alex.horton@washpost.com
The wind picked up and blew my house away, so I went after it. While searching I met a man who had his wife blown away.
"That's awful" I told him.
"Yeah" he said. "Together we were like fry sauce -- apart we're just mayo and ketchup." "Will you join me and go looking for her?" I asked him.
"Sure, why not?" he said. So we headed West towards the Marmalade Fields until we met a tall woman who lost her child in the wind storm.
"Which way did he go?" we asked her.
"He went straight up for a while and then headed towards the river." she replied. "Join with us, and we'll all go that way to look for him" we offered. She came along with us to the river, and there on the bank was her boy, a little mussed and with twigs in his hair but otherwise just fine. She hugged him and headed back home. I wanted to tell her not to let the boy blow away again, but then thought that might be presumptuous, so in the end I said nothing but waved at her and the boy silently. After they were out of sight my house came floating down the river, so the man who had his wife blown away and I got a rope and pulled it to shore. I decided to leave it right there and live the rest of my life on the river -- a very pleasant prospect for a man who loves to fish as much as I do.
So that left the man whose wife had blown away. I really didn't want to leave my home on the river to help him search anymore, but on the other hand I felt some obligation to do something to help him find her, or at least find closure.
"You could just stay here and I'll fry fish for you" I offered him, not really believing he would settle for that.
"No thank you" he said quietly. "I will never rest until I find my wife." "I will go with you as far as Charing Cross" I offered half-heartedly. I could see the bream and catfish frisking about in the water of the river and yearned deeply to be a-fishing right that instant.
When we got to Charing Cross his wife had already married again and she and her new husband had settled down in the back of a shop that sold brass jar openers and rolls of candy buttons. So the man who had his wife blown away came back with me to my house on the river, where he turned out to be a dab hand at whittling fish lures. So we two scrapped along together for a number of years until another big wind blew the river off course and left us high and dry.
Now we live underground with the gnomes and never worry about the wind anymore. And there are big black dirt fish that I can catch with a rope and crowbar -- they are delicious with fry sauce.
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