Post by Editor in Chief on May 25, 2008 3:39:33 GMT
Djuvie was a poor, uneducated boy, born on the wrong side of the Djel. One day when Djuvie and his life-long friend Ptastie were about ten years old, they were walking along the docks.
Djuvie said, "Hey Ptastie, let's go throw rocks at the croccodiles today."
Ptastie frowned. "That's kid stuff. We should do something more fun."
Djuvie was interested. "Like what, Ptastie?"
Ptastie responded, "We can go hang out with those older boys. Maybe we can impress them and we will be cool like them."
Djuvie thought this was a stupid plan, but did not want to offend his good friend. "Alright then. We can run away if they decide we look like croccodiles that need to be stoned."
Djuvie and Ptastie sauntered over to the older boys, where they were leaning against a tavern wall and discussing crude things.
The largest boy looked down at them. "What have we here? It's a couple of baby croccodiles!"
The big boys bent down to gather some rocks, and Djuvie started to sidle away unobtrusively.
Ptastie stood his ground, however. "Hey, we're not crocs! We want to get in on the action. We're older than we look."
The largest boy grinned. "Sure you are, croc-baby! What's your name, anyhow?"
Ptastie relaxed marginally. "Ptastie Ptreat. This is my friend, Djuvie."
The largest boy laughed. "Djuvie, huh. No last name? You a bastard, Djuvie?"
Djuvie looked down at the dock. "Yeah. Dad don't know who my mum was."
The largest boy patted Djuvie on the shoulder. "Hey, I know how it is. I was a little scrub like you once. Okay then, you croc-babies can join us if you prove you're worthy. You each need to steal a ptascp from a child and bring them to me."
Djuvie gasped, "But that's illegal!"
Ptastie kicked Djuvie, and said hastily, "We'll do it! We can do it, we'll be right back," and dragged Djuvie away.
As Ptastie and Djuvie walked toward the Bazaar, Ptastie scolwed at Djuvie. "Why'd you have to go and be a croc-baby? Now they think we're both croc-babies! Let's get the ptascpi from some little kids and get back before the big kids change their minds."
Djuvie sighed. "This just doesn't seem right. But if you're sure it's alright ... "
"I am!" Ptastie exclaimed. "Look! There's a little brat now. You keep an eye out while I grab one of her ptascpi."
Djuvie stood back and watched unhappily as Ptastie sauntered up to the little girl.
Ptastie grabbed the girl's hair, pried a ptaspc out of her hand as she started to howl, and shoved her to the ground.
"Quick," Ptastie shouted over to Djuvie. "We gotta run before the priests - erk!"
As Djuvie watched, frozen to the spot, a gaggle of priests seemed to materialise around Ptastie! The priests lifted Ptastie above their heads, as he kicked and screamed ineffectively. They strode quickly to the bank of the river, and threw Ptastie Ptreat to his grisly, bone-crunching, marrow-sucking death at the claws and teeth of the sacred croccodiles of the Djel!
Djuvie staggered home, stunned and weeping at the death of his friend.
"That could have been me," he whispered. "I'll never be bad again, I swear it. I'll find a proper job and stop being a burden on the fair city of Djelibeybi!"
-----
The next morning, Djuvie stared at the single dried fig he was given for breakfast, without the appetite to eat it. "Dad," he asked, "what jobs can I do?"
His dad frowned. "You don't need a job, Djuvie! We suckle from the teat of Djelibeybi without permission. Work is for suckers, not sucklers!"
Djuvie sighed, and wandered out of the hovel and toward the Bazaar.
Djuvie spoke to the merchants to ask for a job, but they spat at him and chased him off, knowing him to be good-for-nothing.
He left the Bazaar and wandered the streets. Exhausted as night drew near, he dropped to the ground and sat, leaning against a building.
"Blessed Hat, please lead me to a worthy occupation. I do not care how hard I must work, I will put my entire body and mind into it!" Djuvie looked up then, at a small shop across the street. He stood up and walked in, staring at the tools neatly lined up, entranced as they sparkled in the lamplight.
"Please, honorable merchant. How much is that one?" Djuvie asked, pointing to a tool.
The shopkeeper peered at the tool. "That one is 4 tooni."
"How many ptascpi is that?" asked Djuvie.
The shopkeeper laughed. "400. More than you can afford, gutter brat!"
Djuvie nodded politely and left the shop. As he walked home, he thought hard. When he reached the spot on the bank of Djel River where Ptastie had died the day before, he stopped, and stared up at the stars glowing brightly above him.
"I'll do it, Ptastie, for your memory and what you could have been if you weren't so worthless. I'll save up and buy it, then I can have a real job and be a benefit to society!"
Djuvie started walking again toward his hovel, smiling despite the tears in his eyes.
-----
The next morning, Djuvie gulped down his fig and dashed out the door. Instead of going to drop rocks on sacred croccodiles or lounging around while trying looking as intimidating as an underfed 10 year old boy can, he made his way quickly to a ship that had just docked.
"Greetings, Comrade Sailor!" Djuvie squeaked nervously. "I will help to unload your goods for a ptascp."
The sailor pondered. "Alright then, have at it lad."
"Thank you, Comrade Sailor!" Djuvie exclaimed.
Djuvie spent the rest of the day carrying boxes off of the ship and onto the dock, some nearly as big and as heavy as he was! He did not complain though, but continued to work industriously for the entire day, ignoring the pain and weaknesses of his body as he toiled.
When the ship was finally unloaded, the sailor handed Djuvie his hard-earned ptascpi, and tipped his jaunty hat at the boy soberly. "I will tell the other sailors that you are a hard worker. Perhaps they will have jobs for you too."
"Thank you, Comrade Sailor!" Djuvie exclaimed, though he barely had the strength left to speak.
Djuvie staggered home, and barely managed to fall onto his pile of sand before falling into a deep sleep.
-----
After eating his morning fig the next day, Djuvie again went down to the docks, and true to his word the Sailor had spread word of Djuvie's hard work. Djuvie found a ship willing to hire him to unload almost immediately, and went to work.
The next day, and the next, he did the same. For an entire year, he went each day to work hard at the docks, and each day he earned another ptascpi.
Eventually, Djuvie had 400 ptascpi hidden under the pile of sand that he slept on in his hovel.
After counting them carefully, Djuvied tied them in a scrap of cloth, and trudged slowly into the heart of Djelibeybi, weighed down by the many coins.
He made his way back to the tool shop, and walked in the door.
The shopkeeper frowned at him. "You're back? I thought I told you it's 400 ptascpi!"
Djuvie nodded politely. "Yes, Comrade Shopkeeper," he said, and put the cloth holding his ptascpi on the counter. He opened it, and the ptascpi sparkled in the light.
The shopkeeper gasped. "Perhaps you will make something of yourself after all, lad. You still want the same item you looked at a year ago?"
"Yes, Comrade Shopkeeper," Djuvie said politely.
The shopkeeper handed over the tool, and Djuvie left the shop to begin his new life.
-----
But first, he had to practice. After all, he reasoned, he couldn't expect to get a job just becaue he had a tool. He had to learn to use it, perhaps even to master it, before he would be good enough to be paid for using it.
Djuvie nodded resolutely to himself, and went out in search of work on which he could practice learning his tool.
For another year, he did this each day: wandering the city to practice the trade that would some day be his.
-----
When a year had passed, and Djuvie was now twelve years old, he decided it was time to seek employment. Carrying his tool, clean and shining in the morning sun, Djuvie made his way to the palace, where workers were interviewed for manual jobs.
"Name!" barked an official when Djuvie made his way to the front of the line.
"Djuvie, Comrade Official," Djuvie said, his voice no longer squeaking as it had when he was younger and nervous.
"Hah! No last name? Don't know who your father is I bet!" the official exclaimed.
"I know who my dad is, but I don't know who my mum is. My dad says it might've been several women," Djuvie confessed, his eyes downcast.
The official started at Djuvie. "Errr, right. Well, we don't have bastards working here!"
Djuvie sighed, and walked away. As he walked, he considered his options. Maybe his father was right, and he shouldn't bother with trying to have a real job. No, he told himself, he could do better than that. He wouldn't give up!
Djuvie went back to walking the streets, and practicing even harder with his tool, through all the heat of the day. For another year, he did this, determination staying with him\ always.
-----
Eventually, the season of Innundation approached, to find Djuvie still hard at work, mastering his tool. Early one morning, while the sky was still black before turning to grey with the dawn, the soft patter of rain on Djuvie's hovel was interrupted by a *THUD* directly overhead. Another soon followed, then a third, and a fourth! Soon, the sound of rain was overcome with the sound of *THUDS* hitting the rooves of the buildings in Djelibeybi.
Djuvie got up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and went outside.
*THUD*
Djuvie screamed as something heavy and furry landed on his head. It yowled and lept off his head, leaving him with scratch marks.
A cat!
Djuvie peered into the pre-dawn gloom, and saw more cats falling from the heavens. A rain of sacred cats!
Djuvie ran back into the hovel and grabbed his tool. On second thought, he grabbed a rag as well and wrapped it securely around his head, then bravely ventured into the rain of cats.
Djuvie dashed up and down the streets of Djelibeybi as the cats fell and fell, all through the day. He weilded his tool so expertly that it seemed to have a life of its own, as it dipped to the ground time and time again. As the day went on, other men with similar tools joined his efforts, though none moved so swiftly or with such deftness as they worked. They watched in awe as Djuvie's efforts far outstripped their own, as he kept working and working after they fell victim to exhaustion.
The rain of sacred cats finally ceased, and Djuvie found himself swept by his comrades back to their office in the Palace.
"Comrade, why are you not one of us, working with us instead of on your own?" asked one.
"Ah," Djuvie said, "I was not allowed to work for the Great City of Djelibeybi because I am but a lowly bastard."
"Well you have proven your worth, despite your bastardity!" they exclaimed. "You are one of us now, and you will work with us and share the same honour that we all do for our work! You will be paid 2 talona per week, just like us!"
Djuvie laughed with joy, his tears mixing with the rain drops still on his face. "Thank you, Comrades! Thank you all!"
"You deserve it, Djuvie, for working so hard for so long with no hope of reward!" they responded.
And so Djuvie turned from his life of povery and theft to a new life of honour as a Collector of Sacred Cat Droppings for the Great City of Djelibeybi.
Djuvie said, "Hey Ptastie, let's go throw rocks at the croccodiles today."
Ptastie frowned. "That's kid stuff. We should do something more fun."
Djuvie was interested. "Like what, Ptastie?"
Ptastie responded, "We can go hang out with those older boys. Maybe we can impress them and we will be cool like them."
Djuvie thought this was a stupid plan, but did not want to offend his good friend. "Alright then. We can run away if they decide we look like croccodiles that need to be stoned."
Djuvie and Ptastie sauntered over to the older boys, where they were leaning against a tavern wall and discussing crude things.
The largest boy looked down at them. "What have we here? It's a couple of baby croccodiles!"
The big boys bent down to gather some rocks, and Djuvie started to sidle away unobtrusively.
Ptastie stood his ground, however. "Hey, we're not crocs! We want to get in on the action. We're older than we look."
The largest boy grinned. "Sure you are, croc-baby! What's your name, anyhow?"
Ptastie relaxed marginally. "Ptastie Ptreat. This is my friend, Djuvie."
The largest boy laughed. "Djuvie, huh. No last name? You a bastard, Djuvie?"
Djuvie looked down at the dock. "Yeah. Dad don't know who my mum was."
The largest boy patted Djuvie on the shoulder. "Hey, I know how it is. I was a little scrub like you once. Okay then, you croc-babies can join us if you prove you're worthy. You each need to steal a ptascp from a child and bring them to me."
Djuvie gasped, "But that's illegal!"
Ptastie kicked Djuvie, and said hastily, "We'll do it! We can do it, we'll be right back," and dragged Djuvie away.
As Ptastie and Djuvie walked toward the Bazaar, Ptastie scolwed at Djuvie. "Why'd you have to go and be a croc-baby? Now they think we're both croc-babies! Let's get the ptascpi from some little kids and get back before the big kids change their minds."
Djuvie sighed. "This just doesn't seem right. But if you're sure it's alright ... "
"I am!" Ptastie exclaimed. "Look! There's a little brat now. You keep an eye out while I grab one of her ptascpi."
Djuvie stood back and watched unhappily as Ptastie sauntered up to the little girl.
Ptastie grabbed the girl's hair, pried a ptaspc out of her hand as she started to howl, and shoved her to the ground.
"Quick," Ptastie shouted over to Djuvie. "We gotta run before the priests - erk!"
As Djuvie watched, frozen to the spot, a gaggle of priests seemed to materialise around Ptastie! The priests lifted Ptastie above their heads, as he kicked and screamed ineffectively. They strode quickly to the bank of the river, and threw Ptastie Ptreat to his grisly, bone-crunching, marrow-sucking death at the claws and teeth of the sacred croccodiles of the Djel!
Djuvie staggered home, stunned and weeping at the death of his friend.
"That could have been me," he whispered. "I'll never be bad again, I swear it. I'll find a proper job and stop being a burden on the fair city of Djelibeybi!"
-----
The next morning, Djuvie stared at the single dried fig he was given for breakfast, without the appetite to eat it. "Dad," he asked, "what jobs can I do?"
His dad frowned. "You don't need a job, Djuvie! We suckle from the teat of Djelibeybi without permission. Work is for suckers, not sucklers!"
Djuvie sighed, and wandered out of the hovel and toward the Bazaar.
Djuvie spoke to the merchants to ask for a job, but they spat at him and chased him off, knowing him to be good-for-nothing.
He left the Bazaar and wandered the streets. Exhausted as night drew near, he dropped to the ground and sat, leaning against a building.
"Blessed Hat, please lead me to a worthy occupation. I do not care how hard I must work, I will put my entire body and mind into it!" Djuvie looked up then, at a small shop across the street. He stood up and walked in, staring at the tools neatly lined up, entranced as they sparkled in the lamplight.
"Please, honorable merchant. How much is that one?" Djuvie asked, pointing to a tool.
The shopkeeper peered at the tool. "That one is 4 tooni."
"How many ptascpi is that?" asked Djuvie.
The shopkeeper laughed. "400. More than you can afford, gutter brat!"
Djuvie nodded politely and left the shop. As he walked home, he thought hard. When he reached the spot on the bank of Djel River where Ptastie had died the day before, he stopped, and stared up at the stars glowing brightly above him.
"I'll do it, Ptastie, for your memory and what you could have been if you weren't so worthless. I'll save up and buy it, then I can have a real job and be a benefit to society!"
Djuvie started walking again toward his hovel, smiling despite the tears in his eyes.
-----
The next morning, Djuvie gulped down his fig and dashed out the door. Instead of going to drop rocks on sacred croccodiles or lounging around while trying looking as intimidating as an underfed 10 year old boy can, he made his way quickly to a ship that had just docked.
"Greetings, Comrade Sailor!" Djuvie squeaked nervously. "I will help to unload your goods for a ptascp."
The sailor pondered. "Alright then, have at it lad."
"Thank you, Comrade Sailor!" Djuvie exclaimed.
Djuvie spent the rest of the day carrying boxes off of the ship and onto the dock, some nearly as big and as heavy as he was! He did not complain though, but continued to work industriously for the entire day, ignoring the pain and weaknesses of his body as he toiled.
When the ship was finally unloaded, the sailor handed Djuvie his hard-earned ptascpi, and tipped his jaunty hat at the boy soberly. "I will tell the other sailors that you are a hard worker. Perhaps they will have jobs for you too."
"Thank you, Comrade Sailor!" Djuvie exclaimed, though he barely had the strength left to speak.
Djuvie staggered home, and barely managed to fall onto his pile of sand before falling into a deep sleep.
-----
After eating his morning fig the next day, Djuvie again went down to the docks, and true to his word the Sailor had spread word of Djuvie's hard work. Djuvie found a ship willing to hire him to unload almost immediately, and went to work.
The next day, and the next, he did the same. For an entire year, he went each day to work hard at the docks, and each day he earned another ptascpi.
Eventually, Djuvie had 400 ptascpi hidden under the pile of sand that he slept on in his hovel.
After counting them carefully, Djuvied tied them in a scrap of cloth, and trudged slowly into the heart of Djelibeybi, weighed down by the many coins.
He made his way back to the tool shop, and walked in the door.
The shopkeeper frowned at him. "You're back? I thought I told you it's 400 ptascpi!"
Djuvie nodded politely. "Yes, Comrade Shopkeeper," he said, and put the cloth holding his ptascpi on the counter. He opened it, and the ptascpi sparkled in the light.
The shopkeeper gasped. "Perhaps you will make something of yourself after all, lad. You still want the same item you looked at a year ago?"
"Yes, Comrade Shopkeeper," Djuvie said politely.
The shopkeeper handed over the tool, and Djuvie left the shop to begin his new life.
-----
But first, he had to practice. After all, he reasoned, he couldn't expect to get a job just becaue he had a tool. He had to learn to use it, perhaps even to master it, before he would be good enough to be paid for using it.
Djuvie nodded resolutely to himself, and went out in search of work on which he could practice learning his tool.
For another year, he did this each day: wandering the city to practice the trade that would some day be his.
-----
When a year had passed, and Djuvie was now twelve years old, he decided it was time to seek employment. Carrying his tool, clean and shining in the morning sun, Djuvie made his way to the palace, where workers were interviewed for manual jobs.
"Name!" barked an official when Djuvie made his way to the front of the line.
"Djuvie, Comrade Official," Djuvie said, his voice no longer squeaking as it had when he was younger and nervous.
"Hah! No last name? Don't know who your father is I bet!" the official exclaimed.
"I know who my dad is, but I don't know who my mum is. My dad says it might've been several women," Djuvie confessed, his eyes downcast.
The official started at Djuvie. "Errr, right. Well, we don't have bastards working here!"
Djuvie sighed, and walked away. As he walked, he considered his options. Maybe his father was right, and he shouldn't bother with trying to have a real job. No, he told himself, he could do better than that. He wouldn't give up!
Djuvie went back to walking the streets, and practicing even harder with his tool, through all the heat of the day. For another year, he did this, determination staying with him\ always.
-----
Eventually, the season of Innundation approached, to find Djuvie still hard at work, mastering his tool. Early one morning, while the sky was still black before turning to grey with the dawn, the soft patter of rain on Djuvie's hovel was interrupted by a *THUD* directly overhead. Another soon followed, then a third, and a fourth! Soon, the sound of rain was overcome with the sound of *THUDS* hitting the rooves of the buildings in Djelibeybi.
Djuvie got up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and went outside.
*THUD*
Djuvie screamed as something heavy and furry landed on his head. It yowled and lept off his head, leaving him with scratch marks.
A cat!
Djuvie peered into the pre-dawn gloom, and saw more cats falling from the heavens. A rain of sacred cats!
Djuvie ran back into the hovel and grabbed his tool. On second thought, he grabbed a rag as well and wrapped it securely around his head, then bravely ventured into the rain of cats.
Djuvie dashed up and down the streets of Djelibeybi as the cats fell and fell, all through the day. He weilded his tool so expertly that it seemed to have a life of its own, as it dipped to the ground time and time again. As the day went on, other men with similar tools joined his efforts, though none moved so swiftly or with such deftness as they worked. They watched in awe as Djuvie's efforts far outstripped their own, as he kept working and working after they fell victim to exhaustion.
The rain of sacred cats finally ceased, and Djuvie found himself swept by his comrades back to their office in the Palace.
"Comrade, why are you not one of us, working with us instead of on your own?" asked one.
"Ah," Djuvie said, "I was not allowed to work for the Great City of Djelibeybi because I am but a lowly bastard."
"Well you have proven your worth, despite your bastardity!" they exclaimed. "You are one of us now, and you will work with us and share the same honour that we all do for our work! You will be paid 2 talona per week, just like us!"
Djuvie laughed with joy, his tears mixing with the rain drops still on his face. "Thank you, Comrades! Thank you all!"
"You deserve it, Djuvie, for working so hard for so long with no hope of reward!" they responded.
And so Djuvie turned from his life of povery and theft to a new life of honour as a Collector of Sacred Cat Droppings for the Great City of Djelibeybi.