The Curious Saga of Captain Turdo Page #4

4 Meditations on the Tyranny of Materialism

• Satire

								

As the tornado raged, suddenly, from somewhere inside its depths, there flew a table and a single chair, landing right in front of Gordie. Then came fine china and crystal glassware, and finally, choice meats and fine wine. As Gordie sat and ate, he thought to himself, “was my heart not burning within me the entire time I stood by his side?”   
As Big Doug flew back to outer space, he realized that his hunger had been satisfied. Then he paused for a moment and called out loud, “Bognar, my sneaky little servant, come to me!” A small little wizard appeared before him, clearly upset at having been summoned. He was bald on the top of his head, but had several long wisps of greasy black hair flowing down his neck; his tiny bony body was cloaked in a deep blue robe.  “Explain yourself, Bognar.” The little wizard’s chest puffed up and his lips curled in a wicked imitation of a smile: “I have placed a ruler over this land whose hands will blot out your name forever!” Big Doug’s gaze pierced through Bognar as he considered these words. Finally he spoke: “Bognar, in this matter you have done what is right and true (at this, the little wizard winced), for you have given the people of this land the desire of their hearts; this is a fearful people who long to be held because they fear what they cannot see. But my name shall never be forgotten, for there is one…perhaps two in this land who still think of me. And I intend to help them. 

Episode I 
 Bognar was falling; down, down, down he went. He had no idea how long he had been falling, but he knew quite well that he was presently experiencing a terribly unpleasant sensation. The air was getting suffocatingly thick and It felt as if he was sinking through warm mud.  Suddenly, his fall was interrupted with a hard thud. He gathered himself and looked around. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he realized that he had landed in a realm that he had only glimpsed from far above. 
Then He looked up and saw the object of his desire still high above him. He hadn’t destroyed it. The Tree of Big Doug was still shining magnificently in the sky, still cradling suns and moons and galaxies within it.  Bognar still felt in his heart the desire to chop it down and tear it to shreds. He wanted to rip it apart, limb from limb.  He wanted to strangle the life out of it. Then he realized he still had one of its branches clasped tightly in his hand. The once golden bark of the branch had turned a ghostly grey. As he considered the branch in his hand, suddenly a voice, high and lofty, full of wonder and power, spoke: “Bognar, you can never return to my transcendent realm, for I have fixed a chasm between it and the one in which you find yourself. You shall spend your days as a wandering outcast, a shadow among the flesh; your longings shall never be satisfied.” 
Now, the inhabitants of the lower realm in which Bognar now found himself  frequently thought wonderful and ineffable thoughts about Big Doug, sang majestic and triumphant songs about the past, and built buildings that reflected the glory and magnificence of Big Doug’s Blessed Realm. So as Bognar wondered among the lands of the lower realm, all of this constantly reminded him of his humiliation and the loss of his once lofty status. He thought, “if only I could make this race focus on themselves and what is in front of them, what they can see with their eyes and feel with their hands, they will forget the name of Big Doug forever. Yes. Yes!! This is what I shall do!” So Bognar took the now ghostly branch of the tree of big Doug, hollowed it and warped it into a crude instrument. Then he breathed out all of his power into it and declared, “this warhorn shall be the instrument of my chosen vessel and its sounding shall announce the beginning of the war against Big Doug.” So Bognar wandered throughout the lands, subtly weaving his influence among kings and queens and waiting for the right time to strike. 
Now at  that time, Johnson Turdo Senior was king of the Land to the North. King Turdo senior was getting on in years when his wife gave birth to their first son. He named his son Johnson Junior. As young Johnson grew, his father saw that his son was completely incompetent at everything he tried to do. “How shall I have an heir to rule over this country when I am gone,” he lamented, “ for this boy is inept and good for nothing! Surely, I shall need to find another to take my place.”  So when young Johnson became of school age, his father enrolled him into thumb twiddling school. Young Johnson excelled in the field, receiving top academic honors and a doctorate degree. He out twiddled even the most experienced thumb twiddler. He was a pioneer in his field and created several new techniques. He could twiddle his thumbs forwards and backwards; He could twiddle them above his head and behind his back; He could twiddle them with one eye closed and one open; He could even twiddle one thumb forwards while twiddling the other backwards. As Johnson twiddled his thumbs each day, his hands grew strong and dexterous. Bognar looked on, clearly delighted. He declared to himself, “Surely this is my chosen vessel, the fleshly captain of my war against Big Doug! No thought of any consequence passes through his brain, and his hands will, in time, be able to grasp like no other! Yes! Surely he is the one!” 
As young Johnson passed his days twiddling, he eagerly anticipated the death of his father. “Why can’t this old stinky man just die so that I can wear the fancy royal robes and the shiny crown! Oh! How super fabulous I will look when I don them!!” One day, royal messengers came to him and declared, “We have come here from your father’s palace; your father is dead.” Upon hearing the news, Johnson was elated: “Finally, my father is dead! Now I shall don his robes and be the most super fabulous king in all the lands!!” But his father’s advisors had other plans: “We have chosen another to be king. We have made arrangements for you to continue to live a comfortable life.” Johnson let out a shriek and ran crying like a wild man out of the royal palace. He hid himself from any onlookers in thick bushes and began to twiddle his thumbs for comfort. 
As he sat twiddling in the bushes and crying, Bognar appeared to him. He said to Johnson, “Why do you cry, my son?” Through his sobs he replied, “My dad’s servants won’t let me wear the sparkly robes and shiny crown.”  “Why!” Bognar exclaimed, “If I had hands like yours, I would be thrilled!” Johnson looked down at his hands and admitted that they were, indeed, quite nice. “How would you like your hands to always be full and to have all your wildest desires within reach? I am Bognar and I am here to make your dreams come true! I have traveled to and fro throughout the lands,  and I have not seen another with hands like yours!  When the people of this land see what pleasures your hands can bring, they will all bend to your will! By your pleasure-full and dexterous touch you will bring unity and a lasting peace to this divided and troubled land.” Then Bognar handed young Johnson his warhorn, and instructed him, “when you blow this, you will receive my power. And none shall be able to resist you.” 

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