I once read a review of a Lyle Lovett concert, in which the writer noted that he introduced the song "Here I Am" by saying something like, "I wrote this song. I don't know why. I'm going to play it for you. I'm sorry."
I feel the same way about my latest Finish That Thought entry.
The opening line was The entire family had undoubtedly been hit with [the ugly stick], but they had been [blessed] in other ways.
Our special challenge to include four of the following.
A pair of binoculars.
A fur coat.
A potted plant.
An aromatherapy candle.
A pair of sunglasses.
A Kindle with a copy of FlashDogs Anthology on it. ;-)
Here is "Fugly"
The entire family undoubtedly had been hit with the ugly stick. And we’re not talking about a Texas leaguer; they were knocked out of the park.
But they had been blessed in other ways. They could move things with their minds. Potted plants. Paintings. Even the occasional Rottweiler. How the Flying Duckman family came to possess this singular talent is the interesting part of the story.
Young Miss Capulet waxed
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet
Our histories are forged by our names. An Eisenhower is destined for military greatness; a Clooney, for dashing good looks and a proclivity to marry a woman 17 years his junior. And if you are a Flying Duckman....
The Flying Duckman family can trace its ancestry back to a small Bavarian village named Unsinn, renowned as the home of the Yoder Yodeling Academy. (“Frightening Sheep Since The Reformation.”) The Fliegend Dückens, as they were know then, and there, were inventors. One of their most controversial devices was das Fliegend Ding, translated literally as “the Flying Thing.”
Unsinn also was home to the Scheiße Brücken family. Brücken, you might have guessed, translates as “brick.” As for Scheiße... let us just say it is a word one should use only in the presence of Herr Proktologist, and leave it at that. The Scheiße Brücken family were the wealth behind Unsinn, owing to their ownership of the only brick factory north of the Alps. Many people wondered how the Scheiße component tied in, but were too afraid—or too disgusted—to ask.
Regardless, the town’s mayor, Bürgermeister Scheiße Brücken, longed to be the first man to soar above the green fields of Unsinn in the Fliegend Dückens’ Fliegend Ding. And seeing as how he personally bankrolled the venture, he had a certain expectation of reciprocation.
What's in a name? For one named Scheiße Brücken, it’s an aversion to heights, along with the attendant rolls, loops, and dives of a prototypical aircraft. One particular dicey maneuver prompted the good mayor to let go of... a personal Brücken, shall we say.
Regrettably, the aerial bombardment inadvertently targeted the walkway in front of the home of the village’s witch, Drusilla Malfoy (and before you ask... yes, she is) just at the moment that a young couple, Hansel and Harry had happened upon her cabin of candy, and were about to be lured in to a lurid life of lollipop lechery.
But the “gift from the sky” frightened the children away, and sullied the witch’s fur coat, a gift from the village’s designated crooner, Liberach. So angry was Drusilla that she cast a spell upon the Fliegend Dückens family, saddling them and their lineage with a “face like a duck, and a nose like a courgette.” But owing to her poor eyesight and poorer command of Bavarian sorcery, instead of concluding the curse with “terrible sneezes,” she uttered “telekinesis.”
And there you have it.
And I am sorry.