51. Press-ganged

Soon after the trial, while strolling through Minced Forest, I ran into Mr. Binky. I was alerted of his presence by the Leafies, who, from the greater heights of the trees, saw him coming long before I did.

     

                                        

“Here comes Binky,” murmurred Vincentius with the wind, “merciless herbicide and sworn enemy of free enterprise.”

                                           

“I know you call me herbicide because of all the paper I use up,” replied Mr. Binky, “but since when am I an enemy of free enterprise?”

                                                 

“Since you folded up Basiliska’s business,” explained the Leafy that answered to the name of  Franciscus.

Mr. Binky shook his head in perplexion.

“But she was going to charge you for every word you might say. Should I have let her do that?”

“Bah!” scoffed Vinny. “She could never have collected.”

“You do nothing but criticize me. I don’t deserve this! Next time I’ll let Basiliska send her thugs to break your stems.”

Leafy Vinny leaned over and looked Mr. Binky straight in the eyes.

“Why are you stalking us?” he asked.

“I’m not here to stalk you,” replied Mr. Binky. “I’m stalking Michael O’Toora. That is, I mean I’m looking for him. Do you know which of these trees is his home?”

“Yes,” replied Frankie, “but we’re not saying until you tell us why you want him.”

Mr. Binky was not alone. Behind him skulked Curmudgeon Finn, looking quite downhearted.

“Remember how Titania said I had to educate Curmudgeon Finn? Well I’ve been trying to teach him to read and write for a week and the experience tells me this is a task for a professional.”

                                           

“What?” cried Michael emerging from his treehouse with a worried frown. “I’m not a professional teacher. I’m under a spell. It’s not vocational.”

“But you’re good!” flattered Mr. Binky. He said Michael was doing a great job teaching Mr. Quijano and Mr. Panza. They loved him!

Michael would not be flattered. He insisted his pupils were the kind that learned by themselves. It was no merit of his.

“What you want is to rid yourself of Curmudgeon because you know he can’t be taught at all.”

“Why, Michael! How can you say that? It’s very easy to teach Curmudgeon. All one needs is a little time. And you have a lot of it. I, instead, am always so busy.”

“What cheek!” cried Michael. “Busy? Embroiling everyone else’s life! And now you want to embroil mine. I have enough being bossed by Glorvina!”

                                                   

And hearing her name mentioned, Glorvina appeared. She told Mr. Binky that when she put the spell on Michael she said he had to teach English but didn’t specify to whom. So that meant Michael had a right to choose his pupils. She did add that she was sorry for Curmudgeon. It was sad how no one wanted to teach the poor man to read and write.

“You’re a pack of idlers!” cried Alpin. He had strolled up the path in time to hear what the fuss there was about. “I volunteer to do it. Let me teach Curmudgeon. You’ll see how he learns!” And he picked a broken branch from the ground and switched the air with it.

“Don’t you dare touch anyone with us!” cried the Leafies who were hiding in the branch. “We’ll turn on you!”

Glorvina took the branch from Alpin and said it was kind of him to want to help. But did he really think he could teach Curmudgeon to read and write?

“Eh, Curmudgeon,” said Alpin. “Why are you looking so down at the mouth? I’m not going to waste my time torturing you. There’s easier ways fools can learn. Effortless ones, too. I know three ladies who keep a magic fish. If you eat it, you get to be a genius. Unfortunately, although it is always reborn after being eaten, they are not very generous with it. But that shouldn’t be a problem for you because you have experience kidnapping people. It should be easy for you to sequester a fish.”

                                                

“Where do I have to go to fetch it?” asked Curmudgeon, brightening up a little upon hearing of a task he could perform.

“Will it really turn him into a genius?” asked Leafy Vinny.

“Sure! An evil genius,” assured Alpin.

                                        

He had barely spoken the word “evil” when we heard a dog bark. It was Woof MacTecla, the Wise Sisters’ pet Westie, showing his sharp little fangs. Behind him stood Luxviminda, her hands on her hips.

                               

                              

“Come within a hundred miles of my fish, you rotten egg, and I’ll turn you into an inedible omelette,” Luxviminda threatened Curmudgeon.

“Not to worry, Miss,” said Mr. Binky hastily. “I’ll issue a restraining order.” He knew very well how unwise it was to provoke the sisters.

“Luxviminda, are your sisters here with you? I want to ask Sabatica for a sabbatical year,” said Michael, who always felt it was better to prevent than to have to cure.

“She can’t grant you one because she is on one herself,” answered the strawberry blonde Scottish witch.

And then Glorvina began to plead for Curmudgeon. “If you don’t rehabilitate a criminal he is sure to relapse. Poor man! What a pity! We don’t want that to happen, do we?”

                                        

But it was Fergus MacLob who put the real pressure on Michael.

“Shame on you!” he cried. “You are no son of mine. You were clever enough to put Curmudgeon back in the streets. You’re responsible for what he does now. Teach him not to get into trouble again! Or it will be you who will be responsible for his crimes.”

Fergus made Michael feel so guilty that he gave in and said he would do what he could.

“Don’t forget to prepare a personal curriculum for him,” said Mr. Binky. “So I can approve it. Let’s do things right from the start.”

      

This last remark made the Leafies feel indignant.

“Binky, herbicide! Binky, press-gangster!” they hissed and spat throughout the forest with the wind in the leaves.

“How do you do it?” Mr. Binky asked Fergus and Glorvina. “You bullied Michael into cooperating but nobody is insulting you.”