| Stories From The Head |
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Learning the Quinklabong “Hoot-hoot-hootamakka-hoota” the quinklabong sounded. Mippe had done his best to follow the sheet-music in front of him, but he could tell from the look in Mrs. Rettesnop’s eves that it was all wrong. “Mippe, my boy, you are treating it as if it was a toy” she said gently. “It is a sensitive instrument. The quinklabong isn’t as clumsy as a basuun, as random as a smeillfanstikka, or as noisy as a pich-harpa. It’s a really artful instrument”. Mippe dried his tears, dressed his wounds (oh, did I forget to mention that Mrs. Rettesnop a fierce flogging while talking to Mippe?), and tried again. “Hootamakka-foon-hoot-foonhoot”. Mippe looked up from his instrument, awaiting another flogging. It never came. Instead he noticed a tiny tear in Mrs. Rettesnop’s eye. “Better” she whispered. “Much better…” What Mippe didn’t know was that Mrs. Rettesnop had big plans for him. He thought his parents made him learn the quinklabong as punishment for his constant eagerness to masturbate, but it was much more complex than that: Mrs. Rettesnop wanted to make Mippe the first professional quinklabongist in the world. Her own son, Jeereemi, had been accidentally flogged to death (by her) while working on a particularly difficult symphony, and Mrs. Rettesnop believed that making Mippe an accomplished quinklabongist would bring back her own little boy. “Keep practicing” she said to her protégé. “Keep practicing”. And Mippe practiced. Day and night for 27 years. This effectively kept him from masturbating, so his relationship with his parents got better and better. One day, Mrs. Rettesnop decided that Mippe was ready for his first big concert. Millions of people showed up to experience the secrets and joys of the quinklabong. Mippe was nervous but composed. This was it. 27 years of training had led up to this moment. Mippe entered the stage carrying his instrument, oblivious to the fact that this was all a ploy to bring back Mrs. Rettesnop. After the emperor’s introduction, Mippe stated playing. It was magnificent! “Hoof-foon-foonamakka-mothoon-hoom-mooh”. The people loved it. Mrs. Rettesnop watched the concert with a keen eye, and suddenly she saw him! Her own son! Jeereemi was standing behind Mippe. At first she wanted to run down and embrace him, but something wasn’t right. You see, Jeereemi was carrying something. Something familiar. The crowd began to notice him, and they thought it was another quinklabongist, but when he put the instrument to his lips, they all fell silent. “Mjääu-mjääu-sssssss-mjäääuåch!” IT WAS A SMEILLFANSTIKKA! As she slowly flogged herself to death, three words went through Mrs. Rettesnop’s mind: “Hoot-hootamakka-foonhoot…”… |
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