Medium-sized snowflakes fell from the sky, all the while floating back and forth in the chilly air before landing and sticking to the ground. The sun had been shining brightly for most of the day, but by now the mid afternoon’s solar warmth had slowly given way to cloudier skies and considerably colder temperatures.
On the edge of the green, just on the outskirts of this New England town, stood the home of Earl and Tess Grayay. They had inhabited their humble abode for over thirty-five years since marrying in 1955. They were “empty nesters” now and were enjoying the fruits of their retirement (or semi-retirement). Their four children had long since moved out and were now on their own.
On this January midafternoon, the inside of the Grayay’s house was warm and comfortable, with a newly-made fire blazing in the fireplace. Tess sat in the bay window enjoying the last of the day’s apricity. She had enjoyed this seat for years, particularly if she were in a scripturient mood.
Earl Grayay snudged into the room from the hallway by the bedroom. He took a puff and lunted to the chair closest to the fire.
“I’m about as crambazzled as I’ve ever been in my life, Tess!” he exclaimed, not sitting but falling into the chair.
The talking heads on the television in the corner brabbled on about one thing or another, but mostly about some snollygoster in Washington, DC. He’d just assume have the twattling of soap opera characters in the background if he had to listen to anything.
Tess glared at him from her perch next to the window. “Oh come on, Earl! If anybody has a case of clinomania, it’s you! Why, I’ve been trying to get you to quomodocunquize instead of fudgel for years!!” At that, she laughed and laughed. “I’m the one who should be grufeling by that fire.”
Earl quickly looked at her as if to gauge her sarcasm, then looked back at the fire.
“Hon, did I tell you about my hunt yesterday morning. Only the bold get up on mornings like that. I’m in the blind with …..” he paused and was momentarily paralyzed by a case of lethologica, “ol Boyd and a couple hours later hit my first bird. Once I got over my curglaff and retrieved the bird, I could relax and really enjoy the rest of the morning.”
“Thank you, honey,” said Tess. “I guess we won’t go hungry this week after all.”
“Yep,” replied Earl. “We’ll have yesterfang overmorrow!”
Tess got up from her seat. The sun had retreated behind the clouds since they had been conversing over the last half hour.
Earl watched her as she approached. “Thank goodness she hasn’t lost that callypgian figure over all these years!” he thought. At that, his heart skipped a beat. A sense of respair came over him.
Two nights later, they sat in the kitchen enjoying the delicious game meat stew that Tess had cooked. Their English sheep dog sat in the corner sleeping, his elflock mane in such bad shape that even the best dog groomer might have a full day’s work cut out for him.
Tess and Earl ate and enjoyed their delicious supper. Tess looked down at her bowl and then back at Earl, his look at her having not changed for the last five minutes.
“Well, don’t just sit there groking at me, you old fool!” she said. “Tell me about your next hunt!”
Modern Translation
Medium-sized snowflakes fell from the sky, all the while floating back and forth in the chilly air before landing and sticking to the ground. The sun had been shining brightly for most of the day, but by now the mid afternoon’s solar warmth had slowly given way to cloudier skies.
On the edge of the green, just on the outskirts of this New England town, stood the home of Earl and Tess Grayay. They had inhabited their humble abode for over thirty-five years since marrying in 1955. They were “empty nesters” now and were enjoying the fruits of their retirement (or semi-retirement). Their four children who had long since moved out and were now on their own.
On this January mid-afternoon, the inside of the Grayay’s house was warm and comfortable, with a newly-made fire blazing in the fireplace. Tess sat in the bay window enjoying the last of the day’s warmth of the sun in the winter. She had enjoyed this seat for years, particularly when she had a strong urge to write.
Earl Grayay walked humbly into the room from the hallway by the bedroom. He took a puff and walked while smoking a pipe to the chair closest to the fire.
“I’m about as worn out and exhausted as I’ve ever been in my life, Tess!” he exclaimed, not sitting but falling into the chair.
The talking heads on the television in the corner argued loudly about about one thing or another, but mostly about some shrewd, unprincipled person in Washington, DC. He’d just assume have the idle gossip or chatter of soap opera characters in the background if he had to listen to anything.
Tess glared at him from her perch next to the window. “Oh come on, Earl! If anybody has an excessive desire to stay in bed, it’s you! Why, I’ve been trying to get you to make money by any means possible instead of pretending to work while actually doing nothing for years!!” At that, she laughed and laughed. “I’m the one who should be laying close to the fire for warmth.”
Earl quickly looked at her as if to gauge her sarcasm, then looked back at the fire.
“Hon, did I tell you about my hunt yesterday morning. Only the bold get up on mornings like that. I’m in the blind with …..” he paused and was temporarily paralyzed by his inability to remember a name, “ol Boyd and a couple hours later hit my first bird. Once I got over the shock I felt when I plunged into cold water and retrieved the bird, I could relax and really enjoy the rest of the morning.”
“Thank you, honey,” said Tess. “I guess we won’t go hungry this week after all.”
“Yep,” replied Earl. “We’ll have the catch from yesterday on the day after tomorrow!”
Tess got up from her seat. The sun had retreated behind the clouds since they had been conversing over the last half hour.
Earl watched her as she approached. “Thank goodness she hasn’t lost those well-formed b******s over all these years!” he thought. At that, his heart skipped a beat. A sense of hope after despair came over him.
Two nights later, they sat in the kitchen, enjoying the delicious game meat stew that Tess had cooked. Their English sheep dog sat in the corner sleeping, his tangled hair in such bad shape that even the best dog groomer might have a full day’s work cut out for him.
Tess and Earl ate and enjoyed their delicious supper. Tess looked down at her bowl and then back at Earl, his look at her having not changed for the last five minutes.
“Well, don’t just sit there staring silently at me while I’m eating, you old fool!” she said. “Tell me about your next hunt!”
1 comment
And here I thought I was alone in my bouts of lethologica… Thanks, Andy!