249. Anatomists and Surgeons

 

249. Anatomists and Surgeons

“Where the devil have you been?” Brana questioned her husband as soon as we got to the Richearth plantation.

“Let me think. I don’t know yet,” murmurred Uncle Richie.

 “You had me so worried!” protested the ex vampire lady frowning deeply.  Alpin says she rarely lets her extravagant husband out of her sight for a second.

“You needn’t have been. Or so I think. In any case, I’m fine.”

“But what have you been doing?”

“Well, you see…I can’t remember a thing,” said my uncle, feigning amnesia rather than explaining to Brana what had become of her child. “When I geta ll the pieces of this puzzle together in my brain, I’ll tell you all about it. It can’t be anything important, or I would remember, wouldn’t I? Just don’t worry any more.”

“Arley, you are a serious person. What has this scamp been at?” Brana asked me.

“You had better sit down if you want to hear this, sister,” Alpin intervened before I could start explaining. “But first, get me something to eat. Your husband has been starving me. All I have ingested is incense smoke.”

“You have smoked what?”

 I didn’t know how to tell Brana that her kid was a possibly involuntary devil manufacturer and that we had left him next to some umbrella stands in a corner of Hotel Infernal, close to the entrance, hoping someone would steal him because it was getting late and we no longer knew what to do about him.

“Someone is sure to want this kid,” said Uncle Richi, “even if Peter Booter doesn’t. Surely some umbrella thief, and there have to be some of those here, won’t be able to resist filching the cage too when he sees it. There have to be people here capable of swiping anything.”

“They might not dare to,” said Aunt Nekutarin. “Surely this is swarming with thieves, but to steal something here must have dire consequences if one is caught.”

If Alpin had not been giving us such a hard time we would have thought twice before leaving Feeseepkee in that corner. And before having to explain all this to Brana, I did something I would never normally have done. I touched her on the shoulder with a peachwood wand Madama Nekutarin had gifted me with. And Brana suffered amnesia. Of recent memories only. She couldn’t remember her husband had been missing or even that she had a son. And then the French cook Uncle Rich had rescued from hell lent us a hand and came to our rescue.

“Who wants me to prepare some sandwiches?” he asked.

And Brana went with him to the kitchen to see what he could do there.

“You’re very clever, Arley, and very wicked,” said Alpin before following his sister and the cook.

“You have done well,” Aunt Nekutarin reassured me. “We mustn’t hex each other, but given the circumstances, and to avoid a much greater evil, this is justified. But only for a while. We have to retrieve the cage. If not, when she comes to her senses, this girl will go crazy and head for the hotel in a rage and raise a row no one there will forget. And since she is very beautiful and will be furious, she is sure to attract the unwholesome attention of certain devils and they will want to keep her there. And you,” she said turning to my uncle, “will have to fight a duel at best or confront an army of demons at worst.”

“I don’t like to fight. I do very little of that,” said Uncle Rich. “And only with husbands. Not the other way around. At least, never yet.”

“Imagine if Death’s Coachman gets involved in this. He is your wife’s father. He won’t take kindly to anyone’s offending her. Or worse yet, if your papa has to rescue you.”

“It is almost a year now since I last was in a scrape,” said Uncle Richi. “Maybe I have a right to be in one again. Oh, heck! I forgot that I was recently kidnapped! By the way, when we get to the hotel, remind me there is something I have to do there about that.”

“About what?”

“My recent kidnapping.”

Uncle Richie, rather down at the mouth, insisted on accompanying Auntie Nectarine, the boys and me to  the hotel, though she much advised against it. Her plan was that the smallest  and bravest of the Peach Boys should sneak into the lobby and recover the cage surreptitiously.

When we were standing before the hotel, I saw someone I was acquainted with. With his bowler had decorated with yellow flowers, an umbrella in his left hand and our cage in his right, was no other than my old friend Tansy Mandrakecott, the lazy artist and…probably something far worse.

“Hey! You! Yes, you, Tansy Mandrakecott!” I cried.

The man saw and heard me and came towards me.

“What do you know? The world is a hanky! Now you wish to see me? The last time we met you ran off leaving me behind. I suppose you need your pencil. It’s yours. You earned it.”

“What I want is our cage.”

“With this folk art doll in it? Oh, I was planning on using  this as a Halloween decoration. But if it’s yours, sure I will return it. But not until you come to my studio and claim your pencil. I’m tired of keeping it for you.”

“Forget the pencil and don’t fuss. Just return the cage, we’re in a hurry and have a serious problem.”

I wanted to take the cage and leave, but Uncle Richearth began to tell this man, who was a total stranger to him, all about Feeseepkee and his problems with his wife because of him.

“Poor devil, what you’ve had to put up with, my friend,” said Tansy to Uncle Richi. “But the truth is that the solution to your problem was made clear to you from the start by this here lady.”

Tansy bowed to Aunt Nekutarin and added, “Ma’am, you were right. But you went to the wrong hell. What do they know about anatomy in Yomi? You should have gone to the cutting hell in Jigoku, where they cut the condemned up in pieces, and had Feeseepkee’s second stomach extirpated. What you people need is a surgeon. And you are in luck, because I have studied anatomy, being a dedicated artist. And since I am a great enthusiast of Japanese art, I have studied anatomy in Jigoku. Where can one learn better?”

“Barbarian! We’re not going to Jigoku! Certainly not!” Aunt Nekutarin was adamant.

“You needn’t. I can perform surgery on Feeseepkee myself. In my kitchen. On the kitchen table.”

“Oh, no. No.  I can pay for the best operating room to be had. No problem,” said my uncle, excited with the idea of having found a solution.

“You are not going to cut Feeseepkee in pieces!” cried Aunt Nekutarin.

“Of course not! We are only going to remove one of his two stomachs,” said Tansy. “The evil one. The one that doesn’t digest seeds but hoards them and later turns them into demons. Without that stomach, this mummy will be practically normal. I only need one of my katashi knives to operate. Feeseepkee won’t need anesthesia considering the state he is in.”

“I’m with Aunt Nekutarin,” I said to my uncle. “I don’t think this is a good idea. And besides this man…may not be what he seems to be. And he has said he isn’t a surgeon.”

“Look here, Arley. Feeseepkee is my son and I have no choice. If this has to be done, we’ll do it,” said my uncle. “I have to keep my wife happy so she won’t make a misery of me.”

“If something bad happens to Feeseepkee, that’s exactly what she will do to you.”

“I have just thought of something that might make you feel differently about this, Arley,” said Tansy. “Call your brother Thymian. Consult this with him. He knows a lot aout anatony too. You will see how he will think just like we do.”

“How is it that you know Thymian?” I asked, much surprised.

“We both frequent Egyptian Art Exhibitions, of course. How could it be otherwise? He owns a magnificent collecton of mummies. I understand he has even resurrected a few.”

“Yes, indeed!” said Uncle Richearth. “Not all mummies want to be resurrected though. Some prefer to remain ghosts rather than return to stiff, cramped corpses.”

“Well, I must say that for a sloth you sure get around, Tansy,” I scoffed. “Listen, who are you? Really?”

I had decided to be brave and ask right out. I couldn’t forget the time in the infernal school when this pupil had suddenly turned into the very Devil. Either the devil had pretended to be Tansy, or Tansy was the Devil himself. I had to know which, as scared as I was of what might be the truth, or even if I thought he would never really tell me.

“Who cares who this fellow is? Are you going to hire a detective? He is trying to help. Call Thymian right now. You know who your brother is. I imagine you do trust your brother, don’t you?” said Uncle Richi.

Thymian was available and appeared in a question of seconds. After giving Aunt Nekutarin a kiss and greeting the Peach Boys, he went up to us and began to discuss our problem with Tansy. To my horror, he and Tansy were of the same opinion. And we all ended up in Mandrakecott’s kitchen. When I say “all” I am including two Egyptian surgeons Thymian summoned from Egyptian hell as well as a Doctor Matasano from the cutting hell Tansy invoked to have his own mentor present.   

Mandrakecott’s kitchen was the filthiest place ever. With one blow of his left hand Tansy sent the soiled pots and pans and dishes on the table to the floor, where they joined more garbage as well as a rat or two.

Aunt Nectarine and I were both shocked. The five Peach Boys didn’t know what to think and remained neutral. Then Tansy showed us his collection of katashi knives. Most were cluttering up the sink, which was full of red…water? The surgeons took Feeseepkee from the cage and laid him on the kitchen table and Tansy began to draw black lines on his chest and belly with a piece of charcoal.

“This is so we wil know where to cut,” said Tansy Mandrakecott.

I felt as if I were having a nightmare.

“This cannot be happening,” I thought. “Surely I will wake any minute now.”

“You hold up that flashlight, Richi, so we can see something,” Thymian said to our uncle.

“Me? No way. I’m going outside to smoke a cigar. I never smoke  cigars, but maybe I will start today.”

“You´ll find  Cuban cigars in the fridge,” said Tansy, pointing to his fridge.

“You’re going to start cutting him up just like that? Without an x-ray or anything? Can your eyes see through him?” I asked.

“We more or less know where everything should be,” answered Thymian, and he began to argue with the Egyptians in a language of energumens. When they came to an understanding, Thymian said to Tansy, “The problem we have is that we don’t know if the stomach will grow back or not. We’re thinking maybe we should seal it instead of removing it. Sew it up so that nothing can enter it, eat what seeds he may.”

“What if you only make him hate seeds?” I said. “Curse him with trypophobia or something like that!”

“Trypophobia?” asked Aunt Nekutarin.

“A horror of patterns with holes. Disgust at the sight of sponges, sunflowers, seedy fruits, and such.”

 “Ah. These blockheads  are too knife-happy to consider alternative therapies,” she said. And so it was.  

The Peach Boys remained inside the kitchen with the surgeons, acting as nurses. Goro had even managed to find alcohol and lye in that ceespool. Uncle Rich, Aunt Nekutarin and I went outside. There were half a dozen impaired rocking chairs on the back porch and we sat there as best we could.

The garden was not of the kind that would help one gain peace of mind. It had only one tree and it looked a lot more evil than that of the imps. And its shadow was even more menacing in the moonlight. The little grass there was in this place existed rather than grew round the tree, being all yellow or brown, with not a touch of green. Something that quivered and twisted at the tree’s  roots gave the impression of being a nest of vipers. And to top the joy of the place, a vulture landed on a branch and stared directly at us.

Lady Nectarine and I did nothing but exchange uneasy looks, but Uncle Richi only stared at the dark sky with despair in his eyes.

“Why me?” he began to lament himself. “What things happen to me! It isn’t fair. I don’t deserve this, do I?”

To make him stop his laments, Aunt Nekutarin began to scold him.

“Don’t you even think of smoking that cigar! Who knows where it has been?”

“Oh! I had forgotten I have this. I took it from the fridge. Ughs!” said my uncle, contemplating the cigar he held in his hands. It seems the fridge contained a lot of cigars, an open can of mouldy duck liver paté and a half-eaten candy bar. “The inside of the fridge was rusty, all a red brown and mustard yellow. I took this so as not to offend Tansy. And now where do I throw it?”

“Don’t you dare to put that in your pocket! And wash your hands! With alocohol!” scolded Aunt Nekutarin. She made a pitcher and a washbowl appear, and lavender soap and cologne and a purple towel too.

“It’s one hell of a cigar. Great brand, that can’t be deined. Should I bury it? A murky might find and smoke it. Maybe Feesepkee’s father.”

“Bah!” said Aunt Nekutarin.

We remained seated there with the vulture and the possible vipers until dawn. When the first ray of light peeked out, Tansy appeared at the doorway and announced victory.

“All’s well!” said the artist.

“Feeseepkee is cured?”

“A successful intervention,” nodded Tansy. “We have sewed up, not cut off, the stomach. It no longer has an opening. And it has fused like it never had one. Even the scar we left has gone. He no longer is a problem.”

A sun beam lit up Uncle Richearth’s happy face and he broke into song.

“Thank you!” he sang to the heavens, and the yellow grass turned emerald green, the tree flourished beyond the wildest expectations, the vulture was transformed into a peacock and the vipers turned out to be butterflies that broke out of cocoons and  flew up to the sky. And that dire place turned into a haven.

Curiously, Tansy tried at first to stop Uncle Richie’s singing. But then he began to cry, moved by the lovely music.

“Time to leave,” said Aunt Nekutarin, “before someone decides to breakfast on cigar and mouldy paté and a nibbled on candy bar.”

We fetched Feeseepkee and all departed. All save Tansy, who said he had pressing engagements elsewhere. We went to have brunch at the Richearth plantation where we were soon dying to try more and more of the canapés prepared by the French cook, though not literally dying. I was very happy because we had returned in time to prepare ourselves for the Midsummer party my parents give every year to welcome the summer.I could hardly believe a year had flown by since Uncle Richie had scandalized everyone shouting he was in love with a Miss Clepeta.

Once at my parents’ party, I approached Uncle Rich’s table to say hi and then I thought I should tell him why I suspected Tansy wasn’t who I thought he was. And this I did.

“I think you may be right. At first I didn’t notice, but when I began to sing and he wanted to shut me up and then tears burst from his eyes, I sort of saw through him. You see, Old Nick doesn’t want me to sing near him if he isn’t playing his violin for me. Only then can he keep from crying, and he hates being seen in tears. When I was a child, I always behaved like an angel and Nick was like obsessed with me for a time. He would keep appearing before me, but always in disguise. When I noticed he was trying to fool me, he would disappear. And I almost always caught on while I was singing, because then he would cry.”