“So, how do we get to the Cosmic Sea?” asked
Brownbeard.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Hazel. “We’re not
going there.”
“What? Why not? How can we expect Elvis to
help us if I don’t do what he asked?” inquired
Brownbeard.
“It’s a trick. He gave you an impossible task,”
replied Hazel. “The plant Elvis is talking about is
called Soma. It grows at the bottom of the Cosmic
Sea just as he said, but he left out some crucial
details. Like that the plant grows from the end of
Leviathan’s tail, so getting a clipping from it will
not be easy at all! But the really hard part is that
no one to my knowledge has ever gone to the
bottom of the Cosmic Sea in search of Soma
without being crushed by Forgetfulness.”
“Crushed by forgetfulness?” asked
Brownbeard.
“No, by Forgetfulness. Capitalize your ‘f’,”
said Hazel.
“Forgetfulness,” said Brownbeard.
“Better. By the time you go to get the plant,
you won’t remember why you’re there or what
you’re doing,” said Hazel. “If you don’t drown,
then when you come back to the surface you’ll
have no recollection of who you are.”
“I won’t remember you or the rest of the
gang?” asked Brownbeard.
“No. Or your family or other friends,” said
Hazel.
Brownbeard curled his lip and squinted.
“That scoundrel!” Brownbeard exclaimed. “He
never had any intention of helping us!”
“I’m afraid not,” said Hazel.
“Well, that’s not quite true,” said Kumquat.
“Elvis was more than willing to send Brownbeard
on back to his home and send us back to ours as
well. He just wasn’t going to send us all back
together.”
“But that’s not an option,” said Wilbert.
“It sounds like an option to me,” said Kumquat.
“Yes, but pawing around all day in a litter box
and contemplating your navel sounds like an
option to you,” said Wilbert.
“Easy. Easy,” said Hazel and Brownbeard
simultaneously.
“I don’t have a navel!” snapped Kumquat.
“Well, then where does all the lint on this ship
come from?” wondered Wilbert.
“Look you two, just mind what you’re doing,”
said Hazel. “Let’s set a course off this planet and
get out of here before The Emperor’s airships find
us again.”
“Where will we go without a hyperdrive?”
asked Brownbeard.
“I’m not sure, but there has to be other places
to get the rocks we need for the traveling box,”
said Hazel.
“It’s too bad we can’t use just any old rocks,”
sighed Brownbeard.
“Yeah. What kind of rocks do they need to be
anyway?” asked Kumquat.
“I’m not exactly sure,” said Hazel. “I think
they need to have uranium or plutonium. And gold
helps too.”
Wilbert scratched his head and then said,
“Hazel, perhaps I’m crazy, but maybe it doesn’t
matter what kind of rocks you’ve got in the box.”
“What?” everyone asked in surprise at the troll’
s hypothesis.
“That’s right. Hear me out. Brownbeard, aren’t
the instructions for using the traveling box sans
hyperdrive to just shake the box of rocks, open the
lid to look inside, and then read the words you see
in the rocks?” asked Wilbert.
“Ummm, yes, I think that was the idea,” said
Brownbeard.
“Okay! That’s just an act of imagination!
Right? It doesn’t matter if the rocks contain
plutonium or kryptonite or super-conducting
nuggets of used chewing gum. It’s not the rocks! It’
s what you see in the rocks!” said Wilbert
excitedly.
“Ah, I think I see where Wilbert is going with
this!” said Hazel.
“I don’t,” said Kumquat.
“Go on Wilbert,” said Brownbeard.
“If it doesn’t matter what kind of rocks are in
there when used as a traveling box by a single
person, then why should it matter what kind of
rocks are in there when used as the hyperdrive
reactor core in a ship?” asked Wilbert.
“Ummm, it shouldn’t,” guessed Brownbeard.
“Right! It shouldn’t,” agreed Hazel.
Wilbert gave a broad, toothy troll smile.
Schmoor gave Wilbert a thumbs-up and patted
him on the back.
“Sounds hare-brained, or rather troll-brained to
me,” quipped Kumquat. “We’re really talking
about the difference between magic and science
here, aren’t we? I mean, a traveling box is a
magical device, so maybe then it doesn’t matter
what kind of rocks you use in there. Maybe you
could use horse—”
“Ah-hem,” cautioned Hazel.
“—teeth,” said Kumquat. “Maybe you could
just as well use horse teeth in the thing. But a
hyperdrive is an instrument of science. And that is
different than magic my friends. I don’t think the
reactor will work without the right materials. I
think Wilbert is wrong.”
“You mean Wilbert’s fuzzy logic is wrong,”
corrected Brownbeard.
“I think Wilbert is wrong,” re-affirmed
Kumquat.
“Not so fast there my little kitten,” said Hazel.
“Let’s not arbitrarily draw a line between magic
and science. If I turn Brownbeard here into a toad
is that magic or science?”
“Magic!” cried Brownbeard. “And black magic
at that!”
“Not so Brownie,” said Hazel. “Perhaps all I
did is re-arrange your molecules. There’s more
than enough raw material in you to make several
toads without violating the Law of Conservation
of Mass-Energy. Now that’s science. But it’s
magic too. That the atoms exist at all, and that
they can be re-arranged and worked upon
skillfully and artfully, now that’s magical.”
“Hazel, you’re talking to me about things I
cannot understand,” said Brownbeard. “God made
the Universe, set it in motion, continues to watch
The Creation, and when necessary, intervenes
therein. That is my understanding of things and
that’s good enough for me.”
“Well, if you want to know more about what I
think—” began Kumquat.
“I, for one, do not want to know more about
what you think,” interrupted Wilbert, who
continued, “Besides, we are getting way off track.
If the objective is for us to get back to our own
home world, then we have got to try something.
This discussion may be great for college students
in some philosophy class, but it’s a waste of our
time. Do we or do we not give my idea a try?”
“I say we give your idea a try Wilbert,” said
Brownbeard. “What was your idea again?”
“To just go get some plain old rocks or
pebbles from anywhere and try them in the
hyperdrive’s traveling box,” said Hazel.
“Oh, yes. Right. I think it is a splendid idea,”
said Brownbeard.
* * *
The For Sale cautiously descended towards
the ocean. It was decided to sail north and leave
Sa’Laami waters. No sign of trouble from the
Emperor’s air or sea ships showed, but the crew
assumed that their reprieve was temporary. The
For Sale stayed just in sight of the continental
coast. After several days they left the territorial
waters of Sa’Laam and entered those of the cold,
cold Land of Longing.
“Storm is brewing,” announced Wilbert from
the crow’s nest.
“Those clouds look menacing,” observed
Brownbeard.
“How about two people row to shore and get a
couple dozen pebbles and broken sea shells from
the shore,” said Hazel. “Then come on back and
we’ll get out of here.”
“Good plan,” said Brownbeard. “Schmoor,
how about you and me?”
Schmoor gave a hearty salute and the two
prepared to set off. Just then the wind picked up
and blew Brownbeard’s tri-cornered hat off his
head and into the choppy grey waters. Ocean
spray peppered the faces of the crew.
“Wow!” shouted Wilbert. “This is blowing in
fast folks! This is going to be trouble.”
“Impossible!” said Kumquat. “The ocean was
calm and the sky was sunny just a few seconds
ago!”
“Take us out to sea!” Brownbeard ordered
Kumquat. “Get us as far away from shore as
possible!”
“Right!” shouted the cat.
“I don’t think we’ve got time for that!” said
Wilbert as the For Sale began to rock violently.
“Take us back out to sea!” Brownbeard
demanded again, “Before it’s too late and we end
up smashed to bits on the shore!”
But it was already too late. Wave after wave
began to pound the For Sale as icy rain pelted
everyone’s heads and hard, cold winds clawed at
their faces. The ship was pushed closer and closer
to the treacherous boulders jutting from out of the
sea, guarding the shore like sharp, black teeth.
The crew fought valiantly to steer the For Sale
clear of the deadly obstacles and managed to run
the ship up onto the beach. Once they were there,
the storm broke as suddenly as it had arrived. The
chilled, drenched crew looked up at the sun in
amazement.
“That was quite strange,” said Brownbeard.
“And I have seen some pretty strange stuff on my
journey thus far.”
“Yes. I probably shouldn’t say this,” said
Hazel, “but I find it downright creepy.”
“How do you mean?” asked Brownbeard.
Hazel paused, not wanting to say what she was
about to say for fear that by acknowledging the
thought, she might make it more real or give it
power. But she said it anyway.
“It is as though somebody or something wanted
us to end up right here,” said Hazel.
“You mean somebody or something called up
the storm, ran us aground, and then called off the
storm?” asked Brownbeard.
“Yes,” said Hazel.
“Who could do such a thing?” asked
Brownbeard.
“Well, a very powerful witch perhaps,” said
Hazel.
“Is it something you could do?” asked
Brownbeard.
“At one time, maybe. I’m really out of practice
for that kind of thing. Whoever did this was very
good,” admired Hazel.
Brownbeard thought a moment and then said,
“You know Hazel, perhaps the storm was just one
of those things. Totally natural. Freaky. But
totally natural.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Hazel.
Though the sun was out, it was low in the sky
and getting lower. The wind picked up again. It
felt like late autumn. Schmoor sneezed.
“Okay everybody,” said Brownbeard. “Let’s
get on some clean, dry clothes! I don’t want
anyone getting pneumonia. Then, let’s get some
food in our tummies. I have a feeling were going
to need to give our bones some strength.”
* * *
While the crew of the For Sale ate bowls of
sea snake stew cooked up from the ship’s
dwindling provisions, a row boat quietly made its
way to shore just a half mile away. Its two
occupants had somehow avoided the wrath of the
eerie storm. Without need of warmth or protection,
the two black clad skeleton creatures sat in their
boat all night, oblivious to the bitter winds
whipping and slashing at them. Their fiery red
eyes burned a steady glow as they gazed intently
upon the stranded For Sale.
Brownbeard.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Hazel. “We’re not
going there.”
“What? Why not? How can we expect Elvis to
help us if I don’t do what he asked?” inquired
Brownbeard.
“It’s a trick. He gave you an impossible task,”
replied Hazel. “The plant Elvis is talking about is
called Soma. It grows at the bottom of the Cosmic
Sea just as he said, but he left out some crucial
details. Like that the plant grows from the end of
Leviathan’s tail, so getting a clipping from it will
not be easy at all! But the really hard part is that
no one to my knowledge has ever gone to the
bottom of the Cosmic Sea in search of Soma
without being crushed by Forgetfulness.”
“Crushed by forgetfulness?” asked
Brownbeard.
“No, by Forgetfulness. Capitalize your ‘f’,”
said Hazel.
“Forgetfulness,” said Brownbeard.
“Better. By the time you go to get the plant,
you won’t remember why you’re there or what
you’re doing,” said Hazel. “If you don’t drown,
then when you come back to the surface you’ll
have no recollection of who you are.”
“I won’t remember you or the rest of the
gang?” asked Brownbeard.
“No. Or your family or other friends,” said
Hazel.
Brownbeard curled his lip and squinted.
“That scoundrel!” Brownbeard exclaimed. “He
never had any intention of helping us!”
“I’m afraid not,” said Hazel.
“Well, that’s not quite true,” said Kumquat.
“Elvis was more than willing to send Brownbeard
on back to his home and send us back to ours as
well. He just wasn’t going to send us all back
together.”
“But that’s not an option,” said Wilbert.
“It sounds like an option to me,” said Kumquat.
“Yes, but pawing around all day in a litter box
and contemplating your navel sounds like an
option to you,” said Wilbert.
“Easy. Easy,” said Hazel and Brownbeard
simultaneously.
“I don’t have a navel!” snapped Kumquat.
“Well, then where does all the lint on this ship
come from?” wondered Wilbert.
“Look you two, just mind what you’re doing,”
said Hazel. “Let’s set a course off this planet and
get out of here before The Emperor’s airships find
us again.”
“Where will we go without a hyperdrive?”
asked Brownbeard.
“I’m not sure, but there has to be other places
to get the rocks we need for the traveling box,”
said Hazel.
“It’s too bad we can’t use just any old rocks,”
sighed Brownbeard.
“Yeah. What kind of rocks do they need to be
anyway?” asked Kumquat.
“I’m not exactly sure,” said Hazel. “I think
they need to have uranium or plutonium. And gold
helps too.”
Wilbert scratched his head and then said,
“Hazel, perhaps I’m crazy, but maybe it doesn’t
matter what kind of rocks you’ve got in the box.”
“What?” everyone asked in surprise at the troll’
s hypothesis.
“That’s right. Hear me out. Brownbeard, aren’t
the instructions for using the traveling box sans
hyperdrive to just shake the box of rocks, open the
lid to look inside, and then read the words you see
in the rocks?” asked Wilbert.
“Ummm, yes, I think that was the idea,” said
Brownbeard.
“Okay! That’s just an act of imagination!
Right? It doesn’t matter if the rocks contain
plutonium or kryptonite or super-conducting
nuggets of used chewing gum. It’s not the rocks! It’
s what you see in the rocks!” said Wilbert
excitedly.
“Ah, I think I see where Wilbert is going with
this!” said Hazel.
“I don’t,” said Kumquat.
“Go on Wilbert,” said Brownbeard.
“If it doesn’t matter what kind of rocks are in
there when used as a traveling box by a single
person, then why should it matter what kind of
rocks are in there when used as the hyperdrive
reactor core in a ship?” asked Wilbert.
“Ummm, it shouldn’t,” guessed Brownbeard.
“Right! It shouldn’t,” agreed Hazel.
Wilbert gave a broad, toothy troll smile.
Schmoor gave Wilbert a thumbs-up and patted
him on the back.
“Sounds hare-brained, or rather troll-brained to
me,” quipped Kumquat. “We’re really talking
about the difference between magic and science
here, aren’t we? I mean, a traveling box is a
magical device, so maybe then it doesn’t matter
what kind of rocks you use in there. Maybe you
could use horse—”
“Ah-hem,” cautioned Hazel.
“—teeth,” said Kumquat. “Maybe you could
just as well use horse teeth in the thing. But a
hyperdrive is an instrument of science. And that is
different than magic my friends. I don’t think the
reactor will work without the right materials. I
think Wilbert is wrong.”
“You mean Wilbert’s fuzzy logic is wrong,”
corrected Brownbeard.
“I think Wilbert is wrong,” re-affirmed
Kumquat.
“Not so fast there my little kitten,” said Hazel.
“Let’s not arbitrarily draw a line between magic
and science. If I turn Brownbeard here into a toad
is that magic or science?”
“Magic!” cried Brownbeard. “And black magic
at that!”
“Not so Brownie,” said Hazel. “Perhaps all I
did is re-arrange your molecules. There’s more
than enough raw material in you to make several
toads without violating the Law of Conservation
of Mass-Energy. Now that’s science. But it’s
magic too. That the atoms exist at all, and that
they can be re-arranged and worked upon
skillfully and artfully, now that’s magical.”
“Hazel, you’re talking to me about things I
cannot understand,” said Brownbeard. “God made
the Universe, set it in motion, continues to watch
The Creation, and when necessary, intervenes
therein. That is my understanding of things and
that’s good enough for me.”
“Well, if you want to know more about what I
think—” began Kumquat.
“I, for one, do not want to know more about
what you think,” interrupted Wilbert, who
continued, “Besides, we are getting way off track.
If the objective is for us to get back to our own
home world, then we have got to try something.
This discussion may be great for college students
in some philosophy class, but it’s a waste of our
time. Do we or do we not give my idea a try?”
“I say we give your idea a try Wilbert,” said
Brownbeard. “What was your idea again?”
“To just go get some plain old rocks or
pebbles from anywhere and try them in the
hyperdrive’s traveling box,” said Hazel.
“Oh, yes. Right. I think it is a splendid idea,”
said Brownbeard.
* * *
The For Sale cautiously descended towards
the ocean. It was decided to sail north and leave
Sa’Laami waters. No sign of trouble from the
Emperor’s air or sea ships showed, but the crew
assumed that their reprieve was temporary. The
For Sale stayed just in sight of the continental
coast. After several days they left the territorial
waters of Sa’Laam and entered those of the cold,
cold Land of Longing.
“Storm is brewing,” announced Wilbert from
the crow’s nest.
“Those clouds look menacing,” observed
Brownbeard.
“How about two people row to shore and get a
couple dozen pebbles and broken sea shells from
the shore,” said Hazel. “Then come on back and
we’ll get out of here.”
“Good plan,” said Brownbeard. “Schmoor,
how about you and me?”
Schmoor gave a hearty salute and the two
prepared to set off. Just then the wind picked up
and blew Brownbeard’s tri-cornered hat off his
head and into the choppy grey waters. Ocean
spray peppered the faces of the crew.
“Wow!” shouted Wilbert. “This is blowing in
fast folks! This is going to be trouble.”
“Impossible!” said Kumquat. “The ocean was
calm and the sky was sunny just a few seconds
ago!”
“Take us out to sea!” Brownbeard ordered
Kumquat. “Get us as far away from shore as
possible!”
“Right!” shouted the cat.
“I don’t think we’ve got time for that!” said
Wilbert as the For Sale began to rock violently.
“Take us back out to sea!” Brownbeard
demanded again, “Before it’s too late and we end
up smashed to bits on the shore!”
But it was already too late. Wave after wave
began to pound the For Sale as icy rain pelted
everyone’s heads and hard, cold winds clawed at
their faces. The ship was pushed closer and closer
to the treacherous boulders jutting from out of the
sea, guarding the shore like sharp, black teeth.
The crew fought valiantly to steer the For Sale
clear of the deadly obstacles and managed to run
the ship up onto the beach. Once they were there,
the storm broke as suddenly as it had arrived. The
chilled, drenched crew looked up at the sun in
amazement.
“That was quite strange,” said Brownbeard.
“And I have seen some pretty strange stuff on my
journey thus far.”
“Yes. I probably shouldn’t say this,” said
Hazel, “but I find it downright creepy.”
“How do you mean?” asked Brownbeard.
Hazel paused, not wanting to say what she was
about to say for fear that by acknowledging the
thought, she might make it more real or give it
power. But she said it anyway.
“It is as though somebody or something wanted
us to end up right here,” said Hazel.
“You mean somebody or something called up
the storm, ran us aground, and then called off the
storm?” asked Brownbeard.
“Yes,” said Hazel.
“Who could do such a thing?” asked
Brownbeard.
“Well, a very powerful witch perhaps,” said
Hazel.
“Is it something you could do?” asked
Brownbeard.
“At one time, maybe. I’m really out of practice
for that kind of thing. Whoever did this was very
good,” admired Hazel.
Brownbeard thought a moment and then said,
“You know Hazel, perhaps the storm was just one
of those things. Totally natural. Freaky. But
totally natural.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Hazel.
Though the sun was out, it was low in the sky
and getting lower. The wind picked up again. It
felt like late autumn. Schmoor sneezed.
“Okay everybody,” said Brownbeard. “Let’s
get on some clean, dry clothes! I don’t want
anyone getting pneumonia. Then, let’s get some
food in our tummies. I have a feeling were going
to need to give our bones some strength.”
* * *
While the crew of the For Sale ate bowls of
sea snake stew cooked up from the ship’s
dwindling provisions, a row boat quietly made its
way to shore just a half mile away. Its two
occupants had somehow avoided the wrath of the
eerie storm. Without need of warmth or protection,
the two black clad skeleton creatures sat in their
boat all night, oblivious to the bitter winds
whipping and slashing at them. Their fiery red
eyes burned a steady glow as they gazed intently
upon the stranded For Sale.
The Adventures of Short Stubbly Brownbeard
Alan J. Levine
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Five
Buy yer hard copy
at . . .
at . . .
Want to support
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.