Nutty the Squirrel and the Great High Court Conspiracy
There was an awkward moment in the High Court. None spoke. All listened. Soon they began to realize that, since none of them were speaking, there was really no point in listening. And so, Sir Fitzpatrick stood up and vanquished the moment’s awkwardness by giving the others’ listening a purpose.
“Gentlemen,” Sir Fitzpatrick began. “It is about time we spoke of the, how do you say, elephant in the room.”
“Elephant in the room,” replied everyone else.
“Thank you,” said Sir Fitzpatrick. “I always like to make sure that I’m getting these things right, you know. So what do you all think? Should we kill it?”
“Kill what?” everyone else asked.
“Why the elephant of course,” he said while pointing to a pink elephant standing in an oft-ignored corner of the room.
“Well I do say,” exclaimed Sir Georgina Rootabega Bullwick (Ryan, for short). “I didn’t realize we had a corner with an elephant in it!”
“Well we do, Ryan,” Sir Fitzpatrick replied. “And I think it’s about time we do something about it.”
“Here here!” shouted the local drunk.
“Why is the local drunk here?” asked Sir Jameson Warwinkle Jameson.
“Sir Evanston’s sick,” replied Sir Fitzpatrick, “so we needed a replacement.”
“Well I hardly think that the town drunkard is a suitable replacement for–”
“Jameson please!” interjected the local drunk (whose name was Gordon, by the way). “Don’t you think we’ve got bigger problems to deal with here? I mean there’s a blue tiger in this court room, and it’s eating all of our socks!”
Everyone stared blankly at Gordon, trying to comprehend the statement he’d just made. Then Sir Fitzpatrick said, “Surely, my good town drunk, you mean to say that there is a pink elephant in the corner, and not–as you so nonchalantly claim–a blue tiger eating all of our socks.”
“No sir! I was referring to the tiger standing in that corner over there,” said Gordon, pointing to the other rarely-visited corner of the room. In said corner stood a very blue tiger and a massive pile of socks, upon which it was feasting.
“Our socks!” screamed everyone except for Gordon in unison. “How’d they all get over there?”
“I put ’em there!” shouted Captain Harrison Tidalwave, who had just appeared in the doorway of the courtroom.
“Capitan Harrison Tidalwave?” exclaimed the entirety of the High Court (still in unison, I might add).
“Yes! Me! Captian Harrison Tidalwave and me merry crew, the Tidalwave-ets! We be the ones who took yer socks and fed ’em to that tiger!”
“But why?” asked the court.
“We were bored and a wee bit drunk at the time,” explained Captain Tidalwave.
“Right on!” exclaimed Gordon.
It was then that Captain Harrison Tidalwave first noticed the elephant in the room. “Hey! Why there be an elephant in here?” he asked.
“We don’t know,” harmonized the court members.
“So let me get this straight,” said Captain Harrison Tidalwave. “Ye be telling me that there be a pink elephant in this room but ye don’t know why it’s here?”
Suddenly, a very muscular superhero came crashing through the roof of the courthouse shouting, “That’s exactly what they’re telling you!” He then landed, did a couple of flips, flexed his muscles, said “My work is done here,” and flew away.
Everyone in the room, including Sir Fitzpatrick, Ryan, Sir Jameson Warwinkle Jameson, Gordon, and Captain Harrison Tidalwave, let out one simultaneous sigh of annoyance and then shouted, “Thanks Powerful-Man.”
“I still don’t get why we have to thank him every time he does that,” said Sir Christian “Footerman” Smitters.
Sir Fitzpatrick rolled his eyes and replied, “I’ve told you this a thousand times, Footerman! If we didn’t thank him for his stupid acts of ‘heroism’ he would destroy our town.”
“I know. I know,” said Footerman. “I just wish he’d stop ruining our roofs.”
Suddenly, Captain Harrison Tidalwave let out a girlish shriek of terror.
“What’s wrong, Tidalwave?” asked Footerman.
“There be a giant flaming wormhole in that corner!” shrieked the Captain as he pointed to yet another rarely looked at corner of the room.
“Man, you guys should keep better tabs on your corners,” laughed Gordon. Meanwhile, the rest of the high court screamed in terror.
“That hole’s getting bigger!” shouted Ryan. “It’s bound to engulf the entire courtroom in a matter of minutes!”
“And the tiger just ate my arms!” moaned the now ironically-named Sir Armstrong.
“And I think that the elephant has taken a romantic interest in me!” shrieked Gordon.
“Ugh. I’m not even remotely attracted to the drunk guy!” retorted the elephant.
Everyone gaped at the elephant. “You can talk?” Sir Fitzpatrick exclaimed.
“Um, yeah. Sorry if that’s weird,” the elephant replied sheepishly.
“Well that’s just great! The elephant can talk now!” said Ryan. “Everything’s going insane!”
Then Divine Inspiration struck Sir Fitzpatrick and everyone gasped.
“Divine!” gasped a shocked Sir Fitzpatrick. “I can’t believe that you’d do that! I thought you were the sensible one.”
“Sorry, Fitz,” said Divine, “but somebody’s got to smack some sense into this group. You’re all acting like a bunch of loonies.”
“So what would you have us do?” asked Sir Fitzpatrick.
“Why, summon Nutty of course!” exclaimed Divine.
“Of course! Nutty!” said Sir Fitzpatrick.
“Yes, Nutty!” shouted Sir Jameson.
“Oh, Nutty!” swooned Gordon.
Having been summoned, Nutty the Squirrel descended from his royal nest and scurried across a vast landscape of woodland beauty. He swam across roaring rivers, climbed treacherous mountains, stopped by many a park bench, and eventually made it to the courthouse.
All stood at attention as he scurried to the center of the High Court. Then in a surprisingly low voice very similar to that of James Earl Jones, the highly-esteemed squirrel began to speak: “Squeak squeak squeak sque-squeak squeak?”
“Well you see, Nutty,” replied a very nervous Sir Fitzpatrick, “we’ve summoned you because we need help with this problem we’ve got. We don’t know what to do about this elephant, this tiger, and that flaming worm hole. They are all in our courtroom and we want them out. Also, the elephant can talk, and Powerful-Man broke our roof again.”
“And I’ve lost my arms!” shouted Sir Armstrong.
“Good God, man!” said Captain Harrison Tidalwave. “We can hear ye. There be no need fer shoutin’.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” exclaimed Sir Armstrong. “I guess I’m just a bit distraught over the fact that I HAVE NO FREAKING ARMS ANYMORE!”
Sir Armstrong’s words echoed through the halls of the courthouse as everyone stood by waiting for Nutty to say something. Then Nutty said something: “Squeak squeak squeeeeee squeak!” exclaimed the exceedingly wise squirrel. And with that he scurried from courthouse.
Everyone turned to Sir Fitzpatrick, who was the only one of them who spoke squirrel, and asked, “What did Nutty say?”
Patrick sighed. He knew Nutty was right. So he reached up, pulled off his goggles, and found himself back in his recliner in the dimly lit room. He rubbed his eyes a couple times, stood up, and walked to the trashcan. Turning the goggles over in his hands a few times, he smiled and said, “I couldn’t agree with you more, Nutty.” Then he threw them away.
And as he left the dimly lit room and ascended the staircase for the first time in what seemed like ages, he could see real daylight ahead.
Originally published at joeboettcher.tumblr.com.