
The Bat-winged Cape
As we walked out of Master Tragedy’s Sorcerer’s tower toward the crafting district of Cair Tellos, I was carrying the huge jar of midnight shadows that Master Eli had given us to have a cape made from for Derfentwinkle. She was carrying the bottle imp, Kackenfurchtbar, in case I needed to test the truthfulness of what Derfie was telling us. But once on the stair to the Stitch-Witches’ Fabric and Sewing Shoppe, I turned to Derfie and set the jar down on a wooden step for a moment.
“Um, ah… Derfentwinkle?”
“Yes, Bob?”
“Can I… um… give you… ahem… I mean… would it be okay if I… gave you a…” I opened my arms before I said the actual words’
“A hug, Bob?”
I nodded silently, and she grabbed me with both arms and pressed my face against her bare bosom. I felt awkward, but I didn’t pull back. I put both of my arms around her and squeezed her just as hard.
“Because the Erlking’s Wizard nearly cut our heads off before we ever got a chance to…”
“Hug each other like this?” she finished my sentence. She used her empty hand to stroke the back of my head.
“Yeah…”
We held each other tightly for a few long minutes. Then, suddenly, Anneliese was there.
“Ah, Derfentwinkle, I see you’ve discovered how huggable the nicest Sylvan boy in all of Cair Tellos really is.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Of the hug, maybe. But I can surely share my best boy.”
“Best boy? Not, boyfriend?” Derfie asked.
“Anne is a Storybook and much older than me,” I said, reluctantly releasing my hold on the necromancer’s apprentice.
“Oh, right. Old enough to be your mother, I suppose?”
“Or his grandmother,” said Anneliese with a wrinkling of her nose above a puckish grin. “If you like my almost grandson, then that pleases me.””
“Did you come seeking us?” I asked her.
“Yes, I did. Master Eli told me where to find you two. A pretty little Butterfly Child named Dollinglammer has been asking about you in the residential towers. She seems intent on finding you. Especially you, Bob,”
“We have to go to the stitch-witches to get a cape made for Derfie. But if you come with us, you can take us to her afterwards,” I suggested.
“That would be lovely,” Anne said. “I have been interested to get to know this new Sylph friend of yours, Bob.”
Anneliese, nude as always, was absolutely beautiful. She had longish blond hair which curled wildly, and she never combed it. She was shaped like the fourteen-year-old human girl she was when the Nazis put her to death at Auschwitz. She was now an immortal Storybook thanks to a story her mother told about her, so her beauty would never fade or change.
She put an arm around my neck as I picked up the jar of shadows, and she put her other arm around Derfie, drawing us both close to her.
“Derfentwinkle, my powers as a Storybook are openness and honesty. If you ever need to talk to about the shadows that are inside of you, I’m your friend. I will talk about it with you as honestly as anyone can. And I say this as a guarantee, I can help you.”
Derfie looked down at the ground as we continued into the shop of the stitch-witches.
Bibby-Joon, the elder stitch-witch met us there. She was a Pixie with the upper torso of a youthful woman and the abdomen and spider legs of a large spider.
“We will have the cape done for you in a matter of minutes,” Bibby said. “It will be a very special Batwing Cape just as Master Eli ordered. It will not only protect you from mind control and influence spells, but it will turn into bat wings on command so you can fly. And if you wrap it all the way around you while standing in shadow, you will disappear and remain invisible as long as you do not move.”
We came out of the shop with Derfentwinkle wearing her new protective magic cape.
“It looks very becoming on you,” Anneliese told her.
“Kack? Is the necromancer’s mind control working on Derfie in any way?” I asked the bottle imp just as Master Eli had instructed me.
“No, Bob. Any evil she does now will be entirely her own doing.”
I think that answer made me frown or something. Anneliese put a comforting hand on the back of my neck and said, “Don’t worry, Bob. Everything is as it should be.” Derfie was smiling at the ground. And I couldn’t help feeling how beautiful she was… to me, at least. And worrying about how much control that gave her over me.












If you are going to entertain a completely absurd notion like, “Shakespeare wasn’t really written by Shakespeare”, then you have to have some knowledge of the times and the context within which such a profoundly counter-intuitive thing could possibly be true. And it also helps to understand more precisely what the “writing of Shakespeare” actually means. Now, I know it is not particularly fair to confuse you, dear reader, right before I try to dazzle you with my complicated and over-thunk lackwit conspiracy theory, but that is, after all, what obfuscation actually means.











On the Problem of Always Being Wrong
I was a middle-school teacher for thirty-one years. That, of course, basically means I have to be wrong about everything. Principals have told me so. Parents have told me so. And students who have heard them say so take it completely to heart because, well… Who has the most authority to declare someone else completely wrong?
Yes, I have it on good authority… I am wrong about everything, always.
.
But it is very useful to realize that I am in good company. Galileo was wrong about the sun not going around the Earth. The College of Cardinals said it was so, and the Inquisition forced him to confess he was wrong. Giordano Bruno was so wrong about Copernicus being right that the Inquisition had to burn him at the stake. One would almost think that it is a bad thing to be wrong.
But it’s not.
Science, in fact requires its greatest practitioners to find out all the ways that they are wrong. How else do you create a theory of what is probably right?
It is fundamental to the scientific method to be as right as it is possible to prove. Of course, every scientific theory yields up a lot of anomalies that somehow defy the rules of the currently understood correct theory.
Isaac Newton got thumped on the brain-top by an apple and realized that the same thing that made the apple fall to Earth was making the Moon fall to the Earth, although the Moon is falling at the same rate as it is going around the Earth, so it never finishes the falling.
Later, Albert Einstein would realize that Newton’s gravity would even bend the light of distant stars around the edges of the Sun. And so, he found where Newton, genius that he was, was wrong. And so, the Theory of Relativity was born.
Guess what. Einstein was wrong too.
So, ultimately, it is okay for me to be wrong about things. It is necessary to be wrong before you can find out what is right. So, when I say something stupid like the following…
Comedy is good for you.
You should be naked more.
Fairies are only real if you believe in them.
You must take a leap of faith and live in the world like a Navajo, in tune with the natural world and comfortable with other people living in your world too. Moment by moment in the present moment.
…and eventually, I may stumble upon what is right and true. Or get burned at the stake like Bruno. That happens too.
2 Comments
Filed under artwork, commentary, fairies, humor, Paffooney, philosophy