Here is the second Furnitures story I wrote. The first can be found here.

Today was the date set for Pioneero's return. Phyllis was the most excited. She had been trying in honor of the occasion to get her chin to vibrate up and down in a very particular fashion (the specifications came to her in a vision), and she was so pleased with the results that she insisted on displaying them for everyone.

This vexed all who had to endure this most recent affectation (Phyllis seemed to have a new one every week). Even Furnitures appeared perturbed. Everyone had had enough of it, and always had to politely face the opposite direction when she walked by. That is, everyone except Yetso. He enjoyed her successful chin manipulations. Not only did he find infectious her obvious excitations at the imminent arrival of his dear friend, fellow pirate, and expatriate (but also, ex-foe) Pioneero, the "Buckskin Buccaneer", but he also delighted in the anatomy of the lower jaw. Its musculatory capabilities never failed to astound him.

Pioneero was due to knock on Furnitures' cottage door at high noon that day. And right before the event's expected manifestation, everyone was gathered around the front porch. The assemblage included Phyllis, Yetso, and Mr. Crimb, of course. And there as well were Righto and Wrongo, the identical Puppet Pals of Perplexing Polarization, and also, a whole slew of attractive children. Everyone in the community, really. That is, everyone except Furnitures. It was thought that it would be rather silly to have him waiting outside on the front porch for Pioneero's arrival when he was supposed to be inside to answer the door. What would be the point of Pioneero's eagerly awaited Knock if Furnitures was already standing outside right there beside him? So Furnitures was forced to sit within, alone, away from everybody else. This was not an unusual circumstance.

High noon came and went with no trace of Pioneero. Phyllis confessed many times while blushing that she smelled him, but Mr. Crimb shook his head slowly back and forth as if to say, "Nuh-uh, sister". With his simple gesture, he conveyed the gentle wisdom of a wily wolfpup who knows his wafts. And it's true, he is quite the Scentologist (with all inclusive celebrity privileges). Mr. Crimb's olfactory abilities are far beyond humans' (and whatever Phyllis' species is), and so it makes sense that in this instance, he was the most reliable provider of affirmation (or information) on the presence of Pioneero’s odor. And if Mr. Crimb could talk, which he couldn't (much to the annoyance of the actor who portrayed him), he would say that Pioneero's smell was very smelly indeed, what with all the dead deer flesh draped all over him. But thank goodness he couldn't talk! No one wants to be reminded of such horror and morbidity.

Righto, or possibly Wrongo (no one's altogether sure which one's which), remarked that it was really rather rude of Pioneero not to show up when he said he would. And then Yetso came to the defense of his old enemy's tardiness, and said that all kinds of reasonable things could delay a pirate from making his appointments: maelstroms, despoliations, galleons brimming with golden cargo loot, the distractions of cannon up-keep, a lack of amnesties in foreign lands, scabies, just to name a few. But then Wrongo (it could have been Righto - at any rate, it was the other one, not the one that had already spoken) said that this didn't apply to Pioneero since he wasn't a Sinister Sailor of the Sordid Seas at all, but rather a woodsman and ranger, who spent all his time in the Wild Frontier and had never stolen anything in his life (he even once asked permission from a tree for its pine-cone), nor had he ever seen the ocean (but he did often long for its alleged recuperative properties). After the puppet had finished his rather lengthy explanation, Yetso appeared to ignore it. A sense of denial can be healthy, he'd always unconsciously felt. Plus, who really pays attention to puppets anyway?

And no one else bothered to argue the puppet's point, since they weren't sure which one had spoken and were afraid they'd be agreeing with Wrongo or adversely, disagreeing with Righto (both major faux pas for the perpetrator of such an act).

Yetso's patience had worn thin from the situation and whenever that happens he comes down with a bad case of exhibitionism. He sings a song or recites a poem (sometimes he’ll dance a jig, but that’s only if he's having a bad day). He turned now to his audience, so named because any group of people near Yetso takes on the immediate role of Amphitheater for him (especially when he loses his patience). He spoke:

"Hello all. In honor of Pioneero's Non-Proximity, and vis-à-vis, Presence Elsewhere in the Passionate, Pernicious, and altogether Praiseworthy Pursuit of Piracy - a Past-time you all no doubt know I find very, very dear to my heart.."

At this last comment, Yetso placed a hand on the scar on his bare chest, and somewhere, deep inside, a baboon smiled.

"I would like to perform for you people present, a poem I have just picked from the primary pinnacle part of the promenade of my purple-painted penny opera of pediatric possum parades."

Mr. Crimb rolled his eyes at this last bit. Yetso was getting a little carried away with his alliteration. When you stop making any sense at all, you've gone too far, or so said the old rule-of-thumb.

And Yetso, pausing briefly to let his audience prepare their ears for what he referred to often as his "aural cleansing" of them, and in addition, clearing his throat (to signal to all present his recitation was commencing, and not at all, as some might argue, a legitimate attempt to clean the pharynx), began to orate.

He would later refer to the following oration in his memoirs as his..

"Ode to Piracy (or at least One Particular Practitioner of It), a poem of Epic Grandiloquent Proportions but of Most Humble Modest Stature".

It began:

"O Pioneero
the Privateer-o
You are my hero.
Like Nero,
you play the Violino
while Rome, your booty,
is all aflame, and sooty

O Picaroon,

Yetso paused in his recitation to interject:
"Which is another word for pirate.."
He smiled wisely at the attentive (but no
doubt neglected) children who lacked the
necessary vocabulary, and continued.

The Non-buffoon,
You use your harpoon
On the typhoon
Of my heart.. er, baboon.
To the victor, go the spoils
While the Sordid Sea aboils.

O Corsair,

“which also means pirate”

Like a chocolate éclair,
You ensnare.
Catch your quarries unaware
Do they see it coming? .. Ne'er.
Your Jolly Roger is aloft
Its Skull and Bones remain unscoffed..

O Bucca..

"HELLOO!"

And Yetso couldn't get any further in the recitation as booming from behind him came the baritone voice of none other than the Burly, Brown-bearded, Barrel-chested, Buckskin-clad Frontiersman and Trailblazer - the Sultan of the Savanna, the Prince of the Prairie, the Master of the Mesa, and an Honorary Wokiwa Chief to boot (and not actually a pirate at all as Righto had so correctly asserted), the one and only : Pioneero! - a favorite of the younger children and some of the older ones (though strangely there's this like middle span of ages where the kids seem largely indifferent to him). Yes, Pioneero had finally arrived.

"How now, Brown Cow?!" he gruffly (but kindly) queried all in attendance.

Phyllis shrieked and ran towards Pioneero, her arms flung far out wide to more sufficiently and joyously wrap around her target once her intentions of direct physical contact were met.

She had quite the crush on him.

"Ohh-ho! How's my little savage princess?", Pioneero exclaimed after his barrel-chest had been so adequately barreled into by the diminutive damsel.

"MRFMFFMF", said Phyllis, her head burrowed into his side, making intelligible communication a thing of the past, and Phyllis was more than happy to keep it there (so long she could keep embracing her beloved).

"That good?” He smiled. “Normally, you are all cobwebs and tear-drops."

He was being sarcastic. Phyllis was notoriously upbeat around Pioneero.

One of the children, standing off to the side (there were always children lurking around the cottage because they love Furnitures so very, very much), started tugging at Pioneero's sleeve.

"Hmmm?" Pioneero looked over at the young boy.

"Are you going to teach us woodcraft again, Mr. Pioneer?", the child said in as monotone a voice as possible, while staring off into space. It is well known that good child actors are hard to come by.

"Uh.. why, No. That was last week, I mean, last time I visited here. Speaking of which, where is that old chum of mine.. "

He glanced up from the boy to scan the faces of the welcoming assembly.

Yetso stepped forward, his annoyance at having his poem interrupted vanquished at the wholesome sight of his old friend (and fellow pirate). He began to raise his arm to greet his long-lost comrade and contemporary.

But Pioneero was not done with his inquiry. "…my good friend, Furnitures the Great Brown Oaf ??"

Yetso paused in mid-salutation, his intentions cut short. He narrowed his eyes. One of his eyebrows was still somewhat higher than the other though. It looked like he was about to be perturbed.

"He Is In There", said all the children together, raising their arms at the exact same angle to point at the cottage door. Mr. Crimb joined in and gestured towards the door with a tilt of his shoulder and nose. And not surprisingly, completely up-staged all the child stars present. There was more realism and acting aplomb coveyed with his one little movement, than there was with any of the children's poor vocal delivery of their lines. This came as no surprise to the actor playing him. Mr. Crimb DID have four years experience in the theater. These children, Mr. Crimb thought to himself, were still teething no doubt when he first breathed in a spotlight! (Mr. Crimb never really did understand human aging processes, for none of the children were younger than nine.)

Pioneero responded with a hearty “Ah-HA!” and marched determinedly in the direction that the children (and to an even more effective extent, Mr. Crimb) pointed. He had to abruptly put a stop to his march because there was a door in the way. And he paused there for a moment completely confused. With his feet firmly and deliberately planted in front of the door, he started swivelling his head around, peering side-to-side, and behind him. Furnitures was no where to be found. Were the children lying? And if so, why? Is it the fault of the media? But then it dawned on him that the Oaf must be beyond the door, somewhere within, or maybe invisible, but that latter possibility was a bit unlikely. So he gave one more hearty “Ah-HA!” and raised one strong clenched fist to give the door a good knocking to.

THUNK THUNK THUNK went the door. Or rather, Pioneero’s attempts at knocking on it made the sounds. And many of the assemblage present were quite impressed. No one had quite so successfully THUNKed Furnitures’ door before. Later, Pioneero would garner the nicknames of “The Thunker” and “SuperThunk” by children who hadn’t been paying much attention to any of the events he was involved in and only remembered him for the loud knocking sound he made.

After the impressive THUNKs had been heard, what followed was the sound like a door squeaking open. This was not surprising, because a door was in fact, squeaking open. It was Furnitures’ cottage door, and who should be opening it? But Furnitures the Great Brown Oaf himself! (or at least an assistant hired to open the door at the appropriate time).

Furnitures stood there in the open doorway. His enormous frame framed by the frame of the door.. frame.

“My Good Friend!” bellowed Pioneero at the sight of the Oaf, and the two embraced. This at first was thoroughly awkward, as they both didn’t fit in the doorway. They had to put the hug on hold while they had their movements properly coordinated (the blocking coach was in a state of fits off-camera). First they had to back up and make sure each had enough room. Once that was accomplished, the heartfelt hug could finally take place. It was pleasing for all to see two such colossal and potent entities engaged in a loving and friendly embrace (better that then have them be out there destroying things -with their giant rampaging club-like hands and arms).

Furnitures was pleased as well. He never turned down hugs. It was one of the few things he actually enjoyed, besides getting fed a decent number of times. He would never have declined the offer of getting returned to his Aquatic Home either, but that just never seemed to happen in an average day, so it was best not to expect it. Digression aside, Furnitures really liked to hug. And this particular one with Pioneero was no exception. He appreciated the friendliness and good fellowship, even if it was just involving actors and a poorly written script. When Pioneero backed away, grasping Furnitures shoulders gently, with a big hearty grin on his wide, but ruggedly potent, face, Furnitures almost appeared to mirror his countenance. The acting coaches were amazed. They hadn’t had this much success in rehearsals.

Not all were warmed by the spectacle. Yetso had been standing there watching on the verge of fuming. His mind was racing. Good Friend? Since when was Pioneero, Furnitures’ Good Friend? YETSO the Fiend was Pioneero’s Good Friend.

Hadn't they both been cabin-boys on old Captain Swigg's merry pirate ship and watched the Cap'n singlehandedly swindle those leprechauns into revealing the hideout of Nicky Neat, the irksome little pixie boy? (who to this day is still causing the Capt'n no end o' trouble) Then later, hadn’t they both been valiant maritime foes of one another as full-fledged minions on so many Pillages and Plunderings? (Pirating is so very competitive.) And hadn’t they discovered that they both should unite against a common enemy, an over-sized sea slug named Pablo Mocha, in order to defeat it? And didn’t that form a bond that could never be broken despite many of Yetso’s countless attempts at doing so (like stealing his underwear, making silly faces all the time at him, and continually jibing him for that one time he tripped on his own shoelaces)? And didn’t they share just too many interests to be anything OTHER than Good Friends? (They both enjoyed macramé for goodness’ sakes!)

And finally, hadn’t Yetso even composed an entire Song in honor of him, and recited it in front of handfuls of children?!

Oh, he most CERTAINLY DID. There were witnesses.

It was just too mind-boggling for Yetso to comprehend. Perhaps Pioneero needed to have his memory jogged (…and underwear stolen, and dignity jibed for tripping on his own shoelaces, and have himself forced to endure silly faces….no, scratch that last one. Yetso was tired of making the silly faces. It had become only too quickly passe, and a behavior not befitting a buccaneer).

Yetso was realizing Pioneero was no longer his ex-foe.

No. He was his EX-EX-FOE!

So Yetso proceeded to take command of the situation the only way he knew how: with lots of Arrrr’s and What Ho’s spoken to the offender. He also liked to employ the cutlass every now and again (cannons, if asea).

He said:

“Arrrr! What Ho! Arrrr!”

And everyone stopped looking at the spectacle of warmth and camaraderie and directed their attentions towards him, a spectacle of wrath and ire.

That is, everyone except Furnitures. He was still in a vague state of newfound hug-induced bliss, and was peering contentedly down at something pretty on the ground. It was his foot.

Yetso continued:

“Arrrrr!”

All available tactics already reverted to, he was just about to reach for his cutlass when Pioneero responded.

“Well, hello there. ‘What Ho’ to you, too! I am warmed to see you, and all the little ones as well.”

Pioneero glanced affectionately at all the children assembled. They appeared not to be paying much attention (none of them had any lines in the script for quite awhile yet).

Yetso slowed his hand which was engaged in the process of brandishing his blade (which he hadn’t yet realized he didn’t even have equipped today, nor ever). Maybe his deterrence can be attributed to Pioneero's reminder of the presence of children.

“I have brought gifts." said Pioneero.

Yetso stopped his hand altogether. At the sound of his words, he promptly forgot he ever even knew what brandishing a blade meant. Blade? What is blade? Isn't 'brandishing' a way to clean upholstery?

Add another ex to that ex-ex-foe.

Pioneero continued:

"Oh, they are but paltry items of little interest. And I'm almost ashamed to offer them. But I meant well. And I hope you will accept them as tokens of my high esteem for you. 'It's the thought that counts', I've heard said."

"Let's go on a Nature Hike!" Phyllis blurted out for no apparent reason.

Yetso would not tolerate the interuption. The acquisition of loot of any kind, stolen or freely given, was an activity of utmost urgency and significance for any respectable pirate, and his focus was entirely set on making sure everything went according to plan. Loot would be acquired, oh yes. Yetso could FEEL its potentiality. He was a bona fide Loot Loon.

"Quiet you!", he hissed at Phyllis. "We must be gracious in our acceptance of his gifts. Otherwise, there is the chance he will decide not to give them. And then we would be forced to 'lay seige'."

Yetso then raised his hook-hand demonstratively, but suddenly realizing the hook was there and not a normal hand, he quickly switched to the hook-less one. Then he extended one solitary index finger towards the sky to punctuate his quoting of an old saying :

"Do not punch a gift-horse in the mouth."

"At least not until you've ridden it!", Yetso added, looking very pleased with himself for his clever addendum. He failed to realize that he had misquoted the old saying, and therefore his addition made no sense. But it was an old saying, and therefore, weak and feeble. It barely noticed its own misusage.

Pioneero, ignoring Yetso's wit, was busy fiddling in his large jacket pockets for the items he was going to present. And Yetso, finished with conveying his lesson in ettiquette for the day, dropped his arm to his side, and eyed Pioneero's pockets. The 'P' word now for Yetso was Patience.

Phyllis wasn't done blurting things out. "You must see the flowers I haven't plucked yet (but am planning to)!" This time she screamed the words.

And this got Pioneero's attention.

"Hush, child. I will see them shortly", he said not unkindly. "First, let me bring out these gifts for you all."

Phyllis was silenced by his gentle words.

This pleased Yetso. He was just about to forget Patience and remember for Phyllis what 'brandishing a blade' meant.

The first gift Pioneero brought out was ..

..some pocket lint?!

Pioneero stared at it a second, bewildered, and lifted his head to look off camera but before he could make eye contact with the Director, a loud "CUT!" had been heralded, which ushered in a new era of Reality and an end to Filming everywhere.

Or at least in this particular set.

Whoops! Never Finished!

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