A Chalk Story

Chalk and mystery lumber

A Chalk Story

Privoss Max Ende stayed behind with his medication. There was a tan pill in a small yellow bottle which he kept secured in his blue jean pocket. It was not known which pocket the pill and bottle were kept in. That would be entirely too much of a mystery, distraction and minutia to focus on and disclose at this late hour. It is more important to get on with the situation at hand in order to get the required facts out. Mr. Ende was not well enough to travel. He had already completed his mission. He would avail himself with his multiple talents, in his limited capacity, to the local citizens needs for the time being. The prevailing conditions in the municipality did not call for him to move forward. Bill Pax, his assistant, would also remain behind. He was sick. His condition was grave... In fact fatal. He died later that day of unforeseen complications.

Someone had to go in his place to Fort Ton immediately to secure the heavy lumber there. It was an impossible job at an impossible distance. 45 miles away is simply too far. It might as well be at the other end of the known universe where space and time stop at nothing. I refused to go because of obvious impediments. I'm small, weak, frail, lazy and lack anything resembling ambition. Two large men lifted me off my feet, placed me in the seat of the old van. I feel a conspiracy at hand or is it afoot, awakening in my bones, screaming in my being. The seat had been conveniently made, created, formed, to conform, to accommodate my simple slim body and frame by design. It was a perfect fit. Who could ask for more? They dumped me on the seat and fastened a belt around me for good measure.

Since choice was not an option, I found myself off and running with a total neolithic stranger to some remote part of the world for some absurd reason. I'm sure there would be hills, valleys and curves along the way to fill in the monotony of the day, to satisfy the requirements of nature and landscape but not even a smidgen of consideration for my simple needs. Naturally I prefer doing nothing. Staying at home is my desire, staying in one place, any place other than this. What do I know about lumber?

My partner in crime was a skilled chain smoker, bearded large neanderthal with thick sunglasses. He was middle aged or thereabouts. I tried to imagine him with hair on that cue ball head of his. There must have been hair at one point in his remote past. Perhaps when he was a child he had long curly blonde hair blowing in the wind while he tortured the neighborhood squirrels.

Fort Ton was known for its trees. In fact it was made entirely from the very forest it surrounds. I've never been there. I guess there really is a first time for everything.

My companion; lets call him Burt, is short on conversation. I suspect, shorter on education too, as evidenced by the number of grunts performed over the many miles. He refuses to give me useful information regarding our forthcoming adventure. He chews gum while smoking and hums cowboy tunes. I marvel at his ability to multitask like that with the ever so few brain cells gifted to him by nature, that must be struggling overtime at this moment with enough energy to move those heavy limbs about and for the monumental task of thinking through that mammoth thick rock like skull. That is one head I would hate to be inside or even visit.

I could be sleeping comfortably in my cozy warm bed right now back in the village if I hadn't wandered outside today to buy chalk. I regret that. Didn't I already have enough chalk? What was I thinking?

Back to the lumber; We finally arrived at the fort. It was true. It looked like a disaster had hit. The normally neatly corded, bundled lumber had become undone, displaced, laid strewn all over. Giant naked tree trunks lay in total disarray about the grounds. There must have been a natural disaster, an earthquake perhaps. Big Burt and I could not budge a single log. There were no tools or machinery either to move the monstrous trunks.

Privoss Max Ende will not be happy with our report. In conclusion; According to the van driver, it appeared as though the equipment, including the tractors had been removed or stolen. Mr. Pax had the original inventory. Unfortunately he would not be able to shed light on this matter.

In addition, some strange force of nature must have dislodged all the lumber. Mr. Max Ende paid a lot of money to secure his product, company, assets and holdings. Burt and I could only watch and wonder what had transpired. Before we left I took out a piece of chalk. I can't remember from which pocket. I wrote a message on the front entrance fort wall; “Keep Out” “Beware of Falling Trees”

One might have expected or anticipated this. The van was out of gas. What a surprise. It is a long way back. I placed the chalk back in my pocket and we began to walk. It makes you wonder.

Author's Note

Words to live by: You can never have enough chalk.