84. The Petal Fling

              

 Every year in May, the flowering trees of Minced Forest celebrate an ancient festival. It is called the Petal Fling, for these trees shake their branches causing the petals of their flowers to fly off to the rythm of little white drums played by the local poison mushroom dwarfs, all wearing bright red suits. Magical people come from near and far to enjoy the spectacle and to gather fresh petals that they will later use in their crafts, spells or kitchen. My parents always attend and they take us with them. Everyone brings picnic food and shares it with everyone else setting it on long wooden tables. Those who dance under the flower shower will be lucky in love for a year. But it never rains to everyone’s liking.

                           

“What a bore!” cried Alpin. “It should be raining jellybeans and not this rubbish that you can find under you feet any old day. It´s only good to step on, for it sort of cushions your feet if there is enough of it. If there’s not, it’s likely to make you slip and end up on the filthy ground yourself, especially if it is wet.”

                               

        “Tais-toi! Tais-toi, petite bête affamée!” Gregoria chided Alpin.

We were at one of the tables that offered all kinds of refreshments and she was checking out what she would allow Alpin to eat.

“Why can’t this woman speak a language civilized people can understand? Is she too dumb to learn?” protested Alpin to his cousin Finbar, the toymaker.

                       

“My creature can speak twelve languages quite fluently and can even tell cautuionary tales in verse in them,” said Finbar, quick to defend his work.“You are supposed to learn from her, but perhaps it’s best you can’t understand a word of what she has just said to you.”

“Say something wise to prove Finbar made you right, Gregoria,” Alpin ordered the bodyguardess.

“These are lentils. Eat them or starve.”

Gregoria pushed a bowl of lentils under Alpin’s chin and thrust a heaping spoonful in his mouth.

Almost choking, Alpin spat the lentils out and cried, “Hey, lady! I don’t need to be encouraged to eat!”

“I think what she is saying is that there won’t be any sweets for you today,” yawned Finbar, always bored when he isn’t working. “I hope you can understand that.”

                            

“It doesn’t matter what she says,” I said. “She’s so pretty just looking at her feeds one’s soul.”

Gregoria is indeed nice to look at, and with her wide hat loaded with lovely lilies of the valley and other spring flowers, she was even far more so that day.

“If you like her so much, why not trade her for your blank check? I’m willing. Let’s do it.”

“You know I can’t do that, Alpin,” I said sadly. I hoped Gregoria was not offended because I couldn’t buy her services. But the check was not mine to dispose of as I chose to.

Before Alpin could respond, the sound of knocking on a tree behind us made us to turn to see what it was about. We expected a woodpecker, but it was nothing of the kind. From behind a cherry tree loaded with delicate blossoms peeked a very strange mortal bird we had never seen before.

“Who is that?” whispered Alpin.

Finbar frowned.

                        

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” said Gemaniah Worrywart leaning against the tree he had just knocked on. “Hello, Lira. At your service.”

He was wearing flowers in his hair too, a bunch of mosty lilac rosebuds pinned to the top of his head. Everyone that comes to the Petal Fling wears a headress or a hat decorated  with flowers.

                                                 

“I want to know if my husband will meet someone at this festival,” said Lira, the jealous merrow.

“Yes!” exclaimed Gemaniah. “He is going to meet us. Where is Prime Minister Binky? You made an appointment for him with us here today.”

                                    

“Oh, I’m right here,” smiled Mr. Binky, shaking petals off  his coat as he emerged from among the trees. “Hello, everybody! My second New Year’s resolution was to consult a  fortuneteller and Lira said hers were the best. Am I getting two for the price of one?”

                                

Minafer Ominous materialized next to Gemaniah and Binky clapped and said, “Splendid, splendid!”

“What shall we tell this fellow?” I heard Mr. Worrywart whisper to Mr. Ominous.

“Something easy,” Minafer whispered back, setting the garland of daisies he was wearing on his head firmly back in place, for it tended to lean a little to a side.

“Hmmm,” said Gemaniah, “Mr. Binky, today, Wednesday, is not favorable. Come back tomorrow.”

“What? But you said I should come today!”

“You, due to your profession, should understand better than anyone else that it is absolutely necessary for us to tell you to come back tomorrow.”

“No, don’t return tomorrow,” Finbar advised Mr. Binky. He had been standing behind his wife, glowering. “You needn’t return, Mungo. You’ve just consulted a fortuneteller so you are done with the second item on your list. Get on with the third.”

“You, Mr. Finbar,” smiled Minafer Ominous, “we see moving your workshop to the East.”

“It has already been suggested to me that I do just that. But I’m not in this for the money. So fat chance.”

“Then your change of address will probably have to do with the global warming. Now, if we aren’t the hottest professionals! We´ve told you, Mr. Binky, the blazing bright truth. The stars are not propitious. And we forsee we will tell you that again tomorrow, because that is how it will still be. However, we are going to charge you now for two sessions because we have spared you coming all the way here tomorrow to hear what we’ve just said and because we have told you today what we would have to tell you tomorrow.”  Gemaniah Worrywart bowed from the waist and added as he rose, “Two hundred Canadian dollars.That’s what we want our fees in today.”

“Our advice is to bide your time, Mr. Prime Minister,” smiled Minafer before Mr. Binky could open his mouth. “In the future, don’t call us. We’ll call you when the occasion is benign.”

“I hope that won’t be when you fellows run out of money,” scoffed Finbar. “Although thanks to my wife that probably will never happen.”

“Hey, Mr. Finbar!” protested Minafer mildly. “As if we didn’t tell your wife the truth!”

Finbar smiled back at him.

“As if I didn’t,” he said.

And then I joined in the conversation. I was not sure if the fortunetellers were authentic prophets, but I could tell they were clever. I got up the courage to ask, “Please, sirs! May I consult you too?”