The Gothamites

by Eno Raud

  The Gothamites agreed with the elder and busied themselves at once with helping the tree quench its great thirst. They tied a long rope to its crown, crossed to the opposite bank, and heaved all at once so the whole tree dipped toward the water.

  Once the crown had been tugged low enough, a man was ordered to climb it and thrust the tree’s nose into the stream. The man did so, clambering up and pushing the branch into the water. Yet at that very moment, the rope snapped and the tree straightened up at a frightful speed, causing a big, thick branch to knock off the climber’s head. The man crashed to the ground and his head rolled into the stream without anyone noticing.

  The Gothamites were astonished by what they then saw, and tried as hard as they could to remember whether or not the man had had his head before he scaled the tree. Alas, no one was absolutely certain.

  The chief Gothamite finally spoke:

  “As far as I can tell, he wasn’t wearing his head at all today. I yelled to him three or four times this morning but got no response. Therefore, I believe he didn’t hear my calls. If he didn’t hear my calls, then he didn’t have ears. If he didn’t have ears, then that means he didn’t have a head, either, because everyone knows your ears are firmly attached to it.”

  Just in case, a couple of Gothamites were sent to speak with the headless man’s wife and investigate further. The woman thought for a short while, then said:

  “His head was definitely still on his shoulders when I scratched it last Saturday. As for later, I can’t say off the top of my own head. His hat is hanging on its peg. If his head isn’t in the hat, then I suppose he took it with him.”

  The Gothamites took the hat off the peg, but found no head inside. To this day, the Gothamites still don’t know if the man left home with or without his head.

  What Became of the Crayfish in Gotham

  ONCE, A CRAYFISH GOT LOST while looking for the way to its den and accidentally ended up in Gotham. The Gothamites had never seen the likes of a crayfish before, so they quickly rang the alarm bell and the whole town converged to get a closer look at the peculiar creature. They were astounded by how the crayfish was able to scuttle both forwards and backwards, as if it had eyes at both ends. They inspected it from every angle for a long time, then started debating what on earth it might be. Finally, the community elder said:

  “I believe it is a tailor, because it’s carrying two pairs of scissors.”

  In order to clear up the issue, the Gothamites hauled a large swath of cloth outside and laid it over the grass in front of the crayfish. Then, they let the little tailor crawl across the cloth while one man took a pair of scissors and made cuts along the creature’s trail – for the Gothamites reckoned that the crayfish’s course was meant to show them new fashions.

  The little master tailor went his merry way around the cloth, scuttling this way and that, back and forth, until the whole sheet of fabric had been sliced up into strips that couldn’t even be used as a proper collar or a mop rag anymore. The Gothamites thus realized that the bizarre creature knew very little about the art of tailoring.

  Then, however, one man stepped out from the crowd and said:

  “I have an incredibly smart son at home who has traveled the world a great deal. In a mere three days he walked a whole three dozen miles around. I reckon he must have seen and learned the ways of critters like this on his long journey.”

  The wise son was called for immediately. He stared at the strange creature for a long time, trying to remember whether he’d seen anything of its kind in the big, wide world. One thing was as clear as could be: the unfamiliar animal could move both backwards and forwards with equal ease. But since everyone goes in the direction of their nose, the creature naturally must have had two noses. And since your nose sticks out of your head, then it went without saying that the unusual critter had two heads, too. Yet, the Gothamite’s globe-trotting son had never heard of a two-headed animal, much less seen one with his own eyes.

  So, the Gothamites were just as smart as they’d been earlier.

  Finally, one man reached out and tried to poke the peculiar beast. The crayfish seized the Gothamite’s finger in its powerful claws and squeezed it so hard that the man screamed at the top of his lungs:

  “Help! Come help! It’s a murderer! A nasty murderer!”

  Now the Gothamites became furious with the crayfish and decided to hold trial over the impertinent intruder right then and there. When the animal’s crimes had been discussed by the council, a ruling was made immediately:

  “No one knows what this creature is, but we do know that it made itself look like a tailor, even though it wasn’t. Thus, it’s obvious that it is a charlatan and a harmful animal overall. What’s more, it’s a dreadful killer. Therefore, we sentence this nasty critter to death by drowning.”

  Together, the Gothamites carried the crayfish to the lake and tossed it into the water. Everyone witnessed the evil fiend slap its tail against the surface and scoot backwards along the bottom of the lake. Yet seeing this, some of the men with gentle hearts started to cry, and exclaimed:

  “Oh, look at how bitter that little guy’s death is!”

  That is how the Gothamites made the crayfish pay a just price for its deeds.

  The Story of the Mousing Dog and How the Gothamites Left Gotham

  THE GOTHAMITES HAD NO CATS, so it was no wonder that they were in quite a bind with mice. The little sharp-toothed thieves tended to get into bread and other edibles everywhere they could, and had become quite the nuisance for Gotham’s residents.

  One day, a stranger was journeying through Gotham and stopped by the tavern. The man had a cat with him. When the Gothamite bartender saw the long-whiskered feline under the stranger’s arm, he asked straightaway what kind of a creature it was.

  “It’s a mousing dog,” the wayfarer replied.

  When the barkeep expressed his astonishment, the stranger agreed to demonstrate how his mousing dog went about its business right then and there.

  Left unpunished, the mice in Gotham had become so bold that they pattered around freely in broad daylight and weren’t afraid of humans at all. They even skittered to and fro across the tavern floor and tables. When the stranger set the cat down on the floor, it bounded at breakneck speed to attack the mice, killing a whole mound of them in no time.

  The barkeep was absolutely flabbergasted by what he had seen, and immediately sent word to the other Gothamites to come and see the mousing dog. Before long, the whole community was packed into the tavern.

  Having witnessed the wonder, the Gothamites wanted to purchase the cat from the wanderer and promised to pay a pretty price for the skilled animal.

  “I wasn’t planning on selling him,” the stranger replied, “but it appears you are in dire need of a good mousing dog. For that reason, I would gladly hand him over for sixty silver coins.”

  The Gothamites were overjoyed that the man hadn’t bartered a higher price for the useful animal and promptly counted out sixty silver coins from the community chest, dropping them into his palm.

  When celebratory drinks had been drunk, the stranger took the cat to the council chamber, where the Gothamites’ grain was stored and the largest number of mice had sprung up. He then hurried off on his way, because he was afraid that the Gothamites might start to regret their purchase and demand their money back. As the man went, he kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure no one was following him.

  The Gothamites suddenly remembered they had forgotten to ask what mousing dogs ate. So, they quickly dispatched one of their speediest men to chase down the traveler and gain a clearer understanding of the animal.

  When the stranger noticed he had a Gothamite hot on his heels, he doubled his pace and sprinted away at such a speed that the messenger couldn’t close the distance between them.

  Panting, the Gothamite stopped and called out after the stranger: />
  “What will it eat? What will it eat?”

  “Mouse and veal cuts!” the stranger called back, and kept running.

  However, the breeze jumbled the traveler’s words and the Gothamite thought he shouted: “House and people!”

  The messenger had no choice but to sadly return to the village and tell everyone what he’d heard.

  “Oh, woe are we!” the Gothamites cried. “When we run out of mice for the mousing dog, then it’ll first devour our houses, then all of us to boot!”

  Without delay, they began discussing how to get rid of the terrible beast. After long hours of debate, they reckoned that the wisest move would be to set the council chamber on fire, roasting the mousing dog to death.

  So, the eaves of the council chamber were set alight. Yet when the cat spotted the flames, it darted out a window, crawled down the wall, scritching and scratching, and fled to another house.

  The Gothamites’ despair was now greater than ever before – their precious council chamber had burned to the ground, but the dreadful mousing dog was still alive and well! Nevertheless, they couldn’t give up. The Gothamites used the community’s money to buy the house containing the escaped cat and torched it just as they had the first building.

  When fire broke out again, the cat climbed onto the roof. It sat there for a while and started washing its whiskers with its paws. However, it appeared to the Gothamites as if the cat was casting an awful curse upon them by raising its paw, condemning them to death and destruction.

  One brave Gothamite grabbed a long pole and tried using it to prod the mousing dog into the flames. But lo and behold – the cat just scurried down the pole to safety!

  Seeing this, the Gothamites were so upset that they hotfooted it off into the woods together. And since no one was left to stop it, the entire village of Gotham burned to the ground, leaving only heaps of ash behind.

  The Gothamites’ sorrow knew no bounds. Left without food and shelter, they stood with heads hung low on the edge of the woods, wondering what to do about their misfortune. Even the Gothamite chief’s usual wisdom had been drained to the very last drop on this occasion. He sat atop a boulder and wept pitifully for Gotham’s former honor and glory.

  But one way or another, the Gothamites had to somehow carry on. Having no other choice, they bid farewell to one another and journeyed out into the world to search for a new home – one here and another there, one to one land and another to another.

  Ever since then, the Gothamites’ descendants have lived all over. Doubtless we as well occasionally encounter fools and dunderheads whose stupidity astounds us. But to be fair, there’s nothing by which to be astonished. Those fools and dunderheads are simply the great-grandchildren and the great-great-great-grandchildren of the Gothamites who are honoring the ways of their ancestors.