Todd and Poppy Ride Again

by Jim Parker Dixon



  Todd and Poppy Ride Again

  by Jim Parker Dixon

  Copyright 2015 Jim Parker Dixon

  ISBN: 9781311505446

  “You know, it's the oddest thing in the world,” began Todd to Poppy, “but when I woke up this morning, I had absolutely no idea at all that by late afternoon I would be flying through the English countryside on the back of a rampaging donkey.”

  “You know what,” said Poppy, “as it happens, upon waking up this morning, exactly the same thought didn't occur to me either. In fact, the only thing on my mind was how rapidly I could put on my Little Red Riding Hood dress. In point of fact, that was my first and only significant action of the day.”

  “And yet here we are,” said Todd, “clinging for dear life to the back of a rampaging donkey.”

  “And yet here we are,” said Poppy.

  “I must confess,” said Todd, who was gasping for breath and composure, “that with regard to our current situation, I find myself with a point to make.”

  “I long to hear it,” said Poppy, who was gripping firmly around Todd's waist and crushing his kidneys.

  “Well, interestingly, it occurs to me that the origin of our current situation – let us say its most prominent cause – might well lie with your decision to wear your Little Red Riding Hood dress this morning.”

  “I hope,” gasped Poppy, who was also somewhat lacking of essential breath and was additionally afeared of being thrown from the back of the rampaging donkey, and thence onto the ground, thereby making her face and other bodily bits and pieces available for trampling, abrasions and mangling; “I hope,” she gaspingly repeated, “you are not about to embark upon some artful analysis whose bias it is to distribute liability in my direction and absolve yourself of blame.”

  “Not for a moment, I was merely....”

  “Additionally, and whatever the tune of your enquiry, I do not believe this to be either the time or the place for partial assessments. I was rather hoping instead for some ill-thought out act of spontaneous bravery to bring this deadly episode of donkey sport to a prompt and safe conclusion. Such, one might insist, seems due, not to say overdue.”

  “Your point is well made, and I take it will all charity. But, and forgive me, it was rather for the want of a heroic solution that I began ruminating upon the events that led up to this our overwhelming strife. I am given over to deciphering how it ever was that we came to be clinging to the back of this rampaging donkey when, only moments prior, we were pretending to enjoy a miserable family picnic and were conducting ourselves with perfectly unexceptionating decorum. And yet now we find ourselves in the midst of this donkey related chaos. Questions need to be asked.”

  “Questions?” said Poppy.

  “Questions,” said Todd.

  “Questions?” said Poppy again, but with more noise and insistence, drawing out the querying tone latent in her query.

  “Questions: the narrative should be laid out, our story should be laid straight. What shall we say, for instance, if we are collared by some coppers for suspected donkey larceny? Or a breach of the peace? Alibis and explanations ought to be prepared.”

  “Speaking for my part, a copper, especially one with a talent for valiance and selfless acts, would be a welcome sight at this juncture, since the donkey flies with unceasing vigour towards that railway line.”

  “Ah!”, said Todd, “I did not espy that railway line, but noticing it now, I also notice how large it looms on our horizon and how quickly it inserts itself into our destiny. Tell me, how frequent is the rail service to London?”

  “I believe it to be much enhanced. This befits the needs of the modern commuter, but not so much the needs of those poor souls such that are flying towards the tracks on the back of a rampaging donkey,” said Poppy.

  “The irony is indeed striking,” said Todd.

  “Perhaps in the light of this new and deadly train subplot, the issue of the heroic cessation of this current misadvented donkey ride could be re-posed with greater urgency, and perhaps the disquisition regarding causes and responsibilities postponed for another time, a time considerably hence?”

  “I follow you to the letter,” said Todd, “all I have to say in this regard is that it is my view that the pitch of urgency and plight that our current situation currently manifests – I allude to this donkey's blind flight into train-crushed oblivion – leapt to its highest notch precisely at the same moment that you struck the donkey on its furry haunches with that battery-powered wand of yours, startling the animal into its ground-molesting gallop. With urgency and plight already at their maximum, speculating about imminent train collisions makes only a marginal difference to our ongoing pickle. In sum, I'd probably call it more of the same.”

  “Your point has merit. Though not so much as to make my towering sense of mortal hazard dissipate into balms of calm. Proceed to your analysis if you must, though indulge me by adding a very enormous jot of hastiness into your delivery,” said Poppy.

  “Thank you, and without further ado, it seems that I have already alluded to the chief cause when I mentioned, only moments ago, your striking of the donkey's rear parts with a plastic wand. I judge the animal to have been psychologically ill-prepared for such an intervention into its repose, and perhaps that is why it began this its flight. It was probably chewing the cud and dreaming of greener pastures when it suffered the wound. One almost feels pity.”

  “The wand,” said Poppy, “is an indispensable part of my costume. Little Red Riding Hood without her magic wand is like the three little piglets without the spinning wheel. The pith and point of the tale are quite vanished.”

  “Dear sister,” said Todd, “I am no pedant, but do recall, no wand features or otherwise appears in the traditional rendering of the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. I regard the device to be superfluous to the story and to your costume, and it has, additionally, been recently shown to greatly offend donkeys.”

  “You err,” said Poppy. “Without the wand Little Red Riding Hood would be powerless to enchant the apple that makes the Wolf succumb to sleep before he could blow down the tall tower in which Grandma had been imprisoned by the long haired Woodcutter.”

  “Don't take offence,” said Todd, “but your recollections are utter soup. But let us not be sidetracked. The issue of the moment is why you ever took it upon yourself to strike the animal with a plastic wand at all. Or do you believe that donkey beating features amongst Little Red Riding Hood's many vices?”

  “That is easily answered,” said Poppy, “my intention was to incline the donkey to sit. The force of my blows was merely proportional to the obduracy the species is famed for.”

  “And when and why did inducing the animal to sit rise to the top of your priorities?”

  “When,” replied Poppy, “my initial interest in mounting the animal became radically transformed into a desire to dismount the animal.”

  “I see,” said Todd, “a change of heart?”

  “Just so,” said Poppy. “It is remarkable how rapidly the mood changes with a change of aspect. A donkey viewed from the right side of a stout fence appears the very essence of commodiousness. Once upon its back, unattractive aspects present themselves.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the roughness of the hide, the fleas, the odour, and the all-round failings of temperament. And there are theological issues to raise, issues the donkey must answer to.”

  “Issues? Theological?”

  “Just as I say. For did not our Lord ride upon a donkey?”

  “I've heard it said,” said Todd. “But I do not think it could have been this here donkey – the one which even now transports us into regions of enormous harm – that the gospels ment
ion.”

  “Still you quibble,” said Poppy. “It is to the spirit of those distant events that I bind my complaint – do not fuss like a lonely geek upon the letter of some tittle tattle.”

  “Very well,” said Todd, “and since I regretfully detect by my ears the din of an oncoming locomotive, make haste to your complaint and complain it.”

  “Did that donkey,” said Poppy, “the one that bore our Lord, did that donkey buck and bray and protest against its incumbrance by gadding about like a total goose and making off with its burden in the direction of a railway line?”

  “I am certain that if the entry into Jerusalem had descended into such farce, the Israelites would have made a note of it.”

  “Exactly,” said Poppy, “it follows then that donkeys are gentle and compliant in nature, abiding and biddable. And my question to this current donkey is, why are the noble characteristics of the species not evidenced today? Why this turbulence and strenuous flight?”

  “It is,” said Todd, “a moot point which of our two donkeys is the rule, and which the exception. Perhaps it is hard to generalise with reliability from such a small sample. And yet, the fulsomeness of this actually throbbing donkey fills my brain with much empirical evidence to persuade me that whatever precedent was set by the donkeys of yore, the species is, now, uniformly and perfectly, cantankerous and vile. Though perhaps I