No Title Yet

Chapter 3

The Story The Authors

"Oho! Whakaoho, hakewa! Ka kangaia e ia ona hoariri katoa!" [Wake up! Arise, idiot! Or I shall curse your entire family with shingles and chronic flatulence!] Hinenuitepo turned her mouth into a sharp beak and produced then the shrill, ear-splitting aue shriek of the gaena-bird, causing bllod to flow from Pata's ears. She then caused Pata's body to be covered with a swarm of tickling mice, in a cruel attempt to tickle Pata back into consciousness, meanwhile having grown nine extra sets of arms so as to be able to bang together all the metal cookware hanging from hooks on the wall in the kitchen of Pata's mind, and to tear open the drawers and throw all the silverware up in the air and came clattering down on the floor in much the same way that the inscrutable Chinee was once rumored to name his newborn children. But still Pata refused to awaken. Philip

Hinenuitepo then caused ten thousand cymbals to be clashed together simultaneously, producing so loud a sound that wavers were felt through the time-space continuum causing (a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away) such bizarre ripples as the Taj Mahal and the White House momentarily replacing each other, the splendid V of a flock of Canada geese (replicating the splendid V hidden somewhere within the varicolored folds of Pata's sleep) to fly backwards for ten miles, and a young lad (a country sawbones' assistant) named William Grant to theorize the warbling circuitry of the theramin fully fifty years before Thomas Edison harnassed the bluewhite power of electricity so that Don Van Vliet could howl its praises in 1967 (accompanied by, of all things, a theramin...)
But still Pata did not awaken. Philip

Vigo wrinkled his bewhiskered nose from a hidden corner behind the sugar intake valve.
This clatter and clashing, this primitive noise
Is wrecking my cool, destroying my poise,
but the old lady is dead to the world,
She's stuck in a coma, her sleep won't unfurl
while my sensitive ears get destroyed!
Despite his diminuative stature, Vigo Itsy was not a one to mess with when irritated. He flung himself from his hiding place and scurried furiously over to the angry Demi-God.
Lanark

Hinenuitepo had an idea. The bane of Pata's husbands existence was his inability to become romantic with his wife without her bursting into fits of giggling and laughter. He would always look forward to spending special evenings with her, and would go to great lengths to plan out elaborate romantic settings. Whether he rented a luxurious penthouse suite overlooking the bay and filled the room with the soft tones of her favorite Maori mating songs, placed hundreds of burning candles all around the bed, spread bouquets of beautiful blooming flowers all around and confections so that the smell of chocolate was in the air, laid out a scentuous array of body oils and comfortable fluffy down pillows, or whether he took her to a quiet place with the sound of running water, sunlight filtering down through the trees, birds chirping from above, a thick homemade quilt laid down on gentle fresh spring grasses, warm air moving just enough to warm their skin and bring them the fragrance of of the cherry blossom trees nearby. The setting didn't matter. He would caress her. Massage her. Recite poems to her. Kiss her passionately. He would look deep into her eyes and say "Pata He kotahi ano te kotahi, a, ko a ia anake.[One is one and all alone.] Kotahi tonu te mahunga o te tangata, kotahi te kaki. [A man has only one head and one neck] A tetahi ra ka hoki mai a ia ki te kainga. [One day he will come home.] Au kai whakarongo atua. [I have listened to God]. Nona Rongo[his message]: Whakapuakina te pono ahua [I speak the truth] Ko Ihowa Ahau, ko tou Atua. [I am the Lord your God.] Ko taku whakahau tenei [This is my commandment] me aroha tetahi ki tetahi [love one another]." Yet the moment he began touch her whakararo Kora [down there] she would start giggling. He would try to ignore it at first, but it would well up inside her and eventually she'd burst into a fit of laughter. Hinenuitepo seized on this experience and began to taunt Pata. Oho! Whakaoho! Panga kai whakararo Kora! [Wake up! Arise! Or I will touch you down there!] pH

The Story	The Authors
"Oho! Whakaoho, hakewa! Ka kangaia e ia ona hoariri katoa!" [Wake up! Arise, idiot! Or I shall curse your entire family with shingles and chronic flatulence!] Hinenuitepo turned her mouth into a sharp beak and produced then the shrill, ear-splitting aue shriek of the gaena-bird, causing bllod to flow from Pata's ears. She then caused Pata's body to be covered with a swarm of tickling mice, in a cruel attempt to tickle Pata back into consciousness, meanwhile having grown nine extra sets of arms so as to be able to bang together all the metal cookware hanging from hooks on the wall in the kitchen of Pata's mind, and to tear open the drawers and throw all the silverware up in the air and came clattering down on the floor in much the same way that the inscrutable Chinee was once rumored to name his newborn children. But still Pata refused to awaken.	Philip
Hinenuitepo then caused ten thousand cymbals to be clashed together simultaneously, producing so loud a sound that wavers were felt through the time-space continuum causing (a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away) such bizarre ripples as the Taj Mahal and the White House momentarily replacing each other, the splendid V of a flock of Canada geese (replicating the splendid V hidden somewhere within the varicolored folds of Pata's sleep) to fly backwards for ten miles, and a young lad (a country sawbones' assistant) named William Grant to theorize the warbling circuitry of the theramin fully fifty years before Thomas Edison harnassed the bluewhite power of electricity so that Don Van Vliet could howl its praises in 1967 (accompanied by, of all things, a theramin...) But still Pata did not awaken.	Philip
Vigo wrinkled his bewhiskered nose from a hidden corner behind the sugar intake valve. This clatter and clashing, this primitive noise Is wrecking my cool, destroying my poise, but the old lady is dead to the world, She's stuck in a coma, her sleep won't unfurl while my sensitive ears get destroyed! Despite his diminuative stature, Vigo Itsy was not a one to mess with when irritated. He flung himself from his hiding place and scurried furiously over to the angry Demi-God.	Lanark
Hinenuitepo had an idea. The bane of Pata's husbands existence was his inability to become romantic with his wife without her bursting into fits of giggling and laughter. He would always look forward to spending special evenings with her, and would go to great lengths to plan out elaborate romantic settings. Whether he rented a luxurious penthouse suite overlooking the bay and filled the room with the soft tones of her favorite Maori mating songs, placed hundreds of burning candles all around the bed, spread bouquets of beautiful blooming flowers all around and confections so that the smell of chocolate was in the air, laid out a scentuous array of body oils and comfortable fluffy down pillows, or whether he took her to a quiet place with the sound of running water, sunlight filtering down through the trees, birds chirping from above, a thick homemade quilt laid down on gentle fresh spring grasses, warm air moving just enough to warm their skin and bring them the fragrance of of the cherry blossom trees nearby. The setting didn't matter. He would caress her. Massage her. Recite poems to her. Kiss her passionately. He would look deep into her eyes and say "Pata He kotahi ano te kotahi, a, ko a ia anake.[One is one and all alone.] Kotahi tonu te mahunga o te tangata, kotahi te kaki. [A man has only one head and one neck] A tetahi ra ka hoki mai a ia ki te kainga. [One day he will come home.] Au kai whakarongo atua. [I have listened to God]. Nona Rongo[his message]: Whakapuakina te pono ahua [I speak the truth] Ko Ihowa Ahau, ko tou Atua. [I am the Lord your God.] Ko taku whakahau tenei [This is my commandment] me aroha tetahi ki tetahi [love one another]." Yet the moment he began touch her whakararo Kora [down there] she would start giggling. He would try to ignore it at first, but it would well up inside her and eventually she'd burst into a fit of laughter. Hinenuitepo seized on this experience and began to taunt Pata. Oho! Whakaoho! Panga kai whakararo Kora! [Wake up! Arise! Or I will touch you down there!]	pH

Library | Contents | Next Page