Rude Stories Read online

  “Why aren’t you dancing too, you grumptious, old stick shank?” she asked Harry.

  Harry couldn’t even reply. Bits of her had started flying off in all directions. He had his work cut out for him, sweeping them up. Fingers and toes, ribs and collarbones – they were all over.

  “Faster,” she told the fiddler. “Faster.”

  A hip bone came Harry’s way. He caught it.

  “Fun, fun, fun, fun.”

  Her spine had given up on the whole business. There was only her head now, moving and floating and swaying through the air.

  “Fun, fun.…”

  Wouldn’t you know it? Her jaw had dropped off. It had fallen to the floor.

  “I reckon maybe that’s enough for her,” Harry said.

  He was right too. Her head couldn’t go on by itself much longer. It drifted under the kitchen table. There it stayed.

  “I expect you need a rest,” said Harry to the fiddler.

  The fiddler was sweating. He put down his bow.

  “Would you like me to cook you a big dinner?” Harry asked him. “Would you like me to give you a bed?”

  “It’d be grand,” said the fiddler.

  “I’m a good cook. I’ve had lots of practice,” said Harry. “I’ll just finish cleaning up.”

  He put his wife’s bones outside in a pile. He and the fiddler had a lovely meal together. They even had some wine.

  “You’re welcome back any time you want to come stay here,” Harry told the fiddler in the morning.

  The fiddler said he might do that, he just might. He went on his way.

  Harry was left to his own devices. He looked out the window. He saw the sun was shining. He saw it was a beautiful spring day. He took that rocking chair to the bottom of the garden and he burned it. He let the flames rise high. He went out and bought himself a chair that was softer, a chair he could laze in. He spent quite a while lazing and taking pleasure in things from that time on.

  I’m not too keen on story morals, but I reckon there’s got to be one for this. If you ask me, I’d say it has to do with how behaving yourself is something you should consider whether you’re alive or dead.

  Still, you might think Harry’s wife was really just waiting around until she could go out happy. There’s at least a fair chance you might be right.

  Oh rudity, screwdity, scrabble.

  Can I help it if on certain days

  My stomach is given to rumbling,

  My mind’s in a kind of a haze?

  My fingers just reach up to scratch at

  What happens to be on my head?

  My eyeballs get bigger and rounder

  And fill my poor daddy with dread?

  Have you heard about Ti-Jean? Have you? He wasn’t rude at all. That doesn’t mean rude things didn’t happen to him. They happened quite often, in fact. Especially if you count rude as …

  I don’t think I’ll tell you about that though.

  I think I’ll just tell you when the once of Ti-Jean’s story was. It was a good once, no doubt about it. It was the once when cows hadn’t even learned to moo yet, cats couldn’t meow, and stores hadn’t been invented. If you wanted a garden fork or a refrigerator or a set of men’s long underwear, you had to pick it off a tree.

  The big thing to know about Ti-Jean is that he was a dreamer, and what he dreamed about mostly was girls. The trouble was, he didn’t know any. His family was poor. They lived on a little farm, but it never seemed to produce much. They had to sell everything they grew to keep the landlord from turning them out. This year, too, it had been worse than ever. They were looking forward to a winter of eating nothing but turnips.

  No girls in sight!

  Then, they had a surprise. They got up one morning to find the pig had given birth to three lovely piglets. They weren’t just ordinary piglets either. There was a red one, there was a green one, and there was a blue one.

  Ti-Jean’s father rubbed his hands together. “Maybe this’ll save us,” he said.

  From that day onward, the whole family did everything they could to keep those piglets strong. They wrapped them in blankets at night; they went out into the forest to gather acorns for pig feed during the day. They kept the sty so clean you could’ve eaten out of the trough.

  Time came when those piglets were the right age for taking to the market to sell. Ti-Jean volunteered. He thought the market might be the place to go for meeting some you-know-whos.

  “You must get a good price,” his father told him.

  Ti-Jean promised he would. He picked up the little red piglet and put it in a sack. Off he went, whistling away to himself with the sack over his shoulder, dreaming his dreams. Some of those dreams were about what the family was going to get to eat through the winter – stews and steaks and roasts. But mostly those dreams were about soft, smooth cheeks and lovely dancing eyes.

  He hadn’t gone very far when he heard a carriage coming behind him. It was big and it was drawn by six white horses. To his amazement, instead of going past him, it stopped. A princess stepped out. She was smiling and she was beautiful. Her cheeks! They looked softer than he could have imagined; they were smoother. Her eyes! They were – they were dancing!

  “I’d like to see what you are carrying in your sack,” the princess told him.

  Ti-Jean opened the sack at once.

  “I have never seen a red piglet before,” said the princess.

  “I’m taking it to the market to sell,” Ti-Jean replied.

  “The market is a long way to walk,” said the princess.

  Ti-Jean nodded in agreement.

  “You could give the piglet to me,” said the princess.

  The turnips flashed through Ti-Jean’s mind.

  “If you would give the piglet to me, I would take you into my carriage. I would show you something you have never seen before.”

  The turnips flew off from Ti-Jean’s thoughts, as if they’d never been. Before he knew it, he was passing the little red piglet in the sack over to the coachman. He was politely helping the princess up the carriage steps. He was climbing in himself. He was closing the carriage curtains, just as she’d told him. He was kneeling beside her.

  “Are you ready?” the princess asked him.

  “I am ready,” Ti-Jean whispered.

  “So!” said the princess.

  She lifted up her long gown. She lifted up her long petticoats. She showed Ti-Jean her ankle. Ti-Jean saw a mark there. The mark was in the shape of the sun. The princess let her gown and her petticoats fall into place again.

  “Is that all?” Ti-Jean asked her.

  “It is plenty,” said the princess. “You must step down now. I have matters to attend to. I must be on my way.”

  Ti-Jean stepped down. He stood there, watching the carriage and the princess disappearing and thinking about what his mother and his father were going to say to him. He wasn’t dreaming about that.

  His father told him he was stupid and a whole lot of things that were worse. His mother set him into eating turnips and only turnips that very night.

  “I’ll go off again in the morning. I’ll take the green piglet,” Ti-Jean told them.

  “Will you take it to the market?” asked his father.

  “For sure. And I’ll come back with a lot of money,” he declared.

  Ti-Jean fell asleep that night dreaming money and princess dreams, although I think he dreamed about the princess more.

  Still, he wanted to be careful. He had turnips for breakfast, just to remind himself of what his purpose was.

  He set out right enough. He put the green piglet in another sack. He swung that sack over his shoulder. Of course, though, he was hoping. He couldn’t help himself. You can guess what he was hoping for.

  Sure enough, there was the carriage coming behind him. There were the six white horses. There was the princess, stepping out.

  “What have you got for me to look at today?” she asked him.

  There can’t be any harm in her jus
t looking, Ti-Jean thought. He opened the sack.

  “A green piglet today. Isn’t that amazing?” the princess burst out.

  “It is amazing,” Ti-Jean replied. “It might even be worth gold.”

  “But it is so very sweet,” said the princess. “And since I already have a red one …”

  Ti-Jean tried to bring the taste of turnips to his mouth. Suddenly turnips didn’t seem so bad.

  “I could save you the walk. You could give me the green piglet also,” said the princess.

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Ti-Jean managed to get out.

  “But if you would give it to me, I would take you into my carriage and show you something you have never seen before.”

  What is so terrible about turnips at every meal? Ti-Jean wondered. What is so very wrong with that?

  He gave the green piglet in the sack to the coachman. He helped the princess into the carriage. He closed the carriage curtains. He knelt down beside her.

  The princess lifted up her long gown. She lifted up her long petticoats. She raised them to her knee. Ti-Jean saw there was another mark. This mark looked like the moon.

  “The sun and the moon,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” said the princess.

  “Is that all?” asked Ti-Jean as she lowered her petticoats and her gown once more.

  “It is plenty,” said the princess. “I must be on my way.”

  Ti-Jean stepped out of the carriage. He waited by the roadside, waving good-bye. He went home very slowly. His parents were not pleased to see him. They were not pleased at all. His father took out a stick and threatened to beat him. His mother gave him double turnips. She made him clean his plate.

  “Give me one more chance,” Ti-Jean begged them.

  “The blue piglet is all that is left to us,” said his father.

  “Yes,” said Ti-Jean. “I know.”

  He went to bed early. He tried very hard to dream only of pigs and sales. Morning came. He got up before it was light. He didn’t eat any breakfast. He didn’t want to waste any time.

  He put the blue piglet in a sack. He swung that sack over his shoulder. He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The carriage with the white horses thundered up behind him, just as it had the other days. The princess stepped out of it. She smiled at him.

  “Do you have another piglet for me to see?” she asked.

  “I do,” said Ti-Jean, “But … ”

  “But surely I may look at it.”

  There is no harm in looking, Ti-Jean thought.

  “A blue piglet this time.” The princess was so excited.

  “I have to go to … ”

  “Three colored piglets would be perfect. A red one, a green one, and a blue one.”

  “My parents will be eating … ”

  “If you would give me the blue one, I would take you into my carriage and I would show you something no man has seen – not ever.”

  “No man?”

  Ti-Jean was putting the blue piglet, in its sack, into the hands of the coachman. He was helping the princess into the carriage. He was climbing up himself. He was closing the curtains. He was kneeling beside her.

  She was lifting up her long gown. She was lifting up her long petticoats. She was raising them to her thigh. Ti-Jean saw there was another mark. This mark looked like the stars.

  “The sun and the moon and the stars,” he murmured.

  “The sun and the moon and the stars,” said the princess. She let her gown and her petticoats fall again. She settled them around her.

  “Is that all?” Ti-Jean asked her.

  “It is all,” she said.

  Ti-Jean got back down onto the road. The coachman whipped the six white horses. The carriage moved off. Ti-Jean watched and watched until all he could see was a cloud of dust. When even the dust was gone, he started walking home once more. His father and his mother were so angry they wouldn’t even speak to him. That was the worst of all. Ti-Jean busied himself with clearing out the root cellar and putting turnips into it. His back ached with the work.

  Winter came. It was a cold one, cold and long. Every day, when he and his father and his mother sat down to eat, Ti-Jean thought about what an idiot he’d been. He also thought about the princess. He was still a dreamer. Nothing could alter that. Nothing could change how beautiful she’d seemed to him.

  Winter passed. Spring flowers started blooming. One day, a herald rode up to the farm. He was dressed all in finery. He was riding a great black horse. He blew on his trumpet and he made an announcement.

  “Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! I have upon this scroll a message from the king.”

  Ti-Jean and his parents came into the yard to listen. They’d never seen a herald. They’d never heard a message from the king in all their lives. The herald blew on his trumpet again.

  “Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! Let any man who has knowledge of a secret belonging to the princess come to stand before the king’s throne. He who speaks the secret well and truly will win her hand in marriage. Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye!”

  Ti-Jean could hardly believe his ears. The herald rode off. Ti-Jean started dancing about all over.

  “I know it! I know it! I know it!” he shouted out.

  His father looked at him as if he’d gone crazy. His mother did as well.

  “I know the princess’s secret. I know it.”

  His father and mother sighed. They went into the house. They left him to shout and dance any way he wanted.

  Ti-Jean didn’t care. He was dressed in his work clothes. He didn’t care about that either. He went running off at once. He came to the city. He came to the palace. Already there was this huge, long lineup. There were men who had come from far and near to try for the princess’s hand. The lineup went round the palace three times and out of the gate.

  All the men were rich. Ti-Jean could see that. They were all talking to each other. They weren’t paying him any attention. He tucked himself in at the end of the line. Seemed like he was the last. Everyone else had got there faster. Everyone else had come on horseback or in carriages of their own.

  Slowly, slowly the line went forward. There was more and more excitement in spite of how every minute or so there was some man coming out of the castle looking like his mother had died. Night fell. Finally, Ti-Jean was inside the palace. He could see the princess, sitting on her throne. What was left of the line of suitors was going up the long red carpet. He’d arrived. He was standing in front of her, and in front of the king as well.

  The king looked as if he wanted his supper. He looked as if he certainly didn’t want to be bothered with the likes of Ti-Jean.

  “Just this one more,” the princess pleaded.

  The king rolled his eyes at Ti-Jean’s ragged jacket. He sniffed in disgust over Ti-Jean’s battered boots. Still, he nodded to show he was giving his consent.

  “Step forward,” the highest of the king’s high mucky-mucks called out.

  Ti-Jean went to where the mucky-muck pointed, to the bottom of the throne steps. He wanted to look at the princess, to see if she was smiling at him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t seem to raise his eyes.

  “Speak,” said the king.

  Ti-Jean gathered all his courage. “I cannot, your majesty,” he replied.

  “Is that not what you have come for?”

  “It is, your majesty.”

  “Speak or depart,” cried the lord high mucky-muck. “What is the princess’s secret?”

  “Your majesty, I believe it is private,” said Ti-Jean. “It should not be spoken in front of everyone. It should not be said aloud.”

  At that, the princess laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh. It was a laugh of joy. When Ti-Jean heard it, his heart beat faster.

  “If he were to approach, he could tell it to me alone,” the princess suggested.

  The king was growing hungrier and hungrier. “Let him approach the princess,” he decreed.

  “Come,” said the princess.

  Ti-Jean
walked up the steps.

  “Don’t be afraid,” said the princess.

  She didn’t know that his biggest fear was that this was another of his dreams. Once more he knelt down at her feet. This time, though, she bent down to him so he could whisper in her ear.

  “The sun and the moon and the stars,” he said to her.

  “You must go to the king and tell him as well,” she ordered.

  Ti-Jean did that. The king nearly fainted, but the princess looked as if Ti-Jean had given her the most precious gift in all the world.

  After the princess and Ti-Jean had had a chance to get to know each other more, a wonderful wedding was arranged. There was a great big feast with all sorts of delicacies and not a hint of a turnip anywhere. Ti-Jean’s parents came, for sure they did. Now that he was a prince, Ti-Jean made certain they had a better life.

  It’s funny though. When no one in the family had to eat turnips any longer, they all came to realize how much they liked them. Ti-Jean had turnips put on the palace menu quite often after that.

  He and the princess grew ever happier. They saw to it those piglets were looked after – one red, one green, one blue. The piglets turned into friendly, contented porkers. They were enormous. They let out oinks of delight when Ti-Jean and the princess came to visit them to scratch them behind their ears. They lived in sties like palaces. No one said anything within earshot of Ti-Jean and the princess about how pigs might possibly be used as meat. No one did anything about it either. That’s how it is always, I’m supposing. There are some who win and some who lose.

  I reckon you can figure out what was rude in this story and what wasn’t. I reckon it’s up to you.

  I don’t think I quite understand it.

  I don’t think I know what rude means.

  I don’t know what’s wrong with my bottom,

  Why I have to keep wearing my jeans.

  Why can’t I be more like my uncle?

  Why can’t I stick out my tongue

  And waggle my ears at those neighbors

  Who won’t let me chew on their gum?

  We have to get to Weesageechuk. We do, really. It’s hard to talk about him though. There’s about as much use in trying to account for Weesageechuk as there is in trying to account for the sunny day that comes after the tornado that blows your house down, the pounding rain that makes you want to dance.