A Paradise in Paradox


It’s nearly six o’clock Friday evening. I’m behind the wheel of my white Honda Civic, driving across Bainbridge Island on my way to a place called Mount Jupiter Road on the other side of the Hood Canal. There there is a small cabin of one and a half rooms that was built by my uncle Tim. Waiting for me there will be several members of my family, all ready to throw me a 19th birthday party.
Suddenly a new moon drifts in front of the summer sun completely blocking it out. "I wasn’t expecting a solar eclipse," I say to myself. I turn on my headlights as the sky goes black, and soon I can see only the road and the trees.
BOOM! The front right tire of the car bursts open. I swerve for a while, then pull over to the side of the road. As soon as I stop the car dies, including the headlights. Between that and the eclipse, I can see nothing. "Shit," I say to myself. "This couldn’t suck more." I fumble around in the dark until I find a flashlight. It doesn’t work. "Hmmm." I check the light in my digital watch. It doesn’t work. "No electricity. I must’ve had a close encounter with a UFO."
"Far from it," says a woman’s voice just out side my car, catching me by surprise.
"Who’s there?" I ask.
"Just me. Do not be afraid."
I don’t recognize the voice, yet I find it comforting. I step outside of the car. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face, yet alone the stranger standing nearby. Logic tells to be afraid, that she might be a killer or a lunatic. All I can force out of my lips is "What do you want?"
At that points she strikes a match and lights an old lantern. Now I can see her; she is wearing a white tunic that covers her from head to toe, tied around the neck so her nose sticks out.
"You’ve been invited," she says. "I’m here to take you there."
"Take me where?"
"To the party."
I’m confused, but an idea forms in my head. "Alright, but let me get something from my car." I turn around and unlock the back door.
"You won’t need your video camera, it won’t work," she says.
"How did you know I was going for my camera?"
"Come, we don’t want to be late." She turns around and starts walking away. I follow.
After a couple of minutes of walking I break the silence. "I’ve never seen a solar eclipse last so long. Even with that lantern, I can’t see a thing. How do you know where we’re going?"
She replies "Because it’s right in front of us. Look."
Suddenly two pillars of flame rise up out of the darkness, like candles, illuminating a large wall that stretches farther outward than the light of the torches can show. In the center is a large gate, and a man standing guard. He’s rather large, round moreso than tall, but he looks very strong. He is armed only with a simple spear. He also wears a medieval armor helmet so that I cannot see his face. As we approach the gate, he steps on front of it.
"Halt," he says, "state your name and purpose."
The woman replies. "It is I, the Paha. I have brought Casey to our party as the King and Queen have ordered."
The guard steps out of the way and opens the right door of the gate. "Welcome back, High Priestess. You may proceed."
As we walk through, the woman, the Paha, leans over tells me quietly, "The Craigy is very devoted to his work."
On the other side of the wall is an open courtyard, bustling with a merry gathering. There are people of all sorts of attire dancing to a medley of violins and bagpipes, all with their faces covered one way or another. Not one of them appears to be a man. I ask the Paha: "What purpose are we celebrating here?"
"It is the birthday of the foundation of the Royalty. Forty years ago today the King and Queen were first married."
"Who are the King and Queen? And of what?" I ask.
"You will meet them when the time comes. First, let me introduce you to the company." She takes me over to a slender woman wearing a dark gray dress and a black veil over her face. "This is the Rakow, Director of Domestic Affairs." I shake her hand, she bows. Next we approach a woman in a turquoise dress and a silver-colored apron, with a feathered ceramic mask. "Over here is the James. Among her many skills is that she is an excellent chef."
"Bonsoir," I say. She bows.
The Paha then points to two women dancing in the center of the courtyard. "They are the Hill and the Holl. Playing the music are the Morgies." She points to two women of equal stature and hairstyle, both wearing vinyl dresses. One plays the violin, the other a bagpipe. They have black masks covering the top halves of their faces. I cannot tell them apart. "Twins?" I ask.
"No, clones."
Next she leads me across the courtyard to one of the many large torches lighting the scene. Sitting in a chair next to it is a petite woman in a black skirt and gray sweater. She is holding a pad of paper and a pencil. I find it odd that she cansee what she draws, for her entire face is covered by her long, dark hair. "This is the Silver, our resident artist," says the Paha. "Very highly regarded."
The Silver sets down her sketchpad and stands up. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance," she says to me.
"I’ve heard that one before," the Paha intrudes. "Try again."
The Silver sighs, and says "This night is lit with reverence as your persona envelopes the company."
"That’s better." The Silver then returns to her seat and resumes sketching.
"What was that about?" I ask the Paha.
"Our society requires us to use original speech. Cliché is considered to be very bad taste. It has been the way of the King since his youth. You will be used to it sooner than you realize. But there is one of us who is an exception to the rule." The Paha quickly claps her hands together twice, and as a response shapely woman in a black leotard and matching pleated skirt approaches me. She wears a ski mask that covers her face but lets her hair hang out. She is twirling like a ballerina, and when she draws near she begins a graceful dance independent of the music.
"This is the Tess. She doesn’t speak," explains the Paha.
"That’s a shame," I say, "I’m sure that she would have a lovely voice."
"She had a singing voice that was unsurpassed throughout the land, until a conniving sorceress stole it by way of vile black magic and molded herself an undeserving career on Broadway. We had kinder black magic to steal it back with, but we were too late when the sorceress got the business end of an old-fashioned cruise missile."
"Is that an interpretive dance she’s doing?"
"No, she just likes the music. Now hurry up and greet her."
I fumble for an ‘original’ greeting, and land on "In all this darkness I could barely see you coming." I guess it works, for she puts her hands together in praying position, curtsies, and dances away. I wonder was lies behind that ski mask.
"You have met all of our company," says the Paha, "and now I leave you on your own to get comfortable in their presence while I attend to the king and queen. We will meet again at the hour of consumption."
"Eh?"
"Dinner."
"Oh." She then leaves me in the courtyard and disappears into the darkness. I have many questions, and I decide that the best person to answer them would be the Director of Domestic Affairs. So I stroll over to where is dancing alone. When I get to her, the Morgies stop the music, and all others go quiet and turn away. I shrug this off and address the Rakow."
"Lovely place you’ve got here."
"We’ve never seen a single mosquito." Good, she’s conversative.
"I’m curious about a few things, well, almost everything actually."
"What would you like to know first?"
"Why are so many of you dressed in black? It makes you hard to find when it’s dark."
"It’s always dark. The darkness, while scary to some, gives us a sense of comfort. Even in open ground we feel secure and shielded from judgment. It is a kind of crowded privacy."
"That makes a little too much sense to me."
"It seems to make too much sense because you expect that others would find it baffling. That is something to be proud of around here. It’s how we communicate; how we function."
"Do you live here?"
"We all live here, and have ever since the royal wedding. Forty years ago."
"Are there buildings? I see nothing around the courtyard but the wall on one side."
"The James is a skillful architect; she designed our buildings so they cannot be seen from the outside. If you step just beyond the light of the torches you’re inside. Each of us has our own building. You can’t tell one from the next until you’re inside, so you must know exactly where the front door of each lies."
"Do the King and Queen have separate buildings?"
"All the buildings are the same size, but theirs are two joined together; essentially one big one. But enough talk. I believe that you now owe me a dance."
She leads me over to the Morgies. "Your request," she says.
I say to the Morgies "Do you know Papa Don’t Preach, instrumental?" "We can fake it," the violinist says. The bagpiper just giggles. So the music starts, and myself and the Rakow join hands and hips for a tango. We spin, we dip, we twirl, and we keep our footing. Its a soothing experience, for I feel a grace in my step that it takes most people years to learn. Afterwards we waltz, and then a little ballroom dancing. When the Morgies run out of the song, they switch to some Mozart. After about fifteen minutes the music ends, but it felt like an hour, and I would welcome an hour more.
"That was terrific," I say, as sweat drips down my temples.
"It always is," she says. "You should try it with the Tess."
I look around, and see the James walk up to the Morgies and say something too them. They put down their instruments and pick up trumpets from under their chairs. They then bellow out a tune reminiscent of a calvary charge. Everyone stops what they’re doing walk out of the courtyard to a point opposite the front gate and disappear into a building.
"What’s happening now?" I ask as I follow.
"It’s time to appropriately address the edibles," says the James from in front of me.
I reply "Wait, lemme guess. I know.... It’s coming to me... that means about... approximately..... I know it...... something about the.... starts with a D..... Dinner!"
"Yup."
I approach the edge of the light, last in line, and find it difficult to believe there can be anything in front of me. But I take another step, and there I am, in the doorway of a large room with stone floors & walls, looking like the interior of a medieval English castle. There are tapestries, paintings, and dozens of torches lining the walls. There are dark doorways on the far left and right, and a staircase in between that lead up and to the left. In the center is a large rectangular wooden table with twelve chairs and thirteen plates set up. The chair on the smaller end, nearest the staircase, is larger than all the rest threefold.
Everyone takes a seat, including the Craigy who just entered the room behind me. There’s one chair left, opposite the largest, obviously saved for me. I take it. The Rakow stands up.
"The King and Queen will be down shortly," she says.
I lean over to the Silver, who is next to me, and ask "Why is the Craigy the only man here? Excepting the King, that is."
She replies "It’s a compromise. The Morgies wouldn’t come without him, and besides, none of the rest of us have combat training."
The Rakow speaks again.
"Well, that’s enough of that. And now.... Their Majesties."
Everyone at the table stands, myself included, and down the staircase walks the apparent founders of this strange society. The King is bulky yet graceful, and he wears a navy blue military uniform with many medals, a red velvet cape, and a large, heavily jeweled crown with red velvet top. The Queen is slightly taller, very slender, and wears a green low cut dress that goes down to the floor. There are gold bands around her waist, wrists, fingers and neck, and on her head is a small tiara with three peaks, each with a magnificent purple jewel, the largest in the center. Both of them wear almost featureless oriental masks.
The King and Queen sit together, hip to hip in the largest chair. Everyone stares quietly at the two of them, as if anticipating someting. Finally the King speaks:
"I like potatoes." At that eveyone sits down except the James, who hurries out the nearest doorway. The King continues: "I like them baked, I like them mashed, I like them fried, I like all kinds of potatoes." Almost immediately the James comes back into the room pulling a ginormous cart carrying covered trays. She places each one on the table, and once they’re all down the nearest person to each tray pulls off the lid in perfect synchronicity. As soon as the steam clears I can see just what the King ordered. Baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, boiled potatoes, twice-baked potatoes, potatoes augratin, hash browns, potatoe salad, and three styles of french fries. Next the James garnishes the setting with all manners of condiments.
I ask the Hill, who is sitting to my right, "Can you pass the mashed?"
"Not yet," she says, "We haven’t had service yet." I’m just about to ask what she means when the King stands up and addresses the company.
He yells: "Who must we kill?"
To which the rest chant back: "Our enemy!"
King: "And Who is our enemy?"
Rest: "Banality!"
King: "Good! Now, original time! Give me a word, Rakow!"
Rakow: "Um.... hoodahooda?"
King: "And what does it mean!"
Rakow: "It’s the emotion that a chicken feels when it’s spouse commits adultery."
King: "Good! What’s new, Silver!"
Silver: "I’m writing a petition to have the letter ‘K’ removed from the word ‘black’ and instead have it be used to put under the legs of chairs that wobble from side to side to keep them still."
King: "Very good I will sign it." Then his voice gets calmer, and as he speaks the Queen stands up next to him. "And now the Queen will improvise a poem for us."
She says to us "Someone give me something you might find in a box." The Craigy is the first person to yell out, so his suggestion is taken. He yelled "A peach!"
The Queen: "Ok, a peach. (ahem) A peach, a peach, is not a leech, and looks more like a peach than starship. A peach is round with round bits of shape, a leech is round with square bits. A peach is yellow and a peach is pink and it sometime matches my nails. A peach is the best thing to bite into while it still has hair. You can drink a peach out of an aluminum can or you can stuff one between the breasts of a sleeping centaur. Pull the stem off of a peach as if it were the wax that drips down a candle, but don’t steal it’s wife or it will get hoodahooda and bitchslap you with a rather blunt dandelion leaf. Give me a peach, or hoard it for yourself, but don’t sit on that cactus."
The whole room applauds, and I can’t resist joining in. The King stands up, gives her a hug and waits for the clapping to die down. "Lovely," he says. "And finally, before we eat, it is time to say the Pledge. Casey, you may remain seated if you choose."
Then, slowly and dramatically, every person their takes off their mask, or whatever covers their face, and for the first time tonight I can see what they really look like. I see weathered faces of aging people, some wrinkles, some hair-graying, and every one of them is extraordinarily beautiful, like goddesses. Even the Craigy could pass for a Greek god. The King is a handsome devil; he has deep, dark brown eyes, and a prominent brown beard with a red tint, resembling the King's from the first season of Blackadder. He stares forward with a gleam in his eye, and contentment in his smile. And the Queen tops them all. She has a wide smile of symmetrical, pearl-white teeth, and lovely blue eyes that look like they’ve seen the world twelve times over. Her luscious brown hair hangs down past her face, yet hiding none of it. I think I’m in love.
Everybody there, save myself, stands up. They put their right hands on their heart, and begin chanting in perfect unison.

"We pledge allegiance
To the King and Queen
Of the unlimited states of existence
And to the pedestal
On which they stand
Once dollar
Tax deductiblev With love and respect for all."

They sit down and begin dishing out the potatoes, showing that it’s time to each. I grab a twice-baked and load up on mashed & gravy. Ooh, I’ve never known potatoes to be so delicious. The James is a master. Although my mouth is full, I speak: "This is the best damn potatoes I’ve ever---" Darkness, and silence.
v *YA---------N*
Mmm, good morning. Where am I? Maybe I should open my eyes. I open my eyes. It’s still dark. I’m back behind the wheel of my Honda. I’d say it was all a dream, but the Paha is standing in front of the car holding the lantern.
"Nice to see you up," she says. "You’ll notice that everything is where you left it, and your broken tire has been fixed. The sun will be out soon, so you better get a move on to your birthday party. I’m glad you enjoyed your visit." At that she extinguishes the lantern, and I’m left in darkness for a moment. Quickly the moon steps aside and lets the sun back into sight. The bright lights stings my eyes for a few seconds. I look at my watch. It’ still says six o’clock, and I first attribute it to the power shortage contained within my recent adventure. However, the sun is exactly where it was when it all started, so I must truly be right where I left off. I turn on my car and resume driving. As I roll down the curving, unending road, and start humming myself a little song.
"Happy birthday to me........ happy birthday to me......... happy 59th birthday to me..........."


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