Adventurous George (10)

For at least 6000 years, depending on which god has enraptured one's heart, and possibly a bit longer, charming spirits have added their two cents worth to the aesthetic experience of the human condition. Man has resorted to allegorical mediums in warding off the the naughtiest of these tricksters. So it was not without a degree of history backed by tried and true methodology that George, not in the mood to share his little cabin with a horrible hairy not to mention hateful and cunning beastly spirit, took out his case of nifty carving tools and went to work on a good sized piece of a stump his buck saw had made slow work of squaring off in the bush. He seated his unblemished block on a low bench and began the process of hewing an hornswoggle which would fry the globoids off any well endowed Adam-zad. George had not much care for the beauty of his masterpiece, it being that ugliness may work to his advantage, and when he was done he left no stone unturned. He proffered up a burnt offering to his mighty eidolon and abandoned any lurking evil to it's expedience.

And so it came to pass that one cold evening as the ice thunderously crackled out on the lake, that George heard a little something which began with a huffing and puffing of the “And I'll b,b,b,b,blow your house down variety.” Was that coming from some hateful cunning swinish eyes, grunting and chuckling at him for his blissful exultation as he sat with Mottles purring on his lap, them both contemplating his mighty fine hornswoggle? The huffing and puffing grew in stature to a shriek as the tightly sealed cabin began inhaling vapours from every teeny-weeny microbic chink available to their pleasure. The floor begin to rattle and tremble as the mighty hornswoggle faced his resplendency towards the door. The battle which ensued was memorable to say the least as hornswoggle sat statedly grinning at the door angering the annoyed hairy beast to no end. Then the conjuring commenced with horrible shrieks and screams from the roof top as the cabin filled with black sooty smoke and the Acme Wood Stove was motivated to take on a red glow in the dark, the stove pipe taking the brunt of the wizardry gleaming hot red in the eeriness of the bleakened battleground. Hornswoggle held his ground, his outlandish grin now begrimed with soot leering in mockery at the steadfastly holding door. His sorcery proved the more efficacious as the hairy cunning beast rattled the stove pipe in one last gesture of bluster before he limped off utterly defeated into the cold dark night.

The air settled, the stove regained it's composure, Mottles retracted his claws from the ceiling, and George swept everything off with his handmade grass broom and they shook the quilt out outside. George knew deep in his heart that the cunning hateful hairy beast would ne'er to bother him ever again. He gave his hornswoggle a great big kiss on his bald noggin as he straightened him out on his bench. Life would be good.

Before he went to sleep that night with Mottles unravelling himself on his feet, George made a mental note to add a 6” chimney brush to his list if he ever again ordered supplies from the mainland.

(To be continued)