“I suppose it would be asking too much for you to take off and leave me alone to carry on not writing. Not your style, not in your nature, very stubborn kind of an ‘enchanteur’ really. How about I wave you over to my place? You don’t even have to open or make some kind of magic door; you can just drop in any time and unannounced. How does that sound? Am I rocking your boat with this one? Beg pardon? What’s that? Oh, yes, of course, your ship. Ship, boat, canoe, life raft, whatever, is this line of thinking rocking it? No. There you go then. Oh. There you don’t go - dearie me.
Good God woman you’re bolshy. Stubborn as the day is long and more stubborn than your average mule. Come again? Mule? Yes I do know a mule as it happens. Yes I did go on a trek with one. Huh huh. Yep. I am willing to concede that it was more interesting than your average trip on account of the fact that the mule could talk. Then again there are issues to be raised here about the whole talking mule, bag of oddments, deranged macaws and singing anchors extravaganza. I believe it was a product of my imagination and never actually happened. Sorry? You beg to differ? Your prerogative, differ away, differ to your heart’s content but I’m telling you the whole thing never happened. I was sick, I was hallucinating and if we both step up in front of an impartial judge I reckon they’re going to drag you away lady. If anyone asks me did I take a trip with a talking mule or anything else of that nature I’ll deny everything. Hey, I’ll go one better. I’ll deny it three times before the cockcrows and then invite him over for tea and biscuits. I truly believe that men in white coats and nurses with needles could be on your horizon. Are you seeing this by any chance? Are you capturing this in your mind’s eye? Does it look ‘enchanting’ or are you going to do a runner? You got that? You clear? No. Oh. I see. You’re not having it and possess written evidence to prove that this journey really did happen. It was not a trick of the light, a psychotic episode, a direct result of dropping acid or me being deranged. Well I guess you would say that because let’s face it; with a name like ‘Enchanteur’ you’re already on a sticky wicket. Sarcastic? Me? Never!
I need a drink, would you care to join me? No, it’s not made from the magic berries of the Lean and Dream tree in the Murmuring Woods. No, it does not contain tiny particles taken from the horn of a silver unicorn. No! I did not risk life and limb climbing to the top of some Far Away tree to pick every third leaf, which has restorative qualities beyond the ken of modern medicine. It’s Indian. Yes, Indian. In fact it’s Tetley one-cup tea in a bag but I like mine really weak so I always manage to strain out two cups – is that a good deal or is that a good deal. Herbal? No, never buy it, can’t stand the stuff. Chocolate chip cookie? Feel free to dunk. By the way, there’s a large black bird pecking the window with what looks like a letter in its beak. I suppose it’s too much to hope that it’s not calling on you. Raven calling? No. I do Avon calling and that’s enough for me; if the glass breaks because it’s been pecked to smithereens I want recompensing and not with a mystery item from your native homelands. Cash works for me.
What’s in the large bag? On second thoughts don’t answer that. You want to show me your portal folio! Don’t you ever give up?
“I walked through there? I created it! Nah. Not me Chanty. I’d have remembered.
Remember never to call you Chanty again or you will throw me head first off your boat… yacht…ship! No need to get touchy – and lady, remember this…you are in my dream. Gatecrasher!
Jan
