The Naked Wangle

22 Sep


mountain stream photo: Silk Stream. Silk_Stream.jpgThe He-Wangle Grogola planned to have a shower.

He took himself to the rocky shelf above a mountain stream that trickled and wriggled musically down the mountainside from the snowy peak – still snowy in June, but then it would be snowy all year round, it always was – stripped off his clothes until he was as naked as the day he’d been born, and stretched under the sun.

“If any She-Wangle comes this way and spots me I’ll be for the high-jump!” he told himself, and giggled. “Never let it be said that a She-Wangle let her eyes fall on my beautifully toned flesh!”

“I’m a She-Wangle,” came a whispery voice from behind the old Oak tree that was already casting a nervous shadow on him.

“Then shut your eyes!” he ordered in the kind of voice that normally demanded instant obedience. “I am a He-Wangle, and I have parts that are forbidden for you to look upon! We’d both be for the pillory if the Lord-Wangle knew you were gazing at my nakedness!”

“I’m not exactly gazing,” sniggered the feminine voice of the She-Wangle, “my eyes might be vaguely pointing at you, but the last thing I want you to think I’m doing is gazing at you! Why, gazing is scarily close to staring, and that’s most impolite!”

“That’s neither here nor there,” grumbled Grogola. “I’m standing right here and feeling naked and you’re hiding behind that tree, and gazing! And I’ve read the Wangle-Texts, all of them, and I know that the most forbidden of all things is for a She-Wangle to let her eyes fall onto the naked flesh of a He-Wangle!”

“This is a public place,” grumbled the She-Wangle, stepping from behind the beautiful old Oak tree. She was a youngish elf dressed in wool from head to foot and with her head totally enshrined in a black cloth scarf wrapped round and round and round, leaving the least of apertures for her eyes to see through.

“Now stop staring…” growled Grogola. “In the village, if I were to kill you dead, they would say I was justified! A She-Wangle able to see the masculine flesh of one such as I!”

“The fat belly, you mean,” she giggled.

“Now that’s quite enough of that sort of talk!” he almost thundered, “I am as the Lord-Wangle made me! I have the beauty of his design and, what’s more, I am planning on having a shower!”

She giggled again. It was possibly the most pleasant sound he had ever heard and he tried to tell himself that it was horrible and that it grated and was truly awful. “I was going to have a shower as well,” she murmured when she had stopped giggling. “I was going to strip myself down to my skin and have a beautiful crystal shower under this mountain stream!”

“No you don’t, then!” he almost exploded. “It is unknown for She-Wangles to shower! The Lord-Wangle wrote it in his great Wangle-Text!”

“Then, in defiance to such trite conventions, I will remove my togs,” she decided. “You can watch if you like, though, to be quite candid, I’d prefer it if you didn’t!”

“And why is that?” he asked, curious.

“Well, and I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but if I am as hard on the eyes as yo are, then it would be quite a cruelty letting you see me naked,” she sniggered, and she started removing her many layers of black woollen cloth.

He stared at her. He couldn’t help it. And when she was totally naked he fell to the ground and ate a dandelion flower-head.

“I abase myself,” he moaned, “I have gazed upon you and I abase myself!”

“Why? Am I that ugly?” she asked, shocked.

“It’s not that. Far from it,” he gurgled, cramming a handful of daisies into his mouth. “I can see you and … and I know … the lies that are told … in the Wangle-Texts, in the Wangle-Sermons … they are all wrong!”

“They are?” She sounded as shocked as she felt.

“Because … you are … there is no doubt…”

“I am? Of what is there no doubt?” she gurgled.

“Perfect,” he sighed. “Beautiful,” he added. “Wangle perfection,” he concluded as he slit his own throat with a shining silver blade he kept in his pocket just in case, as punishment for looking on perfection and not obeying the Wangle-Laws.

And, of course, for not having that shower.

© Peter Rogerson 22.09.14


6 Responses to “The Naked Wangle”

  1. slpsharon September 22, 2014 at 3:23 pm #

    Terrible crime. For shame Peter. You have plainly looked at both.

  2. Peter Rogerson September 22, 2014 at 6:14 pm #

    Possibly, Pam

    • pambrittain September 22, 2014 at 10:27 pm #

      Peter, Sharon’s up there. I’m down here. Maybe it’s you that needed that shower. :-/

      BTW, great story, but what a sad ending (assuming he killed himself dead—you know, to death). :-O

      • pambrittain September 22, 2014 at 10:28 pm #

        Sorry, I meant 😮

  3. Peter Rogerson September 23, 2014 at 8:19 am #

    Ooops – I got muddled. I’m so used to your comments arriving either first or even alone, Pam… Sorry. I may resurrect the scenario in the future. I just like the idea of twisting some of the more absurd things that happen amongst some of us humans and showing the ridiculous underbelly…

    • pambrittain September 24, 2014 at 8:27 pm #

      So, did he kill himself to death?

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