A White Banquet

As soon as I woke up, everything happened very quickly. The funny dwarves have dragged us into their underground palace which they call Moria. There, bearded female-dwarves like their husbands washed us, powdered our faces and put white clothes on us that fit us like a glove. It would have been better they fit us like clothes.

Nina the Female Dwarf tickles my hair and treats me fine. While combing my white hair that she dyed just before, Nina confides in me. “You and your friends are so lucky guys, due in time, tonight all right! What a piece of happiness you get! Starting at evening for eight days, grand opening of the annual Great White Week. It’s beginning right now, my oh my, really bright!

Every year, what a piece of job we got, taking out the pots, stirring the lime, painting in time from floor to ceiling, everyone, everything. My oh my, really too insane it is, too delusional, oh la la la la, don’t say a word, but please keep on talking silently to me, oh my, all the time, louder, keep silent, talk to me, my oh my! The Great Week of the White! My mom ! Think so! Unthinkable thing it is! Think about it. Yes oh my, think how unthinkable it is.”

What a breath! I think about it, but I do not know what. Such a flow she gets, what a patter, what a voice! I feel like I’m under a hair dryer, but not at all, it’s the powerful flow of Mina’s speech that drives me. And who’s mine? I would like it to stop.

I would like her to stop curling my hair. But here she is again: “What a good piece of luck you have! We washed you well, well drooled, well cooled, you’re as white as white snow! I say that by saying, oh yes, I have never seen any snow. Neither white nor beige-white, pulling on the greige when the mud gets involved, isn’t it beautiful! Drives me fool! When taking some in the face, it’s ice-cold, my good mum, oh my. I’ve never seen it for real, but in a dream some of us did, they found it hallucinating, demented, breathtaking, emberlificant, yes oh my, I’m telling you as I was told.”

Help ! If only Amyann could come to save me, as he used to. But my dear friend is caught in the nets of another hairdresser, Three-Apples the Nun, who will not let go of the piece before it is white like a sink. The Great Week of the White! I will not care! All I want to know is the why of all history. Why is my arm healed? Why am I no longer asleep? Why did the dwarves get angry? Why did they kidnap me when I slept? Why did they throw me into the lava hole? Why am I not dead? Why did the dwarves play big guys? Why did they become cool?

I escape from the legs of my hairdresser. “But I did not finish you! Come back here! Oh my!” I tear myself away from sticky Nina the Sucker. I explore. I stagger. A lot of things happen that I give up describing. White peas and other things. Timely ideas. Untimely meetings. Flashes and dashes, white rice and ray and … a nice way to go on the journey! I find a wheeling machine that can pass everywhere. A bus of dwarves, a mini bus, but I’m not so big as a misfit, it will fit. Get on the line. It will be fine. No mess. I guess.

 

 

What a sad party! If it was a fairy tale, I would blame the fairies. Now it’s life size. Mine and Amyann’s. My dear friend comes to me, white as innocence, handsome as his feathered hat. White peacock feather he wears. He drives me away. He knows the program. “The Yellow Dwarf, King of the Dwarves, Lord of Moria, is coming at noon and soon will make a white speech. We’ll know everything. All he’ll clearing. Just listen. Truth will come.

What is a white speech? What truth should one listen to? If it was a fairy tale, I would blame the fairies. But it’s the true life. Mine and Amyann’s. He comes to me, white as innocent, handsome as his feathered hat. White peacock. I escape from the legs of my hairdresser. “Yet I did not finish you! By here! Oh my!

Amyann drives me away. He knows the program. The Yellow Dwarf, king of Moria, gonna make a white speeching. So we’ll know everything. Just keep on listening. Truth is coming.

Suddenly everyone sits down. Amyann and I have no more room at the table. All the chairs are occupied by white dwarfs powdered to the teeth, which conspire and hunt us. “Sitting asses, respect etiquette! The Mighty King is coming, sit down, show respect! Sit! Sit down your asses!” Whistles, jeers, dwarven children throwing mini toys. Well, since we have to sit down, let’s do it on the floor. The Yellow Dwarf appears, and immediately, he claims the hubbub. “He’s going to talk, let’s cover up his voice, respect the Royal etiquette, follow the custom, let’s bray louder than he does!

Lost punishment. The Yellow Dwarf howls so loudly that no noise can dominate his powerful organ. You can hear everything even by plugging your ears. It’s crazy. “My oh my, it’s too insane, and so powerful, powerful, powerful!” Mina breath rolled.

Gradually, breathless, out of breath, the white public marks a white stop. When the silence finally extends, the king also marks the step. His stentor’s voice is nothing more than a golden thread. We all fall dead. And in a white dream, we saw everything. All is clear. All is dear.

The dwarves gave us a show. They have never been angry, they were expecting guests, it is important, the white is white and each time the year is too disturbing. They pretended almost everything, except they threw me in a hole. A white wormhole makes the whole world change. Once inside, start a ride, lit a light, become white. The fire extinguishes, the black is fading away, and the colors no longer on record. I did not get it well. Did I fell on a well? They’re serving wine. White. With yogurts and white bread. White cheese in a breeze. Chicken breast to rest in white sauce, egg whites, white lights.

The dwarves are exhausting. White is sobering. The banquet drags on. I sweat in my shirt. I smell dirt. These fucking whites are stacking. My glass is brittle white. Jabbering children are such a drag too. It’s squeaky. It screams and it squeals, it screams and is worth to go to bed. My aching head. I feel dizzy. I am sleepy. This is too much. Amyann is on the back, overwhelmed, almost dead. He casts a worried eye.

I have to reassure him, I relied too much on him, in turn he can rely on me. Gently I take him in my arms. “Don’t worry, Amyann dear, don’t be sorry. I’ve found a trick. Willy-nilly we’re gonna get a Dwarf-bus that can pass through matter and rock, what a shock,  what a deal, my brother dear, the Earth Core is at hand. Forget this numb banquet for dumb puppet. Let’s lie on the floor to sleep.

Oh shit! He sleeps deep.

 

 

 

We are all visitors of this time, of this place. We are only crossing them. Our goal here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love … After which we go home.
Aboriginal wisdom