A Melon Scorn'd [18 Trandary 4261]
[OOC: this isn't you. It's me.]
Early in the winter, Dustweed bought a large jumby melon, rather bigger than zir head. Zie carries a wide cloth bag, colored a dingy stained red, to market -- when zie goes at all, since of course most of the farmers are Herethroy and most of the farmers despise zir. When zie got home, the jumby melon was too big to fit into our rather crowded pantry, so Dustweed left it in the bag and hung it on the peg in the kitchen.
In one or two or three or four of our sporadic fits of cleaning, we used the peg for other things, covering the dingy red bag with Havune's spotless brown apron, or Dustweed's not-spotless yellow one, or one or another of the towels. Dustweed had long since forgotten the jumby melon. Zie did now and then complain that zir dingy red bag had gotten itself lost, and zie took zir basket-pack to the market instead, which was not as convenient.
When a prime has gone so far as to purchase a non-prime and bring it home, one must not -- definitely not -- absolutely not -- ignore it. From such ignoring will come woe!
Dubaille -- I would dearly love to blame this all on Dubaille -- sniffed in the kitchen, for he was first to wake today. "Something's not quite right here," he is reported to have said, and he scrubbed a few pots and removed various refuse. I would dearly love to blame Dubaille, but I cannot: he did try, and he even did things that Jarmiet would have done a few hours later, knowing she would have done.
Dustweed, up next, wearing a robe and nothing much else, walked in the kitchen somewhat differently, and stepped into a little puddle. "There shouldn't be a puddle in the kitchen," zie though, and investigated. The jumby melon revealed itself to zir. It was squishy and squished where a jumby melon should be hard and solid. It dripped; it stank a moderate but displeasing whiff of a stench; it stained the dingy red bag a dingy reddish-brown; it befouled Havune's apron.
Dustweed, it must be said, fought back mightily. Zie had a stack of old broadsheets for just such an occurrance, and they absorbed a great deal of stinking juice. Zie scrubbed this and that. Jarmiet will have to clean the kitchen some more, but I daresay she won't quit over the incident.
We dreaded the awakening of Havune, for he is canical of nose and fastidious of person. He did get up in time to see Dustweed carting a pile of stink-soaked paper out the door. He is canically gracious as well as canically smellery, and he simply took his apron off the peg and started washing it without particular comment.
The next question, of course, is: how to abduct Strenata, bring her to my home, ply her with sweetmeats and rare liqueurs, whisper delicate words into her cookiesome ears, flatter her, and night-well seduce her...
... into casting a mighty air-freshening spell for us, of course.