yourself. I am really not hard to invite, and it really only takes a few things to get me going!

Oh of course Juggling, how silly of me!

Next to Juggling was a large brown bear who was stooped over his plate asleep. His large paws folded under his head and he was resting his black snout upon his saucer.

He wore a simple green beret with a brilliant red feather in it. He would have looked rather dashing if he wasn’t so very unconscious. As it there was still something rather charming about him.

Next to the charmin’ bear very stiffly perched was a great thick Maple Tree.

His bark was old and hard and jutted from his trunk in all directions and locations. His canopy was full and green and two of his branches hung down and rested upon the arms of the chair. He looked over at me nervously waiting for a chance to introduce himself.

About his side were several young saplings fanned about him in a semicircle.

Ah good day Commandant Maple. How sweet of you to come. And I see you’ve brought your children? How wonderfully refreshing.

Ahem. Yes, beg my pardon sir. I did not know if it would please you to have me bring them. But I am afraid my children hardly ever leave my side.

Oh certainly Commandant. Of course I welcome the presence of your children with open arms as I do you. What joy it brings me to see them here with you.

Ahem. Thank you, sir. I certainly do love to have them about me, I’ve grown much attached to some of them and of course there are certain benefits to keeping the company of the young about you!

I ventured a good natured laugh with my guest, and as he snickered his branches shook and a few leaves fell about his rooted feet. A globule of thick brown syrup erupted from his side. The spider was quick to snatch up a small teapot and collect it.

The spider then poured a cup of the thick maple tea for each guest and we sipped gingerly. It was strong and good and my heart did beat delightfully as I drank.

I overheard the Menacing Tick.

Faun, think what joy it would be if we poured some of Mountains cold spring water into Verse Bears saucer! Why it’d run right up his snout and he would make such a humorous clamor when he awoke!

But-t-t Tick, will not he be mad?

No Faun, you fool he will surely congratulate you in your jest.

I watched as Faun weighed Ticks malevolence. I would not bear to see Tick spoil young Faun like this. As Faun sat up and began to nudge his glass I was compelled to spring.

I grabbed my own glass and quickly splashed it into the saucer. The water still bore small flakes of ice which clung to bears nostril. He sneezed and snorted and jumped up with quite a holler. He seemed quite angry and his snout flared out wide and with his teeth barred clenched a snarl tunnled out.

Why good morning M’Lord. Tis such a silly jest you have made. And I quite believe had it been anyone save our host, this joke would not have gone over quite so well.

His tongue wrapped around a fang, then another. He wrinkled his brow and his tilted his cap.

I apologize if I was clumsy, good natured and gentle Verse Bear. And I too quite believe if my bumbling hand had found anyone else they would not have been so understanding as you gentle Verse Bear. Please let me make it up to you.

It is not necessary M\Lord. But if you feel you must, I believe I have not sampled the honey from your hive in quite a while. Certainly your hornets must have grown lazy and prideful in the protection you have provided for them.

Of course you are right sweet Verse Bear, I shall send for them at once.

And almost instantly a large hive, with honeycombs the size of bread loaves was placed in front of the large bear.

He began delicately at first, sniffing about the end with his still wet snout. But in a matter of moments he had most of his face and one paw inside it and the honey was matted against his fur. He finished all of the hornets work and the boisterous creature still messy with honey proceeded to fall back asleep.

The young faun looked up at me; the Menacing Tick had his back turned in his stubborn disappointment.

The room untied itself with the sound of the bears snoring. Song began a decrescendo and we all sank deep into our seats.

At the end of the table one chair remained empty. In it sat the unexpected guest. No one knew quite when he would show up, but the chair was left for him and there he sat. He said almost nothing and no one paid him any bother. He left his food untouched and could not even manage to listen to sweet Song.

The first course had been brought, a cream soup made with some exotic, yet flavorless substance.

Perhaps the dish had lost its flavor in its travel from abroad. I sipped it in good faith. I have found that in good faith many things unstomachable can be swallowed.

The next course was a sort of steamed dumpling. A thin egg shaped pastry crust sat on a silver tray.
I pierced it with my fork and a torrent of steam burst forth. The pastry collapsed pathetically and I was dissatisfied with the whole arrangement.

We pashed each dish from right to left. Starting at the end down by Song and coming up to me. Every time I passed a dish to Juggling he just tossed it up into the air and let it tumble there. I am quite afraid no one on the left side of the table got to eat at all.

It did not matter much, for Verse Bear was still asleep and Commandant Maple was satisfied with emptying his water dish upon himself. And although I cannot be certain I thought I caught him playing footsie with Mountain. The unexpected guest seemed not to mind not eating and he sat in his empty chair with little change in disposition.

I saw the doorman from whom I took my earlier drink from, enter.

He carried a large silver platter with a handled cover. He set it in front of me. He tilted the cover towards me so that I could not see its contents and cut a small piece of whatever dish was inside. He then produced a long two pronged fork and with a mad glee in his eyes exclaimed.

Ah, Monsieur! Please be the first to sample the delicacy of the evening. For this dish is quite rare to find at any dinner party the world over.

He was acting quite odd, and though I called him dull once, I now was weary of how vulgar it was to be plain in such a setting.

I retrieved the fork from him and inspected the meat. It was a faint pink color, a slice of some over aged flesh. It was anything but tender and looked very dry.

I offered it to Faun.

Young faun; Oh my beloved guest. I offer to you the first taste of this rare delicacy.

I saw the Menacing Tick whispering to the young deer, he almost began to shout.

Take it! Eat it you fool. Take it!

Faun stuttered, his eyes were pearls.

N-n-n-na-Regretfully no, M’Lord. I cannot. It is yours and yours alone to eat.

I was not disappointed in the young faun, for he was truly a gentle creature. Tick turned his back to me once again.

I placed the morsel into my mouth and set the fork down.
The doorman’s eyes grey wide and eager. His waxed head gleamed blindingly, and little speckles of sweat could be seen to sizzle on his scalp.

The meat was terrible. The taste seemed to linger bitterly in my mouth. It was anything but tender and had a pungent odor which grew only stronger.

I attempted to swallow it several times and could not. It would cling in my throat. I choked and chewed.

And in good faith finally swallowed it.

Well M’Lord! Are you at all curious what you have eaten tonight?

The doorman was cackling.

Do you hunger for more? M’Lord? Or is your appetite staved for now? M’Lord?

My doorman. You may uncover the dish, if that is what you wish.

M’Lord Look upon your feast!

And with that the vile doorman removed the silver cover. In a dirty cast iron dish there boiling over, sat my own putrid heart!

M’Lord, this night you have been feasting upon yourself. You tasteless beast of a man. You are not appetizing even unto yourself! You are a mongrel in this world! A stain upon its form. You are unforgivable. You pathetic creature. Why in fact, I had to give you drink this evening before you could even enter. Do you know what your drink was M’Lord? Do you dare?

It was my own soul. Something I had lost myself years ago, and did not bother to look for. I know now that it was my soul I drank, and I knew it was my heart I had ate.

The doorman was stunned. His shirt buttons popped and the black hair of his arms hung out of his cuffs.
He was angry as ever. A furious man with no reason to tame himself.

Oh M’Lord, you knew, did you? Such a clever man you are, how clever. One who is both guest and host to himself. A man who drifts to a destination without reason. A man who cannot hold the emerald turtle for more than a dream-second! So go on! Tell me my liege, enlighten me, how did it taste?! How fared your awful heart!? How was it M’Lord? How did it taste!?

It needed salt.