The Curse Of Buffoonery
T’was dusk of Solstice, and winter had been announced. The King and Queen, their voices crisp and clear, gave their usual speech concerning the approaching Christmas Eve. The people of Buffoonery, now in costume as mimes, clowns, harlequins, and puppets, stood around the Yule tree, waiting for the Willow Witch to come along and with her wand, set the tree alight with red, green, and white. They anticipated the trinket elves to come to life, dancing in the branches, and of course, wake up the little bells so that when they rang, Christmas cheer would abound.
But as the sun set, no Willow Witch came. Instead, it was Wallace The Wicked, the kingdom’s angry magician who appeared with the Willow Witch’s wand in hand. He stood before the crowd, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he brandished the stolen wand. “I have turned your witch to stone,” he declared, his voice echoing through the silent square. The crowd gasped, their painted faces reflecting the glow of the wand.
The King and Queen, frozen on their thrones, could only watch in despair as Wallace The Wicked reveled in his newfound power. The once joyous Yule tree stood dark and lifeless, its branches devoid of the trinket elves’ dance and the merry jingle of the bells.
In the midst of the stunned crowd, Bollix The Absurd, the kingdom’s jester, watched with a determined glint in his eyes. He knew what he had to do. The quest to retrieve the wand and return it to the Willow Witch had begun. His journey, filled with absurdity and ridiculousness, was the kingdom’s only hope to restore laughter and joy to Buffoonery. And so, the satirical tragomedy of Bollix began and The absurd unfolded under the winter sky.
And with a wave of the wand Wallace the Wicked turn phrase and all the people became the costumes they wore, except Bollix who stepped quickly into the shadow of the Christmas tree then fled to the witch’s cottage.
Indeed she had been turned to stone but she managed to talk to Bollix with her thoughts. “Bring me back my wand and all will be well and then I will deal with Wallace the Wicked and banish him to the empty well. But you must save me before the strike of midnight on Christmas eve.
Bollix, who was really born to be a hero, just the court jester considered what he should do. I took some time because it was his nature as a jester to foolish and absurd and jingle the bells on his hat and toes. But as he thought of these things the little spark of wisdom he did possess rippled in and he decided that since the kingdom had become their costume his best disguise was his costume. And yes he could act like he should and keep his lips tight closed because he saw at once when the spell was cast that all the people became mute.
So back to the castle he snuck and found his way to the tree but when he arrived all the people had gone to bed and his bells tinkled in the silence. “A dangerous thing I think>” he thought, wise not speak, and quickly wrapped his bells in cloth to silence them.
“But where now should I find Wallace the Wicked?”
Bollix was about to go searching but when he looked to the window of the bell tower he saw a light and then a howl of joy and a second later bats galore flew out the window.
“Bats. Bats. How I do love you my darlings. Come back when the dawn fades the night and sleep her in your hanging beds. I silence the clock and the bells for you so you will not be disturbed.”
Huge black bats with flaming red eyes clouded the sky and went berserk feeding on the night swallows who fled for their lives and most escaped but not all and the bats screamed in anger and that was frightening as you would know if you ever heard a swarm of bats scream.
Bollix wandered silently trying to come up with a plan until he found himself hiding in the shadows of the throne room and their stood their majesties
The King and Queen, once the very soul of the kingdom, stand frozen as mannequins atop their thrones, their regal voices hijacked by the strings of the malevolent Magician. This sinister sorcerer, wielding a wand of stolen power, orchestrates a tyranny of ventriloquism, bending the will of the monarchs to his whims.
Bollix, armed with wit sharper than any sword new he was embarking on a quest most absurd. To outfox the Magician—a foe whose madness masks a mind most cunning—Bollix knew he had to delve into the heart of folly itself, his journey fraught with riddles wrapped in enigmas, where the answer to each is a jest, and every jest, a clue.
And then he heard a voice in his mind, T’ was the witch herself blending an incantation for courage and though some of what she spoke seemed absurd the rest weld in Bollix’s heart strong and true
In the heart of Buffoonery, where laughter once reigned,
Now silence pervades, and freedom's restrained.
The Magician's wand, with power untold,
Turned the Willow Witch to stone, so cold.
Bollix The Absurd, with a cap and a bell,
Must break the spell, with a story to tell.
Through a circus of silence and a masquerade ball,
He'll reclaim the wand and save them all.
The King and Queen, mere puppets on strings,
Speak not their words, but those of a thing.
With every step, Bollix draws near,
To the wand, the witch, and the end of fear.
For in his heart, he knows the truth,
That laughter and courage are the fount of youth.
And with a jest, a jape, and a jolly good trick,
He'll restore the kingdom, quick as a click.
And then as the witch’s voice faded in his mind that of Wallace the Wicked echoed eerily across the throne room, bouncing in echoes from the ceiling. At last I have my due. The kingdom is mine. And you my puppet King and Queen shall speak the words I command and say no more and say no less
And in their loudest and most regal voices they repeated the words and they rang out like frozen angry bells, , “People Of Buffoonery Now you Bow to the real master of this land Wallace the magician.”
And just then then dawn came and the people now their costumes rushed into the streets silently bowing to Wallace now standing on the steps of the palace, a most absurd and ridiculous sight.
And the bats, scream of sleep flew into the tower to hang from the rafters til night called them awake.
For the moment all Bollix could do was watch and bow but as he watched his eyes were fixed on Willow the Witch’s wand hanging on a chain from the magicians belt, swinging freely as he waved at the people delighted in their bows and silence. How he hated their happy chortles.
“Dance now my puppet subjects. Dance like fools in your silence an stop not until I command you” Wallace ordered then turned away laughing in went into the palace.
“Fools.” His voice trumpeted just before the doors closed.
Bollix danced until the Magician was gone then set off with the first inkling of a plan brewing in his mind.
I must be part ghost and walk in silence. It will only take a second to snatch the wand and run, run like the demons of the under world wanted my soul and lay the wand in the witch’s hand.”
But some things are easier spoken than done and even though Bollix was able to creep up very close he was betrayed by his own foot. A bell had worked loose from its clothe and tinkled just as the jester was reaching for the wand.
Wallace spun around startled and angry all at once and fumbled for the wand, but his hands shook and his finger wouldn’t close around the stem.
“Go quickly, Bollix. I cannot hold him long. He has the wand and though not in his hand he can use its power to overcome me.”
Bollix jumped forward and grabbed the wand but Wallace’s fingers closed on it at the very same time.
But then Bollix had a brilliant thought. “Wallace hates merry and my bells are merry things for sure.”
So he kept one hand gripped to the wand and with the other undid all the bells on his hat and toes and jingled them merrily until Wallace let go of the wand and cupped his ears to block the noise. “I hate merry.” He screamed but realized he had goofed as he watch Bollix run out from the palace.
And there under the darkness just minutes before the strike of Christmas eve Bollix laid the wand in the witch’s stone cold hand. But it stayed cold no longer and with a wave of the twig they were both standing by the empty well and Wallace fell into the depths.
The Kingdom of Buffoonery was saved. And the jester Bollix an unexpected hero. Whose jokes and jests there ever after were the funniest things in the kingdom for the witch blessed with a true and real funny bone.
The end.
