Total Turtle Tea Trolley

The Total Turtle Tea Trolley, truth to be told, is bogging down in the paludal regions somewhat to the south of the metmow. The Chief Tea Turtle is directing the Under Tea Turtles in their exertions, all rushing to free one wheel while another wheel sinks deeper. A fresh spring rain is not helping matters; the turtles are, of course, impervious, and the Trolley has been providentially covered with a sturdy oilcloth, but the mud is looking more like quicksand. Already, the wheels are beneath the surface. The Chief Tea Turtle is beginning to worry; they are far from the usual routes of salvific creatures who might otherwise be relied upon to aid them.

The Tea Turtles are further alarmed by the rattling of the earth in slow, steady beats, each beat seeming to settle the Trolley more firmly into the mire. The Under Tea Turtles are giving serious consideration to abandoning their positions and climbing for safety up to the top tier of the Trolley, but a stern rearward look by the Chief Tea Turtle keeps them where they are. In the distance, they can see two green hillocks, which seem to be getting surprisingly close given that the Trolley is not moving at all.

Then, a high squeaky voice rings out through the chattering rain. “Are those snacks for me?” It is coming from the foremost hillock, which, on closer inspection, is none other than Barthelme Brontosaurus; the Tea Turtles quickly deduce that the second hillock can be none other than his wife, Lily. Placid and deliberate, they are often to be found chewing great swaths of rippling giant ferns or nutritious cycads. They often bite off more than they can chew, but other creatures do not mention it. Now, however, they have their eyes on the Tea Treats, and the Tea Turtles, at this point, would gladly sacrifice the entire Trolley. There can be no thought of sacrifice, however. The Brontos are friends of the Chief Tea Turtle, and all is theirs.

Today, the Chief Tea Turtle is wearing a tan microfiber hood and a highly impractical gilded leather dust ruffle. The Under Tea Turtles are wearing grey Helen Kaminski wide-brimmed rain hats and aquamarine ruched muslin dust ruffles. The Tea Treats for today, surely meager by brontosaurus standards but prized nonetheless, include pecan shortbread in the form of seashells, dolmades in lemon sauce, and a pumpkin-honey custard in small ramekins. The tea for today is Huoshan Huangya, in a brown Yixing teapot, which is itself clad in a olive-green pinwale corduroy cozy.

The brontosauruses take their time in savoring the Tea Treats, which is of some concern to the Tea Turtles, as the Trolley is sinking ever deeper. However, after many hints and allusions to their predicament, Barthelme inserts the tip of his tail under the Trolley and pulls upward, freeing it with a great sucking sound. The Tea Turtles clamber aboard Lily’s tail, and to the best of knowledge, the menage is headed towards the Brontosaurus’ house to wait out the rain. Undoubtedly, they will have to try some of Lily’s pickled fern tips, and listen to one of Barthelme’s sixty stories, but such are the perils of reciprocity.

It is necessary to defer today’s Tea Trolley adventure briefly in order to say a few words about rhinoceroses. The Rainocious Rhinoceros, whom we have previously met, is one of the only rhinoceroses in the metmow. For all his ardent running after the Total Turtle Tea Trolley, he is peaceable, kindly, and even avuncular. As is well-known, he is unlike most rhinoceroses, who are truculent, surly, dangerous, and even, at times, vicious. If you get too close to a regular rhinoceros, he is likely to charge you and impale you on one or both of his sharp, keratinous nose horns. The Rainocious Rhinoceros will, when he meets you, take you back to the Cloud Shed for some milk and cookies with his friend and longtime companion, Bernice, the cattle egret. Rainocious rhinoceroses can be born to regular rhinoceroses, but not the other way around, and sometimes, you can have rainocious and regular rhinoceroses as siblings. It is often tragic when this happens, as has happened once or twice in the metmow’s history. Generally, the rainocious rhinoceroses wind up in the metmow, and the regular ones wind up someplace else.

This is exactly what happened with our own Rainocious Rhinoceros. He has a sister, Nola, who is as mean and vicious as he is lovely and sweet-tempered. She lives in a luxurious 12-room two-story postwar penthouse in New York, near the Meatpacking District. There is one meatpacking firm left, for the rest have been gentrified out of existence, and Nola pays its proprietor well to hang up a side of beef, let her run at it a few times and stab it with her nose-horn, and then allow her to eat it in its entirety. Nola worked at first as a bond trader, then as a hedge fund operator, and now as the empress of her own multinational financial entity, which pervades and corrupts everything. She terrified the Merrill Lynch bull, who was sent to cower, bleeding, in a corner of the New York Stock Exchange.  She forced the Bear Stearns bear up a lamppost on Liberty Street, near the Federal Reserve, where he was forced to cling for several hours, hungry and cold, while she paced back and forth beneath. In her penthouse, which has been specially armored and reinforced, she spends her time counting her racks of gold bullion, and plotting how to achieve even vaster riches, global domination, and the destruction of the metmow. She is aided in this by a series of personal assistants, whom she has a peculiar difficulty in selecting, and none of whom last for very long. Her current assistant is Fluffy the Crab, whom she torments by melting butter in a saucepan and sprinkling the air with Old Bay seasoning.

For now, however, most of the metmow does not know of Nola’s existence. The Rainocious Rhinoceros thinks of her sadly, hoping that one day they can be reconciled. But when he gets into that sort of mood, Bernice knows that tea will perk him back up. She will call the Total Turtle Tea Trolley — at such times, the R.R. is too languid to chase it — and they will happily attend to him, for he is one of their favorite clients. The Trolley is on its way!

Today, the Chief Tea Turtle is wearing a Columbia blue velour dust ruffle and a spirographed polyester kipah in green and orange pen. The Under Tea Turtles are wearing yellow and green cotton batik dust ruffles and orange slouch hats. The Tea Treats for today are farmer’s cheese with diced vegetables cut in, Danish Smørrebrød sandwiches with fried plaice, and slices of coconut cream pie. The tea for today is Dragonwell green tea, served in a globular, white Michael Graves kettle designed years before he went downmarket, surrounded by a black tea cozy embroidered with tiny gold lotuses.

The R.R. is most cheered by the appearance of the Tea Trolley, and Bernice helps the Tea Turtles serve him some tea and sandwiches, finished off with several pieces of pie. He begins to hum a tune in his low, pleasant voice: “Aura Lee.” The turtles fill in the missing voice parts, and Bernice tweets a sweet descant above them all. When the song is finished, the R.R. steps to his shelves, and pulls out a volume entitled “An Illustrated History of the Smaller Spring Vegetables.” He presents it to the Chief Tea Turtle, who demurs, but, on learning that it is a duplicate copy from a set the R.R. has comprising the Smaller and Larger Spring Vegetables, accepts it for the Tea Turtle Headquarters Library. The Trolley bid farewell to Bernice and the R.R., pleased that they have helped the former and restored the latter to happiness.

It is early morning, and the Total Turtle Tea Trolley is floating across the bay just off the coast of the metmow. It is safely lodged, wheels locked, on the deck of the Quenelle, a 48-foot sailboat. The Under-Tea Turtles are busy tending to the sails and rigging, while the Chief Tea Turtle peers through a brass telescope. The Chief Tea Turtle is looking for Albert and Mabel, the right whales, and their sons, Hawthorne and Melville. The Turtles bring tea and treats, and although these things are imperceptibly small to whales, they hope at the very least to give the whales some company. When the whales pass from metmow waters into international waters, they are beset with a buzzing noise from the engines of ships and the low frequency bursts of submarines. As such, they cannot talk to their fellow whales across the seas; where they swim, there is not even any cell coverage. So the Turtles come every so often and tell the whales what is happening in the metmow — the births and marriages, the festivals and celebrations, and the ordinary lives of creatures. The whales are very grateful, and in turn relate what is happening in their realm.

Today, as might be expected, the Chief Tea Turtle is wearing a nautical ensemble — a white captain’s cap with gold braid and a similarly embellished dark blue wool dust ruffle. The Under Tea Turtles are wearing navy blue watch caps and white cotton dust ruffles with signaling flags around their circumference spelling out Tango-Uniform-Romeo-Tango-Lima-Echo.

Tea Turtle Nautical Flags

The whales have been sighted and signaled, and two of the Under Tea Turtles prepare to cast the delicacies overboard on small dinghies. The Treats for today include a krill paté, brine shrimp in their own broth, and plankton on toast, together with apricot upside-down cake. The tea for today is Good Earth Original Decaffeinated, made in bulk and contained in a 50-gallon jade-colored lacquer urn, itself covered with a yellow inflatable rubber cozy which doubles as a flotation device.

Hawthorne is getting ready for school; Melville is too young. Hawthorne is prevailing on their friends, the sea urchins, to come to school with them, which the urchins, being urchins, do not want to do. Hawthorne begins to read to them from their reader — a story about Old England — and the urchins cease their quivering about and listen intently. But Hawthorne breaks off the story, and says that he will only finish it if they come to school. The urchins grumble, but they will in all likelihood show up.

Albert recently received an alarming visit from another whale, who told him that Japanese whalers are going to be offering a new product: “Albert in a can.” But no whaling vessels can come into the metmow’s waters, and the Tea Turtles reassure him of this. Besides, on reflection, Albert thinks it unlikely that the whalers would care to construct such a large can, and, in any rate, the other whale must have meant something else, for why would the whalers market a product of which there could be only one?

At last, the Tea Turtles sail off, and, with any luck, they will be back on land with their Trolley before noon.

Water is running over the pebbly path in thin, foam-edged streams as the Total Turtle Tea Trolley makes its way forward through the rain. The Tea Turtles are, of course, amphibious, and water runs off their shells and down their hunter-green waterproof duck dust ruffles. The Tea Trolley is protected by a towering yellow-and-white striped golf umbrella, the tips of its ribs secured to the Trolley by thin monofilament guylines, and the water rolls off it in great sheets.

The Trolley is headed towards the pond, but the Chief Tea Turtle knows that there is no one there. Rather, the Chief Tea Turtle hopes to be discovered on the way, by the creature known as the Rainocious Rhinoceros. On a rainy day, the RR will lie in wait for the Trolley, and ambush it. At the very least, he will chase it, and the Trolley will accelerate as quickly as the Under Tea Turtles’ little legs will allow. But at a certain stage, they will slow down, allow the Trolley to be caught, and all will share in the tea and treats. It is a dance that has gone on as long as there have been rhinoceroses in the metmow, and the participants would no sooner make an appointment to have tea than throw a chess game in two moves by fool’s mate. Quite simply, it would not be fun.

Today, the Trolley is carrying a silver salver with devilled eggs made with Durkee’s Dressing and Hungarian paprika, golden-brown palmiers, whitefish salad, and a salad of chopped tomato, parsley, and minced Sevillano olives. The tea is a malty pure Assam, in a sun-yellow pinch-neck teapot with a craquelure glaze, enclosed in an insulated reflective aluminized tea cosy.

From behind a tree, the Rainocious Rhinoceros charges. “Come back, my plated friends!” he cries. The Trolley speeds up, the Chief Tea Turtle ahead of the Trolley by two lengths, his legs a blur. The Chief Tea Turtle is exhilarated, his little heart close to bursting, until he hears the cries of the Under Tea Turtles and knows that the rhino is closing fast. Suddenly, the rhino bursts from behind him, spins around, and blocks the path. The Chief Tea Turtle stops, and collapses onto his knees, He can hear the Trolley slipping and  shuddering to a halt behind him. And the Rainocious Rhinoceros, directly in front of him, smiles, and asks, “Might I have some tea?”

The Total Turtle Tea Trolley jounces along the forest floor, its wheels sometimes spinning with some futility against the carpet of decaying leaves. Thomas Sluggovich, their gastropod friend, has, once again, failed to eat away a clear path for them. He’ll have to get to work before the new crop of leaves descends in the fall. But the Chief Tea Turtle urges the Trolley onward. Today, they are delivering treats to their friend, Pinchas “Piney” Salzman. Piney is is a small but muscular man in his fifties, always to be found in one of his many plaid shirts, who has lived in these woods since he came to the metmow after an unsuccessful career as a matchmaker. Now, he makes things out of wood, and his workshop is crammed full of lathes and compressors and dust collectors and router tables and table saws and drill presses. He makes chairs, cabinets, and tables, but what he likes to make best of all are barrels — magic barrels — for which he is famed far and wide. If you reach into a magic barrel, you may come out with a map, a letter, or a photograph of your sweetheart.

Today, in honor of Piney, the Tea Turtles are clad in plaid flannel dust ruffles — Dress Gordon for the Chief Tea Turtle, and Black Watch for the Under Tea Turtles. The Chief Tea Turtle is wearing a marled grey tweed riding cap, while the Under Tea Turtles are sporting raven blue 1948 New York Black Yankees baseball caps. The Tea Treats for today include chocolate chip macaroons, fruit jellies in a variety of hues, Tam-Tam crackers, vegetarian chopped liver, and quartered pickled tomatoes. The tea is an aged, smokey Himalayan blend, served in a mint green enamel Farberware teapot (made by Eliezer Farber himself!), which is in turn tucked into a brown narrow-wale corduroy tea cozy.

The Trolley has surprised Piney as he is gluing up a frame for a cabinet. He has just finished putting the fortieth clamp on the glue-up, and, as the Trolley enters his workshop, exclaims with pride, “That’s not going anywhere!” The Turtles nod politely, as they know the fascination Piney has in fastening things. But, a minute later, he wrenches his attention away from the drying assembly and faces the Tea Trolley head on. The lemon fruit jellies disappear from the plate, and soon Tam-Tams are loaded high with the chopped liver and vanish as well. Before long, the Trolley is empty save for the plates, cups, saucers, teapot, and tea cozy. By way of thanks, Piney turns one of his magic barrels on its side and tips the lip to the ground, inviting the Chief Tea Turtle to take something out. The Chief Tea Turtle ventures into the barrel, and returns with… a hi-bounce ball!  The Turtles and Trolley depart with some amusement, leaving Piney alone to happily watch the glue dry.

It is the first day of spring. Along a seacoast adjacent to the metmow, the Tea Turtles are pushing the Total Turtle Tea Trolley. It is rough going, to be sure, for the wheels of the trolley have become caked with wet sand, but the turtles are inexorable. They are heading for the breeding grounds of the winged turtles known as Urtleopts, their relations, and they hope that they can get there timely. Today, the Urtleopts’ eggs are to hatch. Throughout the period leading up to Hatching Day, the Tea Turtles have been supplying the mothers-to-be with Ba-Tampte half-sour pickles and half-gallon tubs of gelato, packed in layers of bubble wrap and parachuted down from the high, rocky cliffs above the beach. But now, the Trolley itself must appear.

The Chief Tea Turtle is dressed in a khaki oilcloth dust ruffle, and on his head sits a blue and teal argyle watchman’s cap. The Under Tea Turtles are wearing yellow rubberized dust ruffles with toggles down the sides, and hoods of a like construction and character. Today the Trolley is bearing pieces of a rich, yellow sheet cake, made with butter and not shortening, frosted in stiffly-beaten whipped cream and adorned with pink and blue buttercream rosettes. In addition, the upper tray of the Trolley is stacked high with numerous boxes of chocolate pipes and cigars, all securely lashed down. The tea today is a cinnamon spice tea, held in a Delft teapot adorned with scenes of bagel-baking, which is itself enclosed in a Mario Buatta chintz tea cozy.

At long last, after bumping over many rocks and shells, and, for a time, being entangled in masses of bladdery seaweed, the Turtles spot an enormous aggregation of Urtleopts very near the water. All are looking intently down at the ground, completely silent, watching for the slightest movement from the clutches of eggs. The Tea Turtles quicken their pace, and are nearly at the edge of the assembled Urtleopts, when they hear the piping cry of the first-born Urtleopt. “Joy!”, it chirps. Within second, other eggs are hatching, and with the bursting of each egg, the tiny Urtleopt inside cries “Joy!” Like a pan of popcorn which has been heated on the stove, and whose kernels pop slowly at first, then all in a great rush, the clutches of eggs explode with tiny Urtleopts, and their happy peals, though faint, fill the air. As is the custom, the Urtleopts name their young as soon as they are born. “Primo!” “Terry!” “Cholmondely!” “Frieda!” The Chief Tea Turtle and Under Tea Turtles cannot help but be moved, and they remain, still and solemn as stones, beside their Trolley. When all have been born, the Urtleopts look up and see the Tea Turtles, and with their young, they line up for tea and cake.

[Welcome. This entry will always be on top. New entries begin below.]

The meadow, or “metmow” in the dialect of its inhabitants, is a peaceful, pastoral place, filled with imaginary animals, tied only loosely to our own world. As with many pastoral places, there is little strife, or want, or unhappiness. This would seem to make the metmow unsuitable for stories. Stories require trouble, conflict, risk. Somehow, the creatures of the metmow live without very much of these things. They do have needs, however, and one of their main needs is for a regular and reliable source of snacks. In the distant past, snacks for all but the very young were the province of the Amalgamated Meal and Snack Bunnies. Now, however, their duties have been assumed by the organization known as the Total Turtle Tea Trolley. Led by a Chief Tea Turtle, six Under Tea Turtles push the silver, wheeled trolley, laden with tea and snacks, wherever hungry creatures are to be found. This blog will describe their appearances — what they wear, and what treats they convey. At times, other metmow creatures will appear.

Whether these accounts will surprise and delight the reader is a matter of conjecture, but they have pleased certain small audiences. If they bore, seem twee, or tire, all that will happen is that they remain in obscurity. If they please, I would be happy to know of it.

I remain, the Chronicler of the Total Turtle Tea Trolley.