Now that's what I call Davy, Vol. 1.
Jul. 19th, 2006 10:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
davywavyI'm being a busy little entrepreneur this week, with lots to do and not enough time to really keep up my usual stream of witless prattle on LJ. However, digging through my files at home last night I came across the following tale which I know I've posted before, some years ago, but I dont' think will suffer from being dredged out again. It was inspired when young ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raggedy_man suggested I write a "1960's acid-fuelled Toad trip". I don't think he got what he was expecting.
I'd like to apologise to anyone who has ever felt any affection for the writing of Kenneth Grahame.
A long summer afternoon was drawing lazily to a close on the riverbank. The sun was casting longer and longer shadows through the trees over the water whilst swallows skimmed the surface, alternately taking insects and sips from the stream. In a small but well-appointed hole set deep into the bank, the water rat was pouring tea.
“Not so many days like this left this year, I suppose, Mole old fellow”, he was saying to his companion.
“Indeed not, and isn’t it such a shame?” replied the Mole. “Still, we shall have the memory of summer, and winter to look forward to – mulled wine by the fire, walks on crisp, frosty days. You know, there isn’t a time of year that doesn’t have its little pleasures.”
The Water Rat nodded, and was about to say something when there came a jangling at the doorbell. He looked up. “I was about to mention that we haven’t seen very much of old Toad recently,” he observed, “but if that isn’t his style of announcing himself, I’ll be very surprised indeed.”
The Water rat, upon answering the door, was indeed surprised – but not for the reason he expected. “Why, it is old Toady!” He exclaimed. “ But, Toad. What the devil is that you’re wearing?”
Toad stood back to display his new attire. “My dear fellow”, he announced, cheerfully. “My dear fellow. It’s the latest thing, the very latest thing indeed. All the fellows are doing it. Don’t you like it?” He ended the sentence with an air of hope.
Rat inspected Toad from top to toe. “I can’t say that I do.” It was no surprise, as Toad was dressed in the most outlandish manner possible. From striped red and yellow trousers over poorly cut sandals, to a garishly tie-dyed shirt, to a headband that held back a long and flowing set of locks (obviously a wig), Toad could not have looked more absurd if he had tried. Rat sniffed the air. “Toad,” he asked. “What is that you’re smoking?”
Toad thrust an oversized and inexpertly rolled cigarette into Rat’s face. “It’s toot, man! Glorious toot! How anyone could live without it is a mystery to me!”
Mole poked his head round the door.
“Oh, I say, Toad”, he breathed. “What a simply super outfit!”
Toad preened, but Rat was quick to cut him off. “Don’t be ridiculous, Moley. Toad looks like nothing more than a circus clown. Come now Toad, get along home and put something a little more sensible on.”
Toad looked crestfallen for a moment, and then brightened up. “No way, daddio!” he said, poking Rat in the waistcoat. “I’m off to the green for the festival. There will be bands and everything. You fellows simply have to come!
“It’s to end war.” He added in a meaningful tone.
Rat looked stern. “I hardly-“
Mole broke in. “Oh, do, let’s, Rat!” He squeaked. “It sounds splendid. Don’t be an old square.” Mole felt rather surprised at his forwardness and his quick command of Toads new argot.
Toad seized on the moment. “Rat is quite right. You simply both must come. I won’t hear of you not doing!” Turning away, he pointed. “My wheels await!”
What Rat had initially assumed to be the canary-coloured cart of past adventures was parked in the road, but cart it was not. Instead it was a Volkswagen camper van, brand new, and painted a garish yellow. Cluttering up the windows and doors were numerous stickers of rainbows and ‘Nuclear Power - Nein Danke’ slogans.
Rat looked at Mole, who was hopping from foot to foot with excitement, and then to Toad, who was weaving uncertainly towards his vehicle, taking large draws upon his cigarette. “Toad”, he decided. “You’re in no fit state to drive.”
“Aw, maaaaaan”, replied Toad. “You’re as bad as the pigs. Can’t you hear the road calling? Can’t you hear the trees talking? Take a chill pill, Ratty.”
“I’m serious, Toad”, said Rat, striding to the van. “If you’re going anywhere, I’m driving.” He opened the driver door and a large cloud of fragrant smoke poured out.
“It’s on fire!” cried Mole.
“No it isn’t,” said Rat, tersely. “Get in, Mole.”
The three animals settled into the vehicle and Rat started it up. Toad leant over from the back seat. “I say, Rat old chap. Could you pop the wireless on? Tony Blackburn is playing the new LP by Bob Dylan. It’s groovy, man.”
“I certainly could not. Don’t be so ridiculous.”
Toad slumped back into his seat with an air of sulk. After kicking the back of Rat’s seat petulantly for a while and staring out of the van window he fished a battered old guitar from the back of the van and started to strum it whilst singing along.
Some gear like weed and acid
Kinda makes your mind explode
But it's not as mind-expanding
As the cosmic Mr Toad!
The festival was swinging
And peace and Karma flowed
But it wouldn’t have swung one half as much
If it weren’t for Mister Toad
The swami taught his students
On his mountaintop abode
“How can we reach Nirvana, Man?”
“Just make like Mister Toad!”
“Mole?”
“Yes, Rat, old fellow?
“Put that tambourine away.”
“Yes, Rat. Sorry, Rat.”
The Beatles all saluted
As they crossed the Abbey Road
Was it the Kinks? Or Kerouac?
No! It was Mister Toad!
“Toad. Shut up.”
The dolly birds in Mary Quant
Were dressing a la Mode
One squealed “Who’s that GROOVY guy?”
The answer? Mister Toad!
“TOAD!”
Evening was long since over as the little van pulled up outside the stately grandeur of Toad Hall. As soon as it came to a halt, the sliding door on the side opened, and out spilled a small crowd of rabbits and mice and hedgehogs and all manner of other woodland and riverbank creatures. Central to this throng was Toad, filled with bonhomie, slapping backs and exchanging embraces with all and sundry. “Come on all you fellows, come on in! We’ll have a party!”
The throng flowed up the drive and through the front doors of the hall. Mole turned to Rat. “Do you think that Toad knows what he is doing?” asked Mole. “He’s only just met most of those animals, and some of them didn’t look very savoury. There were at least two or three weasels that he’s invited back, and he’s had trouble from that direction before. He just seems to think that they’re all his friends.”
Rat nodded. “The silly creature has got it into his head that everyone is into peace and love and friendship, but I don’t believe it for a second. We’d better go in just to keep an eye on things.”
The two made their way up the steps and into the hall. As he passed, Rat removed several small but valuable Japanese netsuke from the kaftan of a surly-looking rabbit, who swore at him and accused him of being a materialistic breadhead. Mole, brave fellow, bared his teeth at the thieving lapin and the rabbit made off down the steps and away from the hall.
“This is what happens when you invite that sort into your home, Mole”, mused the Rat. “We’d better go and investigate the worst of it.”
Following the smell of sweet smoke and the sound of Sitar music, the two made their way to the Sitting room, which was full of animals. The cushions had been pulled off all the sofas and seats and scattered over the floor, and animals in varying states of intoxication were lounging on them, listening to the music, smoking, and chatting in a glassy-eyed, spiritless way.
“Pull up a bong and have a toot, you fellows!” cried Toad as they entered. “Or my friends over there have something stronger if you fancy it!” He waved at a pair of Weasels who were using a small set of scales that had been set up on the Louis Quinze writing table. They nodded back at him and the rat curtly before going back to working with a razor blade and some little black squares which they had on the leather surface.
“I don’t think so, Toad”, said rat as he walked over to him, waving aside clouds of smoke as he did so. “I really think that we ought to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” asked Toad.
“This.” Rat waved an expansive hand over the little crowd. “Are you sure you should be inviting a crowd of strangers into your home?”
“Oh, pooh” said Toad. “You fellows are just jealous of all my new friends. Now it’s all very flattering that you want to keep me all to yourselves, but I’m a popular beast and I can’t help it if I’m into the swinging jive and you chaps aren’t. Some people (his voice grew more meaningful) have it, and some don’t.” He fixed the Rat with a stare.
“That’s not quite what I meant, Toad” said the Rat. He emptied his pocket of the netsuke. “I caught a rabbit trying to steal these on the way in. Do you know whether you can trust all these new friends of yours?”
Toad gave a little laugh. “Oh, Rat. Don’t be so materialistic. Property should be held in common to be used for the good of all. If that fellow needed these little dolls then he should take them! I was thinking of starting a commune in the Hall for just that very purpose. What do you fellows think?”
Rat turned to Mole. “This is serious”, he said. “I think we ought to talk to Badger.”
Mole nodded.
“Anyway, you chaps”, said Toad levering himself to his feet and helping up a pair of pretty young does. “I’m off for a love-in with these rabbits - if you catch my drift, daddio.”
He lurched towards the stairs. Mole looked perplexed. “Rat, what is he going to do with those rabbits?”
Rat watched Toad unsteadily attempting to climb the stairs.
“Very little, I should expect. Very little indeed.”
Badger sat and listened to their story with a grave air. He grunted at appropriate moments, and his serious expression grew pained occasionally, but he sat silently until Rat had quite finished. Then he topped up his teacup and mused for a while in silence.
“So that’s the situation, badger” said Rat. “Toad Hall is overrun by all manner of ne’er-do-wells, Toad is convinced that they’re all his best friends, but in reality they’re just a group of freeloaders who steal his property and take drugs at his expense. I mean, I know he’s rich, but he isn’t that rich. He can’t support the drug habits of a large number of rabbits and weasels forever.””
“Poor, poor, Toad. I should have seen this coming.”
“Oh, come now, Badger. You can’t blame yourself. After all, who is to know what bally foolishness Toad is going to get himself into from one day to the next? How were you to know what he was going to end up doing next? It might just have easily been football or aeroplanes or stamp collecting.”
“No, no,” said Badger, grimly. “I’ve seen people get involved with these peaceniks before now, and it is never a pretty sight.” He nodded. “You fellows were right. Something must be done.”
“But what?” Squeaked Mole. “He appears completely taken in?”
Badger nodded. “They usually are.” He thought for a while longer. “In these circumstances, there’s usually only one solution. What Toad needs is drafting.”
Rat sat upright. “I say, Badger, isn’t that a little extreme?”
Badger shook his head. “I’m afraid not, old chap. You see, these ideas of peace and love are all very attractive when you’re sitting a nice house paid for by someone else, miles from any trouble, but you mark my words. As soon as a you’re in the jungle and a crazed ferret in black jim-jams starts taking pot-shots at you, all those ideas just go straight out of the window. It’s the only cure”
Mole looked worried. “But Toad might be killed!”
Badger nodded, conceding the possibility. “It’ll make a man of him. He’ll either come back with his shield or upon it.”
“It’s for the best, Mole”, said Rat.
“I have some old chums at the War office”, said Badger. “With luck, we should be able to have the paperwork to have Toad shipped off by Tuesday morning.”
A bright spring sun was shining over Toad Hall two days later as Mole, Badger, Rat, and a group of burly otters dressed as military police arrived up the drive and rapped on the door. Several minutes later Toad, who appeared in a very sorry state indeed, answered it. He had a cold compress around his head and bags under his eyes, and seemed very much the worse for wear. “Good morning you fellows”, he blinked at them blearily. “Could this wait until later? I’m still a little tired?”
“Certainly not”, grunted Badger.
“In that case, you’d better come in out of this bright light. I’ll put some coffee on.”
Toad led the animals into the Hall, darkened by drawn curtains. They picked themselves over the recumbent forms of sleeping rabbits, weasels, squirrels, and voles and through the dining room and into the kitchen. Putting a kettle to boil Toad plonked himself into a chair and scratched at his eyes. “What can I do for you all? And why have you brought these pigs? I haven’t taken a car in simply years.”
Badger gazed at Toad in sympathetic horror. “Toad, toad, toad. I’m glad your father died before he could see you like this. When I remember him, the day he got his medal for capturing a platoon of German ferrets at Remargen with only his tommy gun, he would have been so ashamed of you.”
Toad just stared back in incomprehension. “Huh?” He said.
Rat gestured at the Otters. “These gentlemen have come from the army. They’ve got papers inducting you into the armed forces. I’m afraid you’ll have to go with them.”
"You'll be coming home a bag, Toad old fellow!", squeaked Mole, excitedly.
Toad stared in bleary incomprehension for a few moments before his face brightened into what was almost a sunny smile. “You mean they’re here to draft me? Oh, you fellows, this is simply too rich!” He gave a short laugh which quickly turned into a bout of coughing. When he recovered, he continued, turning to the otters. “I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time. You see, I’m simply not eligible for the draft.”
“What?” growled Badger.
“A wheeze dreamed up by father. You see, when Labour got elected after the war, he realised that they’d be taxing him punitively, so he transferred his citizenship in order to avoid high tax rates. Whilst I may be a resident of the riverbank, legally I am a citizen of Leichtenstein where I only pay a farthing in the pound top rate. I’ve got my passport about the place somewhere.
“So you can stick that in your pipe and smoke it, pig.” Added the befuddled little animal.
A search of Toad Hall turned up not only any number of LPs, Red Lebanese seeds, and tie-dyed shirts, but also eventually also Toads passport, one corner of it torn away for reasons Mole could not comprehend. What he had said was true; the Eagle of Leichtenstein was emblazoned on the cover, and a rather unflattering picture of Toad was stuck inside.
“It appears Toad has us beaten on this.” Said Rat, concerned. “But if we don’t do something, he’s just going to get worse and worse. Whatever can we do?”
Badger conferred for a few moments with the otters before answering. “I have an idea. Firstly, however, we need to remove Toad from the source of much of the evil influence on his mind. These military gentlemen say they don’t mind helping us throw out some of Toads less desirable houseguests.”
It was the work of but a few minutes for the Military Police to remove the majority of the uninvited guests from Toads house. With billyclubs swinging, they drove the selection of soused, fuddled, and sleepy animals into the drive and shut the door firmly behind them. “And now for Toad”, said Badger with grim satisfaction. “He must be made to go cold Turkey. We shall lock him in his bedroom until this foolishness passes. And this time,” he turned to Mole, “you must not go for the doctor and leave him unaccompanied should he claim to be ill. There are plenty of medicines in the house that will suffice until Rat or I return. He fooled us like this before, but not again.”
With that, the three animals, with the help of the Otters, dragged the weakly protesting Toad to his room, shut the door behind him, and firmly locked him in.
“And now there just remains the waiting until this nonsense burns itself out”, said Badger.
From through the door they could hear toad calling from his window, telling his friends to build a peace camp in the gardens down by the river, and he’d be with them as soon as he could manage.
“It may take some time”, added Badger.
Evening was drawing in a few days later. Toad had been locked in his room, alternately lying on his bed sweating and shaking, and then calling out helpful comments through the window regarding the construction of the tent city that was growing on his rear lawn. He steadfastly refused to give up any of his ideas about the social distribution of property, his ideals of peace and love, or his desire to have all his new friends move back into the Hall. Whilst Rat and Badger remained steadfastly grim in their task to save Toad from himself, Mole was fretful, sneaking extra food to him and occasionally carrying secret messages back and forth from the Camp to the Hall. The sight of Toad so sad and forlorn touched something in Moles sympathetic heart, and so that evening, as he carried Toads evening dinner of bubble-and-squeak he was horrified to find Toad lying on his bed, listless and weak, eyes closed and moaning softly.
“Toad!” He gasped. “Whatever is the matter?!”
Toad turned, evidently in great pain. “I think something inside has broken, Mole.” A tear glistened in his eye, and rolled onto the pillow. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a burden to you and Badger and Rat and all my other good friends. I’ve been a fool, you know. I think that this maybe is it.”
Mole looked at Toad, shrewdly. “You’ve used this trick before, Toad. Rat and Badger told me not to leave you alone in the house, so I’m not going for a doctor until they’ve got back and had a look at you.”
Toad gave a weak smile. “I quite understand Mole. You’re a good, loyal fellow, and I know I can’t ask you to break your word. I’m sorry to be such a burden. Could I ask you just to get me some medicines from the bathroom? Just something to ease a little of my pain?”
“Of course!” Mole agreed, relieved that Toad was not trying to put one over on him. “What do you need?”
“Just a few of my pills. The yellow ones, with little pictures of Mickey Mouse on them. And some of my powders too. For my throat.”
Mole ran quickly to the bathroom, grabbed up handfuls of the requested medicines, and rushed back to Toads room. Toad, with great effort, raised himself up in bed and took them from Mole.
“Do you nee any help taking them old chap?” Asked Mole, concerned.
“Thank you, no. I don’t want to be any trouble. If you don’t mind, I’d rather be alone, to think about the silly, silly ways I have spent my life. I’m so sorry, Mole.”
Making sympathetic noises, Mole backed out of the room and locked the door. “Gosh,” he muttered to himself. “This does sound serious. I hope Rat and Badger hurry back!”
Meanwhile, as soon as the door was shut and locked, Toad hopped nimbly out of bed and gathered up the selection of medicines which Mole had brought on his dressing table. He gazed at them, gleefully. “With this little lot,” he smiled, “I shall soon be so high I’ll be able to simply fly out of the window to meet up with my friends again! Pooh to Badger and Rat! Pooh to Mole! I’m such a clever fellow!” And with that, he set to with a will.
Badger and Rat were strolling down the drive with all the relaxation that only a good long walk can grant when Mole came dashing out of the house. “I say you fellows!” he called. “Toad is in a very poor way indeed! I haven’t left the house, but I think he’s genuinely ill! He was asking for medicine and everything!”
Rat and Badger looked at each other and then rushed up the steps and into the hall, dashed upstairs and unlocked Toads bedroom, and then pulled the door open to see what was inside.
On the carpet in the middle of the room lay Toad, spread-eagled, face down in a puddle of his own vomit.
Badger leapt forward and pulled the limp form up, and examined him. “He’s still breathing, the blasted fool”, he said with some relief. He cast Toad down onto the bed and looked about, his eyes alighting upon the lines of powder on the table. “But it is no thanks to this!” With that he swept his hand over the table, sending everything to the floor. Then he turned to Mole. “Or to you, you little fool.”
Mole, poor fellow, was almost in tears. He hurried over and started to wipe Toads face, sniffling as he did so. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. I didn’t mean for Toad to hurt himself, I was just trying to help…”
“It’s not your fault, Mole,” said Rat as gently as possible. “Toad just seems determined to act in such a foolish fashion. Badger is just upset, that’s all.”
“Upset, nothing,” said Badger. What is clear to me is that once again, the rest-cure may not be enough to relieve Toad of his unfortunate addictions, and as it is plain we cannot trust Mole to be a good sick nurse we must think of another solution.”
“Oh, Badger,” said Mole. “Toad isn’t such a bad sort, and he’s such a convincing actor, you know, that you shouldn’t be so hard upon the poor thing.”
“Nonsense,” dismissed Badger with a brisk wave. “Toad can’t be trusted to his own devices. It strikes me that the best solution is to give him something that will take his mind off this nonsense and ensure his energies are devoted elsewhere, into a harmless or even socially profitable pastime.”
Mole was confused, but the Water rat nodded sagely. “Badger is quite right,” said the Rat. “What Toady really needs is a job. Gainful employment. After all, the devil makes work for idle hands. Did you have anything in mind, Badger?”
“As it happens, I did. An old schoolchum is a Bank manager. They’re always on the look out for young fellows to train into actuaries or clerks. A bit of solid training and serious work should soon help Toad focus his energies away from polluting his nostrils with this…rubbish.”
“Gosh!” Squeaked Mole, happy that attention was once again away from him. “Toady with a job! That’ll be a sight to see!”
Badger nodded. “I’ll chat to my old pal tomorrow, and see if I can’t get some sort of apprenticeship or whatever the banks do these days for young Toad. A proper job and a proper career, that’s what he needs.”
And the three of them went downstairs to make tea, leaving Toad to snooze on in a puddle of his own folly.
Autumn had been and passed, and Winter was drawing in one late afternoon as Rat and Mole made their way slowly back to the comfortable hole in the riverbank for a warm fire and crumpets after a good long bracing walk across the frosty fields.
“I say, Mole old fellow,” said the Rat. “It’s been months since we saw old Toad. I’ve been thinking that perhaps we ought to drop by and see him, just to make sure he’s all right, and his job worked out. We haven’t heard anything from this way recently, so he’s certainly been quiet.”
“Oh, do let’s!” Agreed Mole, and so the two detoured down the riverbank to Toad Hall. Walking down the driveway, they were surprised to see, gleaming in the wintery sunshine, a large a freshly polished motor-car of the most expensive sort. Rat shook his head. “Good heavens, not this nonsense again,” he muttered.
At that precise moment, who should be coming down the steps of the hall but toad himself. But what a change had come over him since last they saw him! Washed and brushed up, and wearing the very finest suit of clothes that only skilled tailoring could make for a little animal, Toad was every inch the respectable businessman. He calmly stood and watched mole and Rat approach, lighting up a cigar as he did so.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted them, curtly.
“Good afternoon, Toad!” Cried Mole. “We came by to see how you were! This is a jolly fine motor-car you have here!”
Toad brightened. “Isn’t it just? Top-notch! Had it imported from Germany especially. Of course, I don’t drive it myself, but that’s why I have Jenkins.” He waved a hand and from out of the garage came a portly rabbit in a bottle-green uniform.
“We were just wondering how the job is going, Toad,” asked the rat.
“Why simply splendid! Deals and brokering! It’s simply the only thing! I can’t understand how I ever lived without it! Why, my Christmas bonus alone is likely to be much more than I inherited from my father! Cash is king and greed will save the world! I’m a convert! Loot, old fellow! Glorious loot!”
“But what about your hippy friends?” Asked Mole.
“Friends? Pooh! Bunch of freeloading thieves and wastrels, never done a decent day of work in their lives! I had them run off the grounds, and the ones that wouldn’t go I hired a fellow with a bulldozer to push their rotten little caravans and tents into the river. That showed them not to respect another fellows property! I’ve no time for scum like that!”
“I see…” said Rat, dubiously.
“Now if you fellows will excuse me, I’ve to catch the red-eye to New York to talk with some chaps about the Borex takeover by Megabank.” With that he hopped into his car and zoomed away leaving a spray of dust and gravel behind him.
“Well,” said Mole. “I suppose it’s an improvement.”
“Of sorts, Mole, of sorts,” agreed the Rat. “Shall we go home? I think we deserve a nice cup of tea.”
Oh, if anyone has any good idea for stuff I could write, I'm already interested in hearing it.
raggedy_man suggested I write a "1960's acid-fuelled Toad trip". I don't think he got what he was expecting.I'd like to apologise to anyone who has ever felt any affection for the writing of Kenneth Grahame.
A long summer afternoon was drawing lazily to a close on the riverbank. The sun was casting longer and longer shadows through the trees over the water whilst swallows skimmed the surface, alternately taking insects and sips from the stream. In a small but well-appointed hole set deep into the bank, the water rat was pouring tea.
“Not so many days like this left this year, I suppose, Mole old fellow”, he was saying to his companion.
“Indeed not, and isn’t it such a shame?” replied the Mole. “Still, we shall have the memory of summer, and winter to look forward to – mulled wine by the fire, walks on crisp, frosty days. You know, there isn’t a time of year that doesn’t have its little pleasures.”
The Water Rat nodded, and was about to say something when there came a jangling at the doorbell. He looked up. “I was about to mention that we haven’t seen very much of old Toad recently,” he observed, “but if that isn’t his style of announcing himself, I’ll be very surprised indeed.”
The Water rat, upon answering the door, was indeed surprised – but not for the reason he expected. “Why, it is old Toady!” He exclaimed. “ But, Toad. What the devil is that you’re wearing?”
Toad stood back to display his new attire. “My dear fellow”, he announced, cheerfully. “My dear fellow. It’s the latest thing, the very latest thing indeed. All the fellows are doing it. Don’t you like it?” He ended the sentence with an air of hope.
Rat inspected Toad from top to toe. “I can’t say that I do.” It was no surprise, as Toad was dressed in the most outlandish manner possible. From striped red and yellow trousers over poorly cut sandals, to a garishly tie-dyed shirt, to a headband that held back a long and flowing set of locks (obviously a wig), Toad could not have looked more absurd if he had tried. Rat sniffed the air. “Toad,” he asked. “What is that you’re smoking?”
Toad thrust an oversized and inexpertly rolled cigarette into Rat’s face. “It’s toot, man! Glorious toot! How anyone could live without it is a mystery to me!”
Mole poked his head round the door.
“Oh, I say, Toad”, he breathed. “What a simply super outfit!”
Toad preened, but Rat was quick to cut him off. “Don’t be ridiculous, Moley. Toad looks like nothing more than a circus clown. Come now Toad, get along home and put something a little more sensible on.”
Toad looked crestfallen for a moment, and then brightened up. “No way, daddio!” he said, poking Rat in the waistcoat. “I’m off to the green for the festival. There will be bands and everything. You fellows simply have to come!
“It’s to end war.” He added in a meaningful tone.
Rat looked stern. “I hardly-“
Mole broke in. “Oh, do, let’s, Rat!” He squeaked. “It sounds splendid. Don’t be an old square.” Mole felt rather surprised at his forwardness and his quick command of Toads new argot.
Toad seized on the moment. “Rat is quite right. You simply both must come. I won’t hear of you not doing!” Turning away, he pointed. “My wheels await!”
What Rat had initially assumed to be the canary-coloured cart of past adventures was parked in the road, but cart it was not. Instead it was a Volkswagen camper van, brand new, and painted a garish yellow. Cluttering up the windows and doors were numerous stickers of rainbows and ‘Nuclear Power - Nein Danke’ slogans.
Rat looked at Mole, who was hopping from foot to foot with excitement, and then to Toad, who was weaving uncertainly towards his vehicle, taking large draws upon his cigarette. “Toad”, he decided. “You’re in no fit state to drive.”
“Aw, maaaaaan”, replied Toad. “You’re as bad as the pigs. Can’t you hear the road calling? Can’t you hear the trees talking? Take a chill pill, Ratty.”
“I’m serious, Toad”, said Rat, striding to the van. “If you’re going anywhere, I’m driving.” He opened the driver door and a large cloud of fragrant smoke poured out.
“It’s on fire!” cried Mole.
“No it isn’t,” said Rat, tersely. “Get in, Mole.”
The three animals settled into the vehicle and Rat started it up. Toad leant over from the back seat. “I say, Rat old chap. Could you pop the wireless on? Tony Blackburn is playing the new LP by Bob Dylan. It’s groovy, man.”
“I certainly could not. Don’t be so ridiculous.”
Toad slumped back into his seat with an air of sulk. After kicking the back of Rat’s seat petulantly for a while and staring out of the van window he fished a battered old guitar from the back of the van and started to strum it whilst singing along.
Some gear like weed and acid
Kinda makes your mind explode
But it's not as mind-expanding
As the cosmic Mr Toad!
The festival was swinging
And peace and Karma flowed
But it wouldn’t have swung one half as much
If it weren’t for Mister Toad
The swami taught his students
On his mountaintop abode
“How can we reach Nirvana, Man?”
“Just make like Mister Toad!”
“Mole?”
“Yes, Rat, old fellow?
“Put that tambourine away.”
“Yes, Rat. Sorry, Rat.”
The Beatles all saluted
As they crossed the Abbey Road
Was it the Kinks? Or Kerouac?
No! It was Mister Toad!
“Toad. Shut up.”
The dolly birds in Mary Quant
Were dressing a la Mode
One squealed “Who’s that GROOVY guy?”
The answer? Mister Toad!
“TOAD!”
Evening was long since over as the little van pulled up outside the stately grandeur of Toad Hall. As soon as it came to a halt, the sliding door on the side opened, and out spilled a small crowd of rabbits and mice and hedgehogs and all manner of other woodland and riverbank creatures. Central to this throng was Toad, filled with bonhomie, slapping backs and exchanging embraces with all and sundry. “Come on all you fellows, come on in! We’ll have a party!”
The throng flowed up the drive and through the front doors of the hall. Mole turned to Rat. “Do you think that Toad knows what he is doing?” asked Mole. “He’s only just met most of those animals, and some of them didn’t look very savoury. There were at least two or three weasels that he’s invited back, and he’s had trouble from that direction before. He just seems to think that they’re all his friends.”
Rat nodded. “The silly creature has got it into his head that everyone is into peace and love and friendship, but I don’t believe it for a second. We’d better go in just to keep an eye on things.”
The two made their way up the steps and into the hall. As he passed, Rat removed several small but valuable Japanese netsuke from the kaftan of a surly-looking rabbit, who swore at him and accused him of being a materialistic breadhead. Mole, brave fellow, bared his teeth at the thieving lapin and the rabbit made off down the steps and away from the hall.
“This is what happens when you invite that sort into your home, Mole”, mused the Rat. “We’d better go and investigate the worst of it.”
Following the smell of sweet smoke and the sound of Sitar music, the two made their way to the Sitting room, which was full of animals. The cushions had been pulled off all the sofas and seats and scattered over the floor, and animals in varying states of intoxication were lounging on them, listening to the music, smoking, and chatting in a glassy-eyed, spiritless way.
“Pull up a bong and have a toot, you fellows!” cried Toad as they entered. “Or my friends over there have something stronger if you fancy it!” He waved at a pair of Weasels who were using a small set of scales that had been set up on the Louis Quinze writing table. They nodded back at him and the rat curtly before going back to working with a razor blade and some little black squares which they had on the leather surface.
“I don’t think so, Toad”, said rat as he walked over to him, waving aside clouds of smoke as he did so. “I really think that we ought to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” asked Toad.
“This.” Rat waved an expansive hand over the little crowd. “Are you sure you should be inviting a crowd of strangers into your home?”
“Oh, pooh” said Toad. “You fellows are just jealous of all my new friends. Now it’s all very flattering that you want to keep me all to yourselves, but I’m a popular beast and I can’t help it if I’m into the swinging jive and you chaps aren’t. Some people (his voice grew more meaningful) have it, and some don’t.” He fixed the Rat with a stare.
“That’s not quite what I meant, Toad” said the Rat. He emptied his pocket of the netsuke. “I caught a rabbit trying to steal these on the way in. Do you know whether you can trust all these new friends of yours?”
Toad gave a little laugh. “Oh, Rat. Don’t be so materialistic. Property should be held in common to be used for the good of all. If that fellow needed these little dolls then he should take them! I was thinking of starting a commune in the Hall for just that very purpose. What do you fellows think?”
Rat turned to Mole. “This is serious”, he said. “I think we ought to talk to Badger.”
Mole nodded.
“Anyway, you chaps”, said Toad levering himself to his feet and helping up a pair of pretty young does. “I’m off for a love-in with these rabbits - if you catch my drift, daddio.”
He lurched towards the stairs. Mole looked perplexed. “Rat, what is he going to do with those rabbits?”
Rat watched Toad unsteadily attempting to climb the stairs.
“Very little, I should expect. Very little indeed.”
Badger sat and listened to their story with a grave air. He grunted at appropriate moments, and his serious expression grew pained occasionally, but he sat silently until Rat had quite finished. Then he topped up his teacup and mused for a while in silence.
“So that’s the situation, badger” said Rat. “Toad Hall is overrun by all manner of ne’er-do-wells, Toad is convinced that they’re all his best friends, but in reality they’re just a group of freeloaders who steal his property and take drugs at his expense. I mean, I know he’s rich, but he isn’t that rich. He can’t support the drug habits of a large number of rabbits and weasels forever.””
“Poor, poor, Toad. I should have seen this coming.”
“Oh, come now, Badger. You can’t blame yourself. After all, who is to know what bally foolishness Toad is going to get himself into from one day to the next? How were you to know what he was going to end up doing next? It might just have easily been football or aeroplanes or stamp collecting.”
“No, no,” said Badger, grimly. “I’ve seen people get involved with these peaceniks before now, and it is never a pretty sight.” He nodded. “You fellows were right. Something must be done.”
“But what?” Squeaked Mole. “He appears completely taken in?”
Badger nodded. “They usually are.” He thought for a while longer. “In these circumstances, there’s usually only one solution. What Toad needs is drafting.”
Rat sat upright. “I say, Badger, isn’t that a little extreme?”
Badger shook his head. “I’m afraid not, old chap. You see, these ideas of peace and love are all very attractive when you’re sitting a nice house paid for by someone else, miles from any trouble, but you mark my words. As soon as a you’re in the jungle and a crazed ferret in black jim-jams starts taking pot-shots at you, all those ideas just go straight out of the window. It’s the only cure”
Mole looked worried. “But Toad might be killed!”
Badger nodded, conceding the possibility. “It’ll make a man of him. He’ll either come back with his shield or upon it.”
“It’s for the best, Mole”, said Rat.
“I have some old chums at the War office”, said Badger. “With luck, we should be able to have the paperwork to have Toad shipped off by Tuesday morning.”
A bright spring sun was shining over Toad Hall two days later as Mole, Badger, Rat, and a group of burly otters dressed as military police arrived up the drive and rapped on the door. Several minutes later Toad, who appeared in a very sorry state indeed, answered it. He had a cold compress around his head and bags under his eyes, and seemed very much the worse for wear. “Good morning you fellows”, he blinked at them blearily. “Could this wait until later? I’m still a little tired?”
“Certainly not”, grunted Badger.
“In that case, you’d better come in out of this bright light. I’ll put some coffee on.”
Toad led the animals into the Hall, darkened by drawn curtains. They picked themselves over the recumbent forms of sleeping rabbits, weasels, squirrels, and voles and through the dining room and into the kitchen. Putting a kettle to boil Toad plonked himself into a chair and scratched at his eyes. “What can I do for you all? And why have you brought these pigs? I haven’t taken a car in simply years.”
Badger gazed at Toad in sympathetic horror. “Toad, toad, toad. I’m glad your father died before he could see you like this. When I remember him, the day he got his medal for capturing a platoon of German ferrets at Remargen with only his tommy gun, he would have been so ashamed of you.”
Toad just stared back in incomprehension. “Huh?” He said.
Rat gestured at the Otters. “These gentlemen have come from the army. They’ve got papers inducting you into the armed forces. I’m afraid you’ll have to go with them.”
"You'll be coming home a bag, Toad old fellow!", squeaked Mole, excitedly.
Toad stared in bleary incomprehension for a few moments before his face brightened into what was almost a sunny smile. “You mean they’re here to draft me? Oh, you fellows, this is simply too rich!” He gave a short laugh which quickly turned into a bout of coughing. When he recovered, he continued, turning to the otters. “I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time. You see, I’m simply not eligible for the draft.”
“What?” growled Badger.
“A wheeze dreamed up by father. You see, when Labour got elected after the war, he realised that they’d be taxing him punitively, so he transferred his citizenship in order to avoid high tax rates. Whilst I may be a resident of the riverbank, legally I am a citizen of Leichtenstein where I only pay a farthing in the pound top rate. I’ve got my passport about the place somewhere.
“So you can stick that in your pipe and smoke it, pig.” Added the befuddled little animal.
A search of Toad Hall turned up not only any number of LPs, Red Lebanese seeds, and tie-dyed shirts, but also eventually also Toads passport, one corner of it torn away for reasons Mole could not comprehend. What he had said was true; the Eagle of Leichtenstein was emblazoned on the cover, and a rather unflattering picture of Toad was stuck inside.
“It appears Toad has us beaten on this.” Said Rat, concerned. “But if we don’t do something, he’s just going to get worse and worse. Whatever can we do?”
Badger conferred for a few moments with the otters before answering. “I have an idea. Firstly, however, we need to remove Toad from the source of much of the evil influence on his mind. These military gentlemen say they don’t mind helping us throw out some of Toads less desirable houseguests.”
It was the work of but a few minutes for the Military Police to remove the majority of the uninvited guests from Toads house. With billyclubs swinging, they drove the selection of soused, fuddled, and sleepy animals into the drive and shut the door firmly behind them. “And now for Toad”, said Badger with grim satisfaction. “He must be made to go cold Turkey. We shall lock him in his bedroom until this foolishness passes. And this time,” he turned to Mole, “you must not go for the doctor and leave him unaccompanied should he claim to be ill. There are plenty of medicines in the house that will suffice until Rat or I return. He fooled us like this before, but not again.”
With that, the three animals, with the help of the Otters, dragged the weakly protesting Toad to his room, shut the door behind him, and firmly locked him in.
“And now there just remains the waiting until this nonsense burns itself out”, said Badger.
From through the door they could hear toad calling from his window, telling his friends to build a peace camp in the gardens down by the river, and he’d be with them as soon as he could manage.
“It may take some time”, added Badger.
Evening was drawing in a few days later. Toad had been locked in his room, alternately lying on his bed sweating and shaking, and then calling out helpful comments through the window regarding the construction of the tent city that was growing on his rear lawn. He steadfastly refused to give up any of his ideas about the social distribution of property, his ideals of peace and love, or his desire to have all his new friends move back into the Hall. Whilst Rat and Badger remained steadfastly grim in their task to save Toad from himself, Mole was fretful, sneaking extra food to him and occasionally carrying secret messages back and forth from the Camp to the Hall. The sight of Toad so sad and forlorn touched something in Moles sympathetic heart, and so that evening, as he carried Toads evening dinner of bubble-and-squeak he was horrified to find Toad lying on his bed, listless and weak, eyes closed and moaning softly.
“Toad!” He gasped. “Whatever is the matter?!”
Toad turned, evidently in great pain. “I think something inside has broken, Mole.” A tear glistened in his eye, and rolled onto the pillow. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a burden to you and Badger and Rat and all my other good friends. I’ve been a fool, you know. I think that this maybe is it.”
Mole looked at Toad, shrewdly. “You’ve used this trick before, Toad. Rat and Badger told me not to leave you alone in the house, so I’m not going for a doctor until they’ve got back and had a look at you.”
Toad gave a weak smile. “I quite understand Mole. You’re a good, loyal fellow, and I know I can’t ask you to break your word. I’m sorry to be such a burden. Could I ask you just to get me some medicines from the bathroom? Just something to ease a little of my pain?”
“Of course!” Mole agreed, relieved that Toad was not trying to put one over on him. “What do you need?”
“Just a few of my pills. The yellow ones, with little pictures of Mickey Mouse on them. And some of my powders too. For my throat.”
Mole ran quickly to the bathroom, grabbed up handfuls of the requested medicines, and rushed back to Toads room. Toad, with great effort, raised himself up in bed and took them from Mole.
“Do you nee any help taking them old chap?” Asked Mole, concerned.
“Thank you, no. I don’t want to be any trouble. If you don’t mind, I’d rather be alone, to think about the silly, silly ways I have spent my life. I’m so sorry, Mole.”
Making sympathetic noises, Mole backed out of the room and locked the door. “Gosh,” he muttered to himself. “This does sound serious. I hope Rat and Badger hurry back!”
Meanwhile, as soon as the door was shut and locked, Toad hopped nimbly out of bed and gathered up the selection of medicines which Mole had brought on his dressing table. He gazed at them, gleefully. “With this little lot,” he smiled, “I shall soon be so high I’ll be able to simply fly out of the window to meet up with my friends again! Pooh to Badger and Rat! Pooh to Mole! I’m such a clever fellow!” And with that, he set to with a will.
Badger and Rat were strolling down the drive with all the relaxation that only a good long walk can grant when Mole came dashing out of the house. “I say you fellows!” he called. “Toad is in a very poor way indeed! I haven’t left the house, but I think he’s genuinely ill! He was asking for medicine and everything!”
Rat and Badger looked at each other and then rushed up the steps and into the hall, dashed upstairs and unlocked Toads bedroom, and then pulled the door open to see what was inside.
On the carpet in the middle of the room lay Toad, spread-eagled, face down in a puddle of his own vomit.
Badger leapt forward and pulled the limp form up, and examined him. “He’s still breathing, the blasted fool”, he said with some relief. He cast Toad down onto the bed and looked about, his eyes alighting upon the lines of powder on the table. “But it is no thanks to this!” With that he swept his hand over the table, sending everything to the floor. Then he turned to Mole. “Or to you, you little fool.”
Mole, poor fellow, was almost in tears. He hurried over and started to wipe Toads face, sniffling as he did so. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. I didn’t mean for Toad to hurt himself, I was just trying to help…”
“It’s not your fault, Mole,” said Rat as gently as possible. “Toad just seems determined to act in such a foolish fashion. Badger is just upset, that’s all.”
“Upset, nothing,” said Badger. What is clear to me is that once again, the rest-cure may not be enough to relieve Toad of his unfortunate addictions, and as it is plain we cannot trust Mole to be a good sick nurse we must think of another solution.”
“Oh, Badger,” said Mole. “Toad isn’t such a bad sort, and he’s such a convincing actor, you know, that you shouldn’t be so hard upon the poor thing.”
“Nonsense,” dismissed Badger with a brisk wave. “Toad can’t be trusted to his own devices. It strikes me that the best solution is to give him something that will take his mind off this nonsense and ensure his energies are devoted elsewhere, into a harmless or even socially profitable pastime.”
Mole was confused, but the Water rat nodded sagely. “Badger is quite right,” said the Rat. “What Toady really needs is a job. Gainful employment. After all, the devil makes work for idle hands. Did you have anything in mind, Badger?”
“As it happens, I did. An old schoolchum is a Bank manager. They’re always on the look out for young fellows to train into actuaries or clerks. A bit of solid training and serious work should soon help Toad focus his energies away from polluting his nostrils with this…rubbish.”
“Gosh!” Squeaked Mole, happy that attention was once again away from him. “Toady with a job! That’ll be a sight to see!”
Badger nodded. “I’ll chat to my old pal tomorrow, and see if I can’t get some sort of apprenticeship or whatever the banks do these days for young Toad. A proper job and a proper career, that’s what he needs.”
And the three of them went downstairs to make tea, leaving Toad to snooze on in a puddle of his own folly.
Autumn had been and passed, and Winter was drawing in one late afternoon as Rat and Mole made their way slowly back to the comfortable hole in the riverbank for a warm fire and crumpets after a good long bracing walk across the frosty fields.
“I say, Mole old fellow,” said the Rat. “It’s been months since we saw old Toad. I’ve been thinking that perhaps we ought to drop by and see him, just to make sure he’s all right, and his job worked out. We haven’t heard anything from this way recently, so he’s certainly been quiet.”
“Oh, do let’s!” Agreed Mole, and so the two detoured down the riverbank to Toad Hall. Walking down the driveway, they were surprised to see, gleaming in the wintery sunshine, a large a freshly polished motor-car of the most expensive sort. Rat shook his head. “Good heavens, not this nonsense again,” he muttered.
At that precise moment, who should be coming down the steps of the hall but toad himself. But what a change had come over him since last they saw him! Washed and brushed up, and wearing the very finest suit of clothes that only skilled tailoring could make for a little animal, Toad was every inch the respectable businessman. He calmly stood and watched mole and Rat approach, lighting up a cigar as he did so.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted them, curtly.
“Good afternoon, Toad!” Cried Mole. “We came by to see how you were! This is a jolly fine motor-car you have here!”
Toad brightened. “Isn’t it just? Top-notch! Had it imported from Germany especially. Of course, I don’t drive it myself, but that’s why I have Jenkins.” He waved a hand and from out of the garage came a portly rabbit in a bottle-green uniform.
“We were just wondering how the job is going, Toad,” asked the rat.
“Why simply splendid! Deals and brokering! It’s simply the only thing! I can’t understand how I ever lived without it! Why, my Christmas bonus alone is likely to be much more than I inherited from my father! Cash is king and greed will save the world! I’m a convert! Loot, old fellow! Glorious loot!”
“But what about your hippy friends?” Asked Mole.
“Friends? Pooh! Bunch of freeloading thieves and wastrels, never done a decent day of work in their lives! I had them run off the grounds, and the ones that wouldn’t go I hired a fellow with a bulldozer to push their rotten little caravans and tents into the river. That showed them not to respect another fellows property! I’ve no time for scum like that!”
“I see…” said Rat, dubiously.
“Now if you fellows will excuse me, I’ve to catch the red-eye to New York to talk with some chaps about the Borex takeover by Megabank.” With that he hopped into his car and zoomed away leaving a spray of dust and gravel behind him.
“Well,” said Mole. “I suppose it’s an improvement.”
“Of sorts, Mole, of sorts,” agreed the Rat. “Shall we go home? I think we deserve a nice cup of tea.”
Oh, if anyone has any good idea for stuff I could write, I'm already interested in hearing it.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:03 am (UTC)Can you do some 'Purple Ronnie' style poems?
no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:08 am (UTC)I misread this as "digging through my flies" and had a good snigger. I blame channel 4.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:20 am (UTC)I suggest a "first encounter" style story set in Victorian England.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:28 am (UTC)"What-ho!" replied Carruthers. "Got any gold?"
"No."
"Ivory?"
"No."
"Jewels?"
"No."
"Ancient statuary or carvings you're selling cheap?"
"No."
"Well I'm dashed if I can think why her Majesty would want to know you then."
no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 10:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 11:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 12:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-19 12:08 pm (UTC)random writing suggestion
Date: 2006-07-19 12:32 pm (UTC)Re: random writing suggestion
Date: 2006-07-19 12:33 pm (UTC)Re: random writing suggestion
Date: 2006-07-20 01:12 pm (UTC)