Wood You Be Mine? Act 2 Finale

2012-12-27 / stevedoesitall / 1,982 Comments

Everyone have a happy holiday? Fantastic. Ready for it to get even better? I know what you’re saying: “Stephen, master of the written word and, you’ve achieved so much in your short time as a renowned Internet blogger. How could you possibly top your earlier entries?” And that’s a 100% valid question, so you’ll just have to read this latest double-sized entry, the thrilling, pulse pounding, heart stopping (I think those last two contradicted each other) conclusion to Act 2 of Wood You Be Mine? Hold on; it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

“Kind of. Sometimes when I’m feeling gassy, I like to take a match and…”

Deciding to stop Legno mid-sentence, Timothy replied with, “Never mind. I knew it was a stupid question before I asked it.”

“Yeah,” Legno said in agreement, “you only have yourself to blame for that one.”

“Regardless, the point I was getting to is that, if magic can’t help us, then perhaps science can. It’s been said that all magic is is science we don’t yet understand. Go to that bookshelf over there and look for a book entitled Scientists of the World – A History. During my time here, I educated myself the best I could. Luckily, Esther had scores of books on a wealth of topics, science being one of them.”

Doing as Timothy said, Legno walked to the bookshelf. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books, feeling their hard, leathery exteriors.

“Stop, there!” Timothy said, with Legno’s hand coming to an immediate halt. Placing his bony pointer and middle on the top of the book, he pulled it down and in to his palms.

“Heavy,” he said. “How is this supposed to help us?”

“Well, let’s start by opening it up. Look in the table of contents to see what page a ‘Stanislao Cannizzaro’ is on.”

Legno flipped open the cover, and immediately the book’s stale smell filled his nostrils. His face winced and eyes watered a bit as he breathed in the stench between the pages.

“Christ,” he managed to cough out, “doesn’t she ever actually, I don’t know, read these things?”

“I think the only time she ever gave them much mind was when I’d ask her to get them for me. And that’s why I think this book may be exactly what we need,” Timothy retorted as a smirk grew upon the left side of his mouth, the thoughts of success exciting him.

“Umm…” Legno began as he ran his forefinger down the index, “Stanislao, Stanislao…ah, here we go!” He then moved his finger across the page, careful to follow the dotted line exactly to its end point.

“Page 42,” Timothy replied, looking at where Legno’s finger stopped, “that should have exactly what we need.”

With the delicacy of a drunk fumbling for his keys, Legno threw the book open, landing on page 187. He then began to feverishly flip backwards through the pages, a *fwipping* noise filling the air as he did so, and a glimmer of hope once again filling his eyes.

187…186…185…184…

“You know,” Timothy said, “you can just…”

“No time!” Legno yelled.

162…161…160…159…

“I mean, we are on a bit of a timeline, so if you could…”

“Can’t stop! Won’t stop! Eye of the tiger!”

143…142…141…140…

“Oh, for the love of…” Timothy sighed, “stop for a second, would you?”

Hopping off Legno’s shoulder and on to his hand, Timothy made his way towards the book, reached out his right hand, and began rifling the pages starting at the beginning, keeping eye on the numbers in the top left corner.

“Ah, he we are,” Timothy proclaimed. “See where my hand is? Open to that page.”

Legno began moving his fingers carefully down the ridges of the dry, unevenly bound pages until he reached the correct one. Flipping it open, he saw the following:

“I have no clue what the hell it was I just read,” remarked a baffled Legno. “How is a Candid Zorro supposed to help me?”

“Cannizzaro,” corrected Timothy, “and it’d be proper to refer to him as ‘professor’ when we meet him.”

“This is the guy you think can help us?”

“That he is. The good professor has made his career on being able to change one organic compound in to another. Who’s to say he wouldn’t be able to change flesh to wood? Granted, it’s a long shot, but it’s the best shot we have.”

“Well, I trust you,” Legno said, although half heartedly, “so where to? It’s not like we can just go knocking on doors until we find him.”

“The book’s a few years old, but if it’s still accurate, then we should be able to find him at the local University in the heart of town.”

“Blah, I’m not looking forward to this walk back,” Legno muttered, “how about this time, you carry me?”

Had any other person made that comment, Timothy would’ve thought they were joking.

Now with the sun at its highest point in the sky, the trek back to the city wasn’t an easy one. Hot sweat poured down Legno’s brow; every inch of his body had a wet stickiness to it; the armpits of his shirt turned that greenish brown color that men know all too well.

Finally back in town, Timothy instructed Legno to walk in to the heart of the city. “That’s where the University is,” he claimed. “One of the biggest buildings in town; you can’t miss it.”

Compared to the walk through the forest and back, traversing to the University felt like no time at all. Within mere minutes, the pair of travelers were already pushing open the big wooden doors and entering the impressive main hallway of the school. The intricately designed gray marble floors ranked amongst the impressive things he had ever seen: The walls were so white that it almost hurt his eyes, and the entire hall had that worldly scent of old literature.

The two wandered the halls until they stumbled upon an elderly lady who appeared to work there. “Excuse me, ma’am?” asked Legno, “I was hoping to find a ‘Stanislao Cann…zinarro’?”

“Professor Cannizzaro?”

“Yes! Yes, him! Does he still work here?”

“Mmhm,” was her response. She then extended out her left hand, pointed a bony finger, and finished with, “if you follow this hallway all the way to the end and make a left, his will be the third office on the right.”

“Thanks!” he said, turned and took two steps before turning back towards the old woman.

“Is there something else I can hel…” she began before Legno came up, opened his nostrils wide, and breathed in, with the melody of air whipping against the stuffy congestion filling the entire hallway.

The woman stood there, nonplussed as Legno merely said “Thanks again!” and galloped down the hallway.

Turning to Timothy, he said, “I said it before and I’ll say it again: They really do have the most interesting scents!”

It was the second time that day Timothy had to keep his contents of his stomach from decorating Legno’s left shoulder.

Legno banked down the corner of the hallway, nearly overshooting the third door on the right. “Stop, right here!” Timothy exclaimed. “Third office on the right!”

Coming to a screeching halt, Legno needed to catch himself on the wall to avoid having the momentum knock him down. After taking a second to catch his breath, Legno gently knocked on the office door as he pushed it open ever so slightly.

“Excuse me, Professor Cannizzaro?”

The middle-aged man, who up until now was preoccupied with examining a slide with a sampling of ammonia under his microscope, looked up upon Legno, failing to notice Timothy. Despite only being in his mid-30s, the professor was already extremely accomplished, and he sported a neck beard that all professors are expected to grow at some point in their careers.

Although not pleased by Legno’s barging in unannounced, he wasn’t particularly angered by it, either. A straightforward man, he simply asked, “May I help you?”

“Hi, my name’s Legno. And this,” he said pointing to his shoulder, “is my talking bug friend, Timothy.”

“Charmed.”

“I, um…” he paused, not quite knowing how to react to Timothy’s presence, and finally deciding to finish with, “Okay, fine, why not? How can I help the two of you?”

“Well, Professor, Legno here has a…unique request,” Timothy answered.

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“He’s been quite taken with this *ahem* wooden doll.”

“She’s everything a woman should be and more,” Legno replied, his hands folded and pressing against his chest, his lovelorn eyes staring off in to the distance.

With a confused look on his face, Cannizzaro responded with “I…see. And where do I come in?”

“We’ve read up on your work,” Timothy stated, “The changing of one organic compound to another, and we were hoping that there might be a way to do the same for Legno here.”

“You want me to turn this doll in to a real girl?”

“Ha!” Legno laughed, “That’s retarded. No, I want you to make me a wooden boy.”

Cannizzaro glanced at Timothy quizzically. Timothy’s only response was a shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head that seemed to imply ‘I know. Trust me, I know.’

Breaking the momentary silence, Cannizzaro answered, “Any other day, I would’ve called you absolutely insane for even suggesting that, but standing before me right now is a walking, talking…Recticulitermes lucifugus, correct?”

“You are quite right, sir!”

“So it certainly appears that the line between ‘possible’ and ‘impossible’ is blurrier than I had previous thought. That said, even if there were a way to do that, it’d take years of research and experimentation, and that’s time I just don’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” muttered a disenfranchised Legno, “Marion’s leaving tonight, and now it’ll take a miracle to become a wooden boy by then.”

“Well…”

“Well? Well what?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, and I can’t at all guarantee anything, but a hobby of mine is astronomy, and the skies tell me that there’s a meteor shower coming tonight around dusk. It should be dark enough for you to see it clearly.”

“How does that help us?” Timothy responded, asking for the both of them.

“If you believe the old folklore, those with the purest souls will get their heart’s desire when they wish upon a star.”

“Wishing upon a star…that has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” Legno retorted, his response being more than a little skeptical.

Looking up and to the left, Cannizzaro whispered to himself, “Said the boy who wants to become a wooden doll…”

“Pardon his manners, Professor,” Timothy interjected, trying to save face, “but besides that, could we trouble you for any other possible solutions?”

Cannizzaro breathed in slowly, shook his head, and then answered with “An act of God.”

“Ugh. Timothy, let’s go. Professor…” Legno began, and he now had a sheepish expression on his face, “sorry for my attitude, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just frustrated is all.”

“No need to apologize. We’ve all been love-struck at one point in our lives or another. And good luck. Remember: Meteor shower tonight. Go to the top of Deus Ex Collina, the hill at the edge of town; it’s one of the highest points in the area. You’d have a great vantage point.”

“Yeah, yeah…maybe.”

“Look at it this way: If it works, you get what you want; if it doesn’t, then at least you get to see a spectacular show.”

Legno let out of weak smile and nodded in appreciation as he left.

“Thank you again, Professor,” Timothy responded. “Best of luck with your research.”

“And best of luck to the two of you.”

Pushing open the door, Legno and Timothy left the way they came in. Waiting a moment for the door to close completely, Cannizzaro then turned back to his microscope and muttered to himself, “If you ask me, that boy’s already made of wood.”

He then paused for a second and took his eyes away from his microscope once again and said pensively, “Hm, Recticulitermes lucifugus.” He then leaned back in to the eyepiece of his microscope and began carefully adjusting the lenses before finishing his thought aloud. “I wonder how that boy was able to come upon such refined, intelligent termite.”

END OF ACT 2

And with that, Act 2 comes to a close, and Timothy’s treachery is revealed. Poor, poor Legno. Dramatic irony will fuck you every time. Did you see the twist coming? Let me know on Facebook or Twitter! Next week begins with the premiere of Act 3 as Wood You Be Mine? winds down to its epic finale. See you then!

Wood You Be Mine? Act 2, Part 3

2012-12-18 / stevedoesitall / 25 Comments

Alright, now that the sappiness is out of the way, last we left off, Legno, with Timothy as his guide, was off to see the witch of the Sicilian forests (no, not you, Aunt Adela). Can she do for Legno what she did for Timothy? Let’s find out in Act 2, Part 3 of Wood You Be Mine?

“Truth be told, I don’t know why she didn’t. Boredom, perhaps? Or maybe just loneliness.”

“You never asked?” said a baffled Legno.

“This is going to sound silly,” Timothy began, “but I suppose I was afraid of knowing the truth. Like if I were to look at it too closely, I might see the cracks beneath the surface of the whole thing. Like knowing the truth would be the pinch that woke me up from the dream.”

“Is that why you didn’t stick around?”

“I did for a while; I owed the old girl that much. So I spent time with her, conversed with her, helped her prepare her meals, and the like. As I said earlier, I believe she just felt like having some companionship.”

“Sounds kind of nice, I suppose.”

“It was for a time. She taught me everything I know. But after a while, I knew that I needed to move on.”

At this point, Legno’s investment in Timothy’s story began to wane. If girls or odd bodily functions weren’t involved, he usually couldn’t care less. Changing the subject to something of more interest, Legno asked, “Could you tell me more about you wife?”

“Oh, certainly. She was someone I had known for some time, but I never had the confidence to tell her how I felt. After I became what I am now, I realized it was finally my time. We fell in love and are now happily married with seven million children.”

“Good Lord, seven million? Your stamina must be out of control. And I can’t even begin to imagine what she looks like down there after popping out all those kids.”

“I think we should change the…”

“I once saw a picture of a guy who lost a big chunk of his torso after a bear bit in to it. If I had to take a guess…”

“So how about your foster father?” Timothy yelled, doing everything he could to speak over Legno. “You haven’t yet spoken of him.”

“Um, I think he’s doing all right down there?”

After a heavy sigh, Timothy rephrased, “I meant, in general, how is he? What does he do?”

“Well, Saggies, as he prefers me to call him, is a teacher. But I don’t think he really likes it or anything. He seems depressed all the time. And he drinks a lot.”

“Oh, that’s…that’s very disheartening. Do you have any idea why?”

“Um…not really. I mean, I’m a ray of sunshine, so it’s not my fault. The only thing I can think of is that I sometimes hear him say the name ‘Maggie’ in his sleep followed by a whimper.”

“Ex-girlfriend I take it?”

“Beats me. I kind of always assumed it was some sort of liquor they don’t make anymore. Or like a pet turtle that he used to have.”

“So those are your best guesses: Discontinued alcohol or turtle?”

“Well, when you say it like that, it just makes me sound like an idiot.”

Timothy bit his tongue and decided it’d be proper to just let that comment slide.

The next few minutes were filled with a comfortable silence; Timothy quietly soaked in the scenery, the forest’s musk filling his senses and reminding him of a time gone by, while Legno’s thoughts were brimming with the life he and Marion were sure to have. It was a life of joy, of passion, of tenderness, and of endless ‘knock on wood’ jokes.

And of late nights sensually applying varnish.

And of even later nights filled with sanding down each other’s edges. Those rough, rough edges.

Life as a wooden boy…oh, it was definitely going to be sweet.

“We’re here, son. Look! You can see her cabin just over that hill!” Timothy exclaimed, snapping Legno back to reality.

With a few shakes of his head, his eyes, which seconds ago were blankly staring at the ground, widened and appeared to fill his entire face as his destination finally came in to view.

“Hey, you’re right!” Legno cheered as he made a dash towards the cabin, too excited to merely walk the last few meters.

As he drew nearer, the mundanity of the cabin’s exterior became apparent. Although unimpressed, Legno attempted to remain positive.

“You’d think such a powerful witch would have a fancier place,” Legno commented as he ran his fingers over the cabin’s oaken façade, which, though unassuming, was still well constructed. “But it’s pretty cool to see such professional craftsmanship. I guess my wood will be safe in her hands, huh?”

“Oh, dear,” Timothy muttered to himself while massaging his forehead in an attempt to circumvent the impending migraine Legno was sure to give him. “Be a good lad and give the door a few raps. I don’t know if the old girl is home or not.”

Legno, making his way to the door, did as Timothy requested and gave the door a hearty knock with his fist.

*Thunk*

No answer.

“Try again,” said Timothy.

Legno once again raised his fist to knock on the door and brought it down with the force of a hammer; he desperately wanted the old witch to be there and was hoping her reticence was due to her not hearing him the first time. The sound of flesh and bone against the wooden door was even louder this time.

*THUNK*

*THUNK*

*THUNK*

Still no answer.

After letting out a heavy sigh of disappointment, Legno responded, “Of course. Of course she wouldn’t be home. Why would I expect to have any sort of luck with the way this day’s been going? Let’s head back. Maybe I can patch things up with Diana. ‘Diana, when I said your ass looked fat, what I meant was you have a great figure for popping out a whole mess of kids. Our kids.’ ”

Timothy snapped back, “Oh, stop complaining! A few bumps in the road and you’re ready to throw in the towel! It may not exactly be proper etiquette, but open the door and see if she’s in. It’s possible that she’s just asleep.”

“Let’s try,” Legno said quietly as he turned his hand and placed the bottom sides of his fingers underneath the hand-carved notch and gently opened it.

*Creeeeeeeeek* went the door as Legno slowly pushed it forward. As he leaned in, his head poked through and he uttered a simple, “Hello?”

For a third time, no answer.

“Walk inside,” Timothy replied. “Here or not, she wouldn’t mind my coming through unannounced.” He then turned his attention away from Legno and yelled, “Esther! Esther, dear, are you home? It’s Timothy, and I brought a friend who is quite intent on meeting you!”

“Look,” Legno said as he pointed to the table in the middle of the room. The cabin was fairly tiny, and it didn’t take the boy long to get a more than cursory examination of the place. “There’s a note on the table.”

“Well, it’s more than a bit rude to read someone’s personal letters, I’d say,” Timothy replied.

Walking towards the table, Legno countered with, “But it looks like it’s addressed to you.”

The note, which laid flat on the table, was filled with big, barely legible scribble, with

sprawled across the top.

“It appears you’re right, son. What does it say?”

“Yeesh,” went Legno as he squinted his eyes to try to make discernible the old woman’s scribble. He proceeded to read the note aloud:

“Germany?” Legno responded, confused. “Can we get there before tonight?”

“Legno,” Timothy sighed, “Germany is almost a thousand miles away with seas and mountains in between.”

“Okay, so, what’s she doing there? Why isn’t she here?” Legno asked, his tone almost turning in to a shout.

“Oh, she has the sweetest little place there. Children from all over…”

“So that’s it!” yelled a once again defeated Legno as he cut off Timothy, “This friend of yours decides to take a goddamned vacay and I’m shit out of luck!”

“Did I say that this was my only idea? Failing to plan is planning to fail, Legno.”

“So then what now?” Legno asked, as some placidity returned to his voice.

“Let me ask you, Legno, are you a student of chemistry?”

TO BE CONTINUED

Believe it or not, we’re just about at the halfway point of this tale. But without the witch Esther, what is poor Legno to do? What’s Timothy’s Plan B? Will there be any more thinly-veiled penis jokes? The answers to all these questions can be found next week for the conclusion of Act 2 of Wood You Be Mine?

And if you need a taste of what’s to come after that: Twists, turns, lost loves, new beginnings, but unfortunately, fewer nut shots (sorry, Alex). See you in a week!

Wood You Be Mine? Act 2, Part 2

2012-12-11 / stevedoesitall / 2,139 Comments

Due to a deluge of requests (read: one), a Get E-Mail Updates button has been added to the right hand side of the blog*: —————->

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Need catching up on last week’s entry? Click here! Now gather ’round, ye children. The adventures of Legno and Timothy are about to continue…

“We’re actually not that far,” Timothy replied, “start by heading north out of town and in to the woods. As luck would have it, it’s roughly three kilometers away. We can get there in no time!”

Needing to hear no more, Legno rapidly made his way through town and in to the heavily forested area, all the while having Timothy perched carefully upon his shoulder. Not one for the great outdoors, this was the first time Legno had traversed the region. It was the first time he heard the crunch of the dry grass beneath his feet, the first time he had been eclipsed by the lush green of the cherry bark oak trees, the first time the growling sounds of the animals filled his ears.

But as exciting as this all was to his senses, more exciting was the prospect of the new beginning that Timothy had promised. Unfortunately, despite his emotional enthusiasm, Legno’s diminutive frame wasn’t used to supporting this much physical exertion, and he was soon doubled over and wheezing.

*Huff* “Are…” *huff* “…you sure…” *huff* “…we’re going…” *huff* “…the right…” *huff* “…way?”

“Yes, yes. But take a minute to catch your breath. You’ll do neither of us any good by passing out in the woods,” Timothy answered.

“It’s just that we’ve been traveling for hours, and I feel like we haven’t gotten any closer,” Legno said, sounding more than a little discouraged.

“It’s been fourteen seconds, Legno,” Timothy responded. “Look,” he said, pointing with his cane, “you can still clearly see everyone in town.”

“That can’t be ri…” Legno began as he glanced over his shoulder, only to see the townspeople going about their day, their voices still audible:

“What do you mean you’re out of eggs!”

“I swear to GOD I’m not afraid to slap you in public!”

“The minstrels were hot, but they were way too old. I wonder if they have a younger brother…”

“And then he said he wanted to see if I ‘lived up to my name,’ the creep.”

“Huh, well, I’ll be dipped. Hey look, there Diana goes again!” Legno then cupped his hands and screamed, “Diana! Hey, Diana!”

“What!” she screamed back. “What is it you want this time, creep!”

“That dress makes your ass look fat!”

His legs now going faster than anyone thought humanly possible, Legno made his way through the woods with the blistering speed of an arrow shot by an expert marksman. His movements were precise, fluid, and flawless.

Now deep in the heart of the Sicilian woodlands, Diana was finally no longer in sight and no longer could the screams of “If you thought that hurt the first time, wait until I use my good leg!” be heard. Legno considered it safe for a momentary stop. And as soon as he did, a fuming Timothy shouted, “Why in Heaven’s name did you think that was a good idea!”

“As great as true love is,” Legno replied, his breathing once again heavy, “I needed a little more incentive to keep moving.”

Now confused, Timothy asked, “And that would be…?”

“Not wanting to get kicked in the testicles twice in the same morning,” he answered back with a smirk. “Now, can we sit for a spell? It feels like my lungs are on fire.”

“Yes, that’s probably for the best. But do remember, we’re on a tight schedule,” Timothy warned.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Legno replied as he plopped down on the ground. The sound of his breathing had that loud, nasally, wheezing noise that mimicked the tone of an enraged howler monkey. Thankfully, after a few minutes, his breathing returned to normal, and his heart no longer felt as if it was going to burst out of his chest.

Placing his hands on the ground, he pushed himself up, wiped his now-running nose with a dirty finger as a loud *SNURF* sound radiated from his nostrils, rubbed his face, and cleaned the mess on his hands with the backside of his shorts.

Immediately trying to forget what he had just witnessed, a repulsed Timothy asked “Are we…*urp*.” Right away, Timothy balled his left hand in to a fist and covered his mouth.

After taking a second to make sure he stomach was settled, he began again, “Terribly sorry about that. Are we quite ready, then?”

“Yep, yep,” Legno responded, some of his pep returning to him, “let’s get a move on.”

With Legno back on his feet, the pair resumed their journey. The boy was getting more and more acclimated to the outdoors as he maneuvered his lithe, narrow frame over the rocks and through the trees. All the while, Timothy played director, instructing Legno on where to go at every twist and turn.

“We’re getting close!” Timothy exclaimed eagerly, “Just a few more minutes and we should be there. Take a right at this bend, and that will guide you the rest of the way. The old girl’s going to be delighted to meet you, I’m sure.”

“Cool, cool. I love old ladies. They always have the most interesting smells. How do you know this one exactly?”

“Oh, we’re old acquaintances. She’s the one who taught me everything I know and made me what I am.”

Legno’s face lit up as he turned to Timothy, “So the top hat…!”

“Enough with the hat, son. As I was saying, back when I was just another insect, acting entirely on instinct, something drew me to her cabin. It’s hard to say what; life before that day’s not quite clear. But what I do remember is that it was as if I had been living in a house where the curtains were always closed. And after she helped me, it was as if the curtains had finally been drawn and I was able to see the sun for the first time.”

“But why did she change you? I feel like most people would just step on you when your back is turned.”

“A lovely thought, thank you for that,” Timothy drolly responded.

“Just sayin’,” Legno remarked under his breath.

TO BE CONTINUED

Things are certainly heating up now, aren’t they? Looks like Legno’s finally getting a stroke of luck in Timothy, but can the little bugger actually deliver? And how exactly did he become the walking, talking insect we’ve all grown to love? Guess you’re going to have to keep reading to find out! In the meantime, keep yourself busy by commenting and sharing on Facebook and Twitter.