A Bit Of Hamlet
(In The Hamlet)
Dear cuz,
As it goes, my Identical third cousin Arthur, ‘Don’t Call Me Art’ Dekko, has in his mind that he will now master the mandolin and become famously rich playing in Cousin Stinky’s band inexplicably monikered Tuna Sin. Inexplicable, as they really don’t stink that much; though some music snobs have recommended they can it for the sake of the art and respect for the human auditory organ’s pleasure receptors. As Arthur confided this intention in my direction I mentioned the fact that he already has a steady job playing bass for said, to use the term loosely, musical group.
“Well that’s all fine and dandy’ replied he,. ‘but I’ve been learning the bass for 40 or so years and I’m just not getting the hang of it. Besides all that, a mandolin is cuter and littler and easier on the sacroiliac if you have to lug it from pillar to post.” ...Which brought up my question as to when he last played at a pillar. His poutful demeanor clued me that he had already made up half a mind to move forward toward his goal and there was little that I might interject that would dissuade the idea or to get the other half of his mind wrapped around a logical conclusionary ending sufferable to all even peripherally involved in the scheme.
Often finding the absurd singularly interesting, I maintained an air of curiosity as to how he would go about obtaining one of the little jewels as they are pricey as are most toys that rarely accomplish more than look cute and make noise. The obvious was that he had spent much wasted time rolling the thought around in his vacuous basal ganglia and not unlike a snowball hurtling down an 88.5 degree slope, the thought was unstoppable without some destruction to the ball or the surface destined to be struck. At length, it became crystally clear to me how this all began.
Although Arthur himself had not discussed it with me one-on-one, I recalled that cousin Stinky mentioned during one of our fireside chats replete with stout beverage that Arthur, while on break at a gig over at The Big & Tiny Food Stop, had engaged in conversation a woman of unidentifiable ethnicity whom being named after her beloved uncle Sal and aunt Ivory goes by the unusual handle of Salivory Spitz. (Arthur, grinning like the hamlet idiot claims her name fairly rolls off the tongue.)
A quick genealogical search revealed that she is close kin (as all the Spitz’kin are) of the infamous Spitz bunch from over yonder in Fairy Butte which all us Stonebrokes, being of a Christian nature, try not to overly criticize it being common knowledge that insanity runs at a rabid gray squirrel’s pace through the Spitz family tree.
Stinky had eavesdropped Salivory mention to Arthur how ‘cool’ she considered mandolin players and how she found them ‘all so very interesting and irresistible.’ Later that very evening, Arthur, considering himself to be cool, interesting and irresistible, had come to him asking about the mando that Stinky had left in his van in the middle of August until the neck had popped off and ‘could he borrow it since the Stinkster had pasted it back to its almost original location on the body.’ he had answered “sure, no problem.”
Apparently, both Stinky and Arthur had skipped ahead in Willie Shakespeare’s Hamlet to the part about ‘Two bees, or not two bees...that’s the question here... skipping over Act I scene iii where Lord Polonius suggests to his boy that he should borrower nor lender be of money nor mandolins among friends. Had they not done so, my tolerably beautiful wife Princess Penny Duchess of Stonebroke would not now be having the screaming-nervous-headaching-fits about Arthur’s “incessant ploinking on that damnable creation of Lucifer Himself, says she....probably just after He creationed the fiddle” (see Yogi Baird) There is, of course, the fact that Arthur thinks Hamlet is a sandwich you get over at the new FAS FUD that just opened up over on Redbone Ridge last month. Remind me to tell you more about their daily special ‘The Petri Dish.’
Thinking this not to be the greatest agreement either of those boneheads have entertained since they have teamed up, I ask you, dear cousin, to keep an eye out for an F model that Arthur might buy or barter off one of his deer rifles for so he can get back on a righteous relationship with Stinky. This arrangement, as it stands can lead to nothing short of heartache for all concerned including poor Salivory who is probably as innocent about evil as she appears to be and not at all as rumor has it.
Remember that we’re thinking of you and hoping for the best in this difficult recessionary period and may you receive some form of stimulus soon.
Your Loving Cousin,
Rev. Dr. Buck Stonebroke
