Now, as soon as I stepped through that door, I saw Ruber Salami standing a bit off, chopping wood.
Both Arthur and I approached, just because. After all, when you see a chap chopping wood, some sort of inspection is necessary.
For instance, is he chopping cherry, oak, spruce, poplar, birch, osage orange, or manilla wood?
As we approached, I said, “Arthur, I’m thinking we must guess what sort of wood he’s chopping.”
“I don’t care,” Arthur huffed. “I’m going to see if he’ll join my rebellion.”
What a wonder. Arthur was already starting his own rebellion to fight the current one.
A splendid plan–for a toad.
We approached to within five feet and stopped.
This, it turns out, was a dastardly mistake.
You see, Ruber saw us approach, and he was in the middle of a swing. He took his eyes off his duty for a second to ask, “What you want, eh?”
And the axe came down. And the axe imbedded itself somewhere in his ankle, I think.
He howled and dropped into a heap, clutching at his ankle.
“Save me!” he roared. “I’ve done cut my leg off!”
Arthur looked disappointed. “You did nothing of the sort. It’s just a little flesh wound.”
“IT IS NOT!” he screamed. “Save me!”
Now, I find that whenever something drastic happens, people have different reactions. Some, panic and run about, some laugh, and some stand there and just think.
I’m the third some.
Ruber met my eyes. “DO…SOMETHING!!!”
“Quite right,” I said. “Let me have a look…”
But at that minute–the very minute I was about to take a look at that gruesome wound, which was bleeding everywhere–we heard voices.
And lo, the current rebellion–I guess the only one, since Arthur’s wasn’t off to a good start–came into view.
About 30 fellows armed with pitchforks, knives, and forks, came marching forward.
When they saw us, they gave a war-whoop.
“Run!” Arthur said.
And he took off.
“Don’t leave me!” Ruber yelled.
Which is funny. It’s probably his yelling that brought them in the first place.
“Are you part of the rebellion?” I asked.
“I didn’t know there was one!” he answered.
Time to defend. I took a strong, professorish stance, and drew my katana.
The sun gleamed off the sharp blade.
The rebels pulled up and braked just a bit before me. I think they were stunned by amazing weapon.
“If you attack,” I said, “I shall be forced to fight.”
The battle was on.
I swung and parried and did some twirly things. And it worked–for a bit.
Eventually, I was overwhelmed.
The last thing I remember was…fighting.
Then the professor was out.
Like a cricket in the winter.