The For Sale eased out of its vertical climb and
began cruising through a narrow cloud corridor
opening before them and closing behind them as
they went. Mists of cool, sweet water showered
upon the fires raging over the deck.
“So where are we? What is this place?”
inquired Brownbeard.
“This is the castle of the King of Clouds! And
we’re going to see him! He can help us get back
home,” said Wilbert.
“If we’re where we think we are,” advised
Kumquat. “His castle never looks the same to me.
Every time I see it, it somehow looks different.”
“Oh, this is his castle all right,” said Hazel.
“But he’s not really a king. He just likes to be
called by that title. Really he is the Secretary of
Vapor Condensation for Region 45F-7845 of the
Milky Way.”
“Excuse me?” said Brownbeard.
“He, like all other such officials in the
Universe,” continued Hazel, “are appointed for an
Eon by the Council for Responsible
Administration of Natural Laws. But he’s got a lot
of book knowledge and he knows a lot of
important people, so just humor him and call him
‘King.’ Unless he takes a liking to you and wants
you to call him by his current first name. He
changes names like some people change
underwear.”
“He changes names everyday?” asked
Brownbeard.
“No, about once every few years. If even.”
said Hazel.
“How do you know him? Will he help us?”
asked Brownbeard.
“Oh, gosh. We met at an Omicron Delta Delta
mixer back at Galactic Central University. We’ve
stayed in touch and we borrow baking ingredients
from one another on occasion,” Hazel replied.
“About eight hundred years ago he borrowed a
cup of milk from me and a couple of eggs, so I’m
one up on the scoreboard.”
The For Sale came into a large, cavernous
space in the cloud they were traveling through.
Some ghost-like grizzly bears came ambling up
along the boat. One of them gestured to the crew
to come down. Brownbeard looked and looked.
Then he realized that these were cloud men! They
were men made up of cloud!
“Don’t stare Captain! That’s rude,” advised
Wilbert.
“You act as if you haven’t seen cloud men
before,” remarked Kumquat.
“I have not,” replied Brownbeard.
The crew disembarked and one of the cloud
men walked up to them.
“The King will be expecting you in the formal
dining room. I hope you are hungry. Supper will
be served in an hour. With your permission, we
will repair and clean your ship while you stay with
us. Your rooms have been prepared,” said the
cloud man.
“Thank-you kindly,” said Hazel.
A cloud man led them to their rooms.
Brownbeard took a room not unlike his suite in
The Emperor’s palace. But here of course,
everything was made of cloud. This made things
rather interesting. In an hour, the crew was
escorted to the main dining room. Everyone was
looking quite damp, for a cloud you know, is
nothing but water! Now cats don’t like to get wet,
so Kumquat looked miserable. Wilbert seemed to
enjoy this immensely. Schmoor’s sock cap clung
to the side of his head, weighted down with
moisture. Brownbeard’s paper maché eyebrow
was soggy. But Brownbeard thought Hazel was
simply beautiful, her long hair dark with rainwater,
falling in gentle curls around her lovely face.
Trumpets sounded to announce the entry of the
King of Clouds. In walked a larger version of the
cloud men who had greeted them upon entry into
the cavern. His cloud hair was slicked back in a
way that Brownbeard found unusual, as he had
never seen the American greaser style of the
fifties. The King wore tight fitting cloud pants and
nifty cloud jacket over his large-collared cloud
shirt. Little wisps of cloud hair poked from his
cloud chest through the vee in his cloud shirt.
Brownbeard could not help but be impressed with
the King’s appearance.
“Hazel! Kumquat! Wilbert! Schmoor!” boomed
the King of Clouds. “How’re y’all doin’? My! But
it’s been a long time.”
“King!” said Hazel as she rushed around to
give the King a big hug. She seemed to disappear
into the King as they hugged.
“Hi King!” cried Wilbert and Kumquat.
Schmoor bounced up and down in his seat with
glee, his little wet sock cap flapping up and down
repeatedly smacking him in the face.
“King,” said Hazel, “I’d like you to meet my
good friend Brownbeard. Brownbeard, I’d like you
to meet my good friend the King of Clouds.”
“Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty,” said
Brownbeard, doing his best to give the King of
Clouds a manly, firm handshake.
“Likewise, likewise,” said the King. “But
please, call me Elvis. All of my friends do. Thank-
you very much.”
“Pleased to meet you, Elvis,” said Brownbeard.
“What!” said Hazel with mock surprise. “I
thought your first name was Fats!”
“No,” said the King.
Hazel rolled her eyes and said, “I must be
losing my mind.”
“Yes,” agreed Brownbeard.
Hazel hit Brownbeard’s stomach.
“All right. We’ve got a scrumptious feast
prepared for y’all this evening,” announced the
King. “I hope y’all are hungry.”
“We are,” everyone agreed.
“Ah! Here come some hor’devoirs. Please, eat
up!”
Two cloud men—or were they cloud ladies?—
delivered several large cloud platters full of little
clouds in various formation and variety. Here was
a dark blue puff. There was a tiny cube of ice
with shavings of tiny white wisps of cirrus cloud.
Here was a blanket of fog whipped up into a
miniature mountain. There was a little blue-grey
cumulonimbus cloud with a puddle of rainwater in
the middle. Brownbeard plucked a cloud puff off
of the platter and tried to chew. Nothing. Just a
sensation of cool wetness in his mouth. Everyone
else seemed to be enjoying the food, especially
Elvis.
“So, Hazel! What brings you to this part of the
galaxy! You are still living out in the sticks? Are
you thinking about moving? Or are you just
visiting?”
“Just visiting King—ah, I mean Elvis. Me and
the gang were on a, um, business trip to Sa’Laam,”
said Hazel.
“Oh, sure, sure,” said Elvis. “I see things must
not have gone so good. Looked like the slick
sultan of salami was out to get you guys!”
“Yeah, things got a bit rough,” agreed Hazel. “I’
m so glad you showed up when you did! You
really got us out of a jam.”
“No problem. Any time at all. Now what
exactly your business was I won’t ask, unless you
want to tell me. But if it made that little pipsqueak
of a tyrant down there that mad, you guys did
okay in my book,” said Elvis with a laugh. As he
guffawed, little puffs of cloud shook off his hair,
head, face and body.
“He tried to hurt Hazel!” said Kumquat.
“What!” cried Elvis.
“It’s no big deal,” said Hazel calmly. “Really
Elvis, take it easy.”
Little sparks of lightening popped on Elvis’
forehead. His cloud eyes flashed with tiny bursts
of electricity.
“I’ll kill the weasel! I’ll send a bolt of
lightening down on him and reduce him to
charcoal!” cried Elvis.
“Brownbeard tried to help Hazel,” said
Wilbert. “Then we got there just in time with the
For Sale to make a get away!”
“I’ll send a bolt of lightening down on him so
powerful he’ll think the Day of Judgment was
upon him and his soul was being foreclosed
upon!” cried Elvis.
“Give it to him King!” cried Kumquat.
“Yeah! Pound him good!” cheered Wilbert.
Schmoor clapped and squealed with delight.
Lightening bolts shot from Elvis’ head all over the
place. One hit Brownbeard’s drinking glass and
boiled the water all away.
“No! No! No!” cried Hazel. “Stop it! I’m okay!
Brownbeard came to my rescue just like you did
for all of us Elvis. Now let bygones be bygones.
Okay?”
Hazel put a hand on Elvis to soothe him. She
received quite a shock.
“Ouch!” she screamed. “Elvis! Calm down!”
Elvis blew out a gale of wind and said, “Okay.
I’m okay. You discharged me Hazel. I’ll let that
twerp off the hook if that’s what you really want.
So, Brownbeard came to your rescue? Well, good
for you Brownbeard. All right. Everyone enjoyed
the hor’devoirs? How about a little sherbet to
clean the palate?”
“Sounds great,” said Wilbert.
“Elvis, we have another favor to ask of you,”
said Hazel.
“You got it darling. Whatever you need, it’s
yours,” said Elvis.
“Our hyperdrive system needs a new traveling
box. The traveling box on our drive is out of
pebbles. Can you help us?” asked Hazel.
“Possibly,” said Elvis. “What is it worth to
you?”
“Um, well, I don’t know,” said Hazel.
“Well, I don’t normally give out pebbles for
traveling boxes,” said Elvis.
“You don’t have any?” asked Kumquat.
“Oh, sure I do,” replied Elvis. “I just am not
willing to part with any so easily.”
“What? Elvis! You just said whatever I need is
mine! Just ask!” said an agitated Hazel.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Elvis. “But why do you
need them? Why don’t you stay for awhile? It’s
been so long since we’ve seen one another. What’
s the rush?”
“Well, it’s time for us to go home. That’s all,”
said Hazel. “Brownbeard here hasn’t seen his
folks in some time, and there’s probably an inch
worth of dust on my sand castle.”
“Dust schmust,” said Elvis. “Tell you what, I’
ll send Brownbeard here on his way if you’d like.”
“Elvis,” said Hazel firmly, “Brownbeard and I
are going home together. With or without your
help. Now, if I’ve asked something that you can’t
or won’t give us, then fine. But don’t play games
with me.”
“You really like this Brownbeard guy, don’t
you?” asked Elvis.
“What! Where is this coming from?” asked
Hazel, who was now turning red in the face from
anger and embarrassment.
“Why? I mean what do you see in this guy? I’
ve got agents all over the galaxy. They tell me
Brownbeard is indecisive. He’s a job hopper. He
was an accountant. Then he’s a pirate. Then it’s
something else! You need someone stable Hazel.
You deserve better.”
Brownbeard looked down at his sherbet. Wow!
The King of Clouds really had him pegged. Hazel
was trying to keep from flying into a frenzied fit.
“You look here Elvis! Number one! I don’t like
being lied to!” seethed Hazel.
“What! I haven’t lied to you honey!” said Elvis.
“Don’t you honey me! And oh yes, you have
been lying! Pretending like you didn’t know what
our business in Sa’Laam was about! Well, then
how’d you know Brownbeard was a pirate! Or an
accountant! You’ve been lying and you’ve been
spying! Spying on him because you knew —you
knew—”
“That you liked him,” said Kumquat.
“Ooooh! Kissy! Kissy!” said Wilbert.
Schmoor pretended he was smooching an
invisible partner.
“Kumquat! Wilbert! Schmoor! Shut up!”
ordered Hazel. “Now listen here Fats—”
“Elvis,” corrected Brownbeard.
“I mean, Elvis—whatever your name is! Call
off your watchdogs. I don’t expect you to spy on
Brownbeard or myself ever again! And yes, your
agents got the indecisive part right. I mean, they
nailed that one on the head! I’ve never met a man
so incapable of deciding what he wants to do with
himself! It’s ridiculous!”
Brownbeard hung his head low. Why did she
like him then, if indeed she did? What did it
matter? He just wanted to shrivel up and die.
“But what your goons didn’t tell you,” Hazel
continued, “is that he’s gentle, caring, and
courageous! Why, he’s got more courage in his
little pinkie than you’ve got in that big cloudy
belly of yours, and all the rest of you for that
matter! Maybe his résumé is a little colorful. So
what? Look at yours! How boring! Secretary of
Vapor Condensation for Region 45F-7845 of the
Milky Way. Period. At least Brownbeard’s not
afraid to try new things. For you, big adventure is
changing your name once a century. Now there’s
living on the edge!”
“Are you through?” asked Elvis.
Hazel was still fuming but said, “I guess so.”
“Well, that was pretty harsh,” said Elvis. “But
I guess you’re right. Still, I was hoping that
someday, oh, I don’t know—”
“Elvis, you are a tremendous friend—most of
the time. But there could never be anything more
between you and me. You’re a cloud. I’m a
human being,” said Hazel gently.
“Yes, you’re right of course. You always are,”
said Elvis.
“So, will you help us?” asked Hazel.
“No,” said Elvis.
“Fine,” said Hazel, her temperature about to hit
boil all over again.
“I will not help for nothing,” continued Elvis.
“My assistance has a price. Brownbeard, I’m sure
you are all of the wonderful things Hazel says you
are. But I’ve always loved the beautiful sand
witch Hazel. If you’ll have my help, you must
prove your courage and worth. I don’t want to see
Hazel yoking herself to some wimp.”
“Don’t listen to him Brownbeard,” said Hazel.
“You don’t have to prove anything to him. We
don’t need his help.”
“No,” said Brownbeard. “I can handle it. What
would you have me do Elvis?”
“Hmmmm, that’s a good question,” said Elvis.
“Ah! Here comes the soup!”
The cloud servants brought out big cloud
bowls filled with water and mist and little chunks
of hail.
“This is one of my favorites!” boomed the
King.”
“What is it?” asked Brownbeard.
“What is it? What is it?” cried Elvis. “Just
taste it and you tell me!”
Everyone slurped their soup, but no one would
hazard a guess as to what they might be eating.
Well, Brownbeard gave it a shot.
“Um, yes, I think it’s clam chowder maybe?
Very good!” he said.
“Please! Hazel! What’s wrong with the boy?
No! Taste again. It’s Thai Tom-Yum soup! Lot’s
of lemon grass, hold the cilantro. Just the way I
like it,” said Elvis.
To Brownbeard, the soup tasted watery. It was
like slurping a glass of ice water. He decided to
just play along with Elvis’ game. Obviously,
either the King of Cloud’s had no taste buds or
liked to pretend.
“Well? What would you have me do?”
Brownbeard asked Elvis again.
“I have a short laundry list Brownbeard. Do
these things and not only do you and Hazel get the
rocks you need to restore your hyperdrive, but
you both have my blessing as well,” said Elvis.
Hazel snorted.
“I’ll ignore that,” said Elvis. “Now, there are
twelve little errands I’d like you to run for me.
Nothing Herculean. First, there is a kitty cat that I’
ve heard about that I would like to have as a pet.
The Nemean kitty cat. Go find him and bring him
to me.”
“Isn’t that the Nemean Lion?” asked Kumquat.
“Second, in the Swamp of Lerna there is a
many headed hydra. It’s quite a nuisance to the
communities on the edge of the swamp. Be a good
fellow and go slay it.”
“But when you chop off one of its heads, two
more grow back in its place!” said Wilbert.
“Third, go capture the Cerythian Hind and
bring her back to me. I just want a look at her. She
is said to have golden horns.”
“But she’s too fast to catch!” protested Hazel.
“Fourth,” continued Elvis, “go capture the
Erymanthian boar.
Schmoor shook his head furiously in the
negative.
“Fifth, be a chap and help out my friend King
Augeas. He has a vast stable that needs cleaning.
Go clean it. Don’t take any payment for your
work.”
“Oh, my word! The stink from that place is
renowned around the galaxy!” cried Kumquat.
“Let Wilbert do that.”
“Sixth, in Arcadia the Stymphalian Birds are
causing a ruckus. Go chase them away.”
“But don’t they peck people to death? Let
Kumquat have that task!” said Wilbert.
“No, no, these are all jobs for Brownbeard,”
said Elvis. “Continuing. Seventh, there is a bull in
Crete that is terrorizing the countryside. Go do
your thing there as well.”
“But Elvis! He breathes flame and didn’t he
father the Minotaur?” asked a concerned Hazel.
“Indeed,” said Elvis. “Eighth—well now, I’ll
give you a break on this one. Go to my friend
Diomedes. He’ll treat you well. He’ll wine and
dine you and provide you a place to rest. Just let
him know you’re a friend of mine. Do you like
horses?”
“Yes, I do,” said Brownbeard.
“Then maybe he’ll let you ride his mares,”
said Elvis.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at this task.
Everyone except for Schmoor who, in dismay,
smacked his forehead with his hand.
“Going on, numero nueve,” said Elvis. “Go to
the Amazon and find Queen Hippolytes. Ask her
for her belt. In exchange for her belt offer her a
gift. She likes nice clothes. Take her a dress. Try
a size three or four.”
“Can that be right?” inquired Kumquat.
“Ten! Steal—oh, right, you’re not in the
thievery business anymore,” said Elvis. “Okay, go
to Spain and borrow Geryon’s three headed cattle.
I’d like to compare them to a herd I’m thinking of
buying. Make sure to bring his dog Orthus a treat.”
“I don’t think Geryon lends his cattle out,” said
Wilbert.
“Eleventh, go get some apples from the grove
guarded by the Hesperides nymphs in the Atlas
Mountains. Stop and pet their sweet little lizard
Ladon,” said Elvis.
“Ladon’s not a lizard. He’s a dragon!” said
Hazel.
“And last, but not least—number twelve,” said
Elvis. “Bring the hellhound Cerberus to me
unharmed so I can have a gander at the brute.”
A choking Schmoor spit his soup out onto the
table.
“Wow! That’s a lot of stuff,” said Brownbeard.
“It sounds tough and vaguely familiar.”
“Elvis! Brownbeard will not do a single thing
on your absurd list of tasks. We’ll go get pebbles
for our hyperdrive elsewhere if that’s the way you’
re going to be,” declared Hazel.
“Well, if you think you can find the kind of
pebbles you need, then by all means don’t let me
stop you,” Elvis quipped.
“Thank-you,” snapped Hazel. “It’s been a real
pleasure being rescued by you!”
“It’s all right Hazel,” said Brownbeard
reassuringly. “I can do these things. It’s really no
big deal.”
“That’s my man!” said Elvis as he reached
over to give Brownbeard a hearty smack on the
back. Brownbeard didn’t feel a thing.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” said Elvis. “One more
thing.”
“No! No more things!” said Hazel. “The list is
long and ridiculous enough.”
“Just a little thing,” protested Elvis.
“Go on Elvis,” said Brownbeard.
“After you’ve done the first twelve tasks, go
get me a pepperoni and spinach pizza from
Fragelli’s in Queens in New York City. And a
large birch beer.”
“All right,” said Brownbeard. “Finally,
somewhere I’ve heard of.”
“Oh! And get some of those cinnamon
breadsticks with the hot fudge dipping sauce!
Yeah, get me an order of those too,” said Elvis.
“Won’t that give you heartburn?” asked Hazel.
“I’ll give you my Time Exchange Card that
will get you through any toll booths and into and
out of most points on the space-time continuum,”
Elvis went on.
“Most places?” asked Brownbeard.
“Some places in New Jersey can be
problematic,” Elvis answered. “Ah! Here it is! The
main course! Bon appetite!”
Brownbeard had no idea what the cloudy mass
before him was supposed to be.
“My favorite,” boomed Elvis. “Filet mignon
topped with crawfish etouffe, fresh steamed
asparagus, and baby new potatoes! Mmmmmm.”
“Elvis,” said Hazel. “If you really care for me
the way you say you do—”
“You know I do baby,” said Elvis.
“—then you’ll cut this nonsense out. Just give
us the rocks and let us go home!” said Hazel.
“No can do babe,” said Elvis. “I won’t help
unless Brownbeard proves himself.”
“Then I’m out of here,” said Hazel. “Let’s go!”
Hazel got up and with a swish of her head
indicated to her companions that it was time to
leave.
Kumquat, Wilbert and Schmoor looked
sheepishly from Hazel, back to Elvis, and then
back to Hazel. Then slowly, they began to get up
from their seats. Brownbeard remained seated.
“Brownbeard, let’s go,” said Hazel. “Please.”
Brownbeard began to get up.
“All right! All right! Stop! Let’s not ruin such a
fine meal,” said Elvis. “Sit down! Sit down! Let’s
be reasonable.”
Hazel remained standing.
“What do you mean by reasonable Elvis? I’m
listening,” said Hazel.
“Please, sit down Hazel,” said Elvis.
“What do you mean by reasonable?” asked
Hazel again, as she remained standing.
Elvis let out a groan and then said, “Ah! How
about Brownbeard do just one thing to prove his
mettle? Is that okay with you?”
“No! It’s not your business to test Brownbeard.
That’s my job,” insisted Hazel.
Elvis sighed but said no more. Hazel sat down
dejectedly.
“What is Brownbeard to do?” asked Hazel.
“Nothing big,” said Elvis. “Just a trifle.”
“Get on with it,” said Hazel.
Elvis put one of his feet up on the table. The
crew of the For Sale looked around at one another
with questioning looks.
“I’ve been having these ice crystals form on
my feet and between my toes,” complained Elvis.
“Oh! Yech! I don’t like where this is going,”
said Hazel warily.
“Hazel! Please!” said an offended Elvis. “It’s
nothing like that. Now, there is a plant at the
bottom of the Cosmic Sea that’s supposed to work
wonders on all sorts of rashes and inflammations.
I’ll bet it could help me with my little problem
here. Surely it wouldn’t be too much trouble for
our friend Brownbeard to take a little swim and go
get me this wee plant for my burning doggies?”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” said Brownbeard.
Hazel just frowned. After finishing the main
course there was more sherbet, and then for desert
there was the cloud version of tiramisu. Then, the
crew joined Elvis in his smoking and billiard
parlor to while away the evening. Brownbeard
tried his best to enjoy the cigar Elvis gave him,
which the King of Clouds assured was the finest
this side of the Pleiades. To Brownbeard, the cigar
smelled and tasted like stagnant lake water. The
following morning, after breakfast, the crew said
their good-byes and prepared to leave the
protection of the cloud castle.
“You’re lucky I love you—as a friend,” Hazel
said to Elvis as she gave him a hug. “Otherwise I
would not put up with your shenanigans.”
“I do what I do because you’re my favorite. I
only want the best for you,” said Elvis.
“You’re not my father,” said Hazel.
“Take care and good luck Brownbeard,” said
Elvis as he extended a big, misty hand to shake.
“Yes, I will. You too,” said Brownbeard.
Kumquat, Wilbert, and Schmoor said their
good-byes as well. Then, the repaired and well
cleaned For Sale was on its way to the Cosmic
Sea so that Brownbeard might find this healing
plant Elvis wanted. Afterwards, they would get the
pebbles needed for the hyperdrive. Then, at last,
they would be on their way home. That was the
plan at any rate.
began cruising through a narrow cloud corridor
opening before them and closing behind them as
they went. Mists of cool, sweet water showered
upon the fires raging over the deck.
“So where are we? What is this place?”
inquired Brownbeard.
“This is the castle of the King of Clouds! And
we’re going to see him! He can help us get back
home,” said Wilbert.
“If we’re where we think we are,” advised
Kumquat. “His castle never looks the same to me.
Every time I see it, it somehow looks different.”
“Oh, this is his castle all right,” said Hazel.
“But he’s not really a king. He just likes to be
called by that title. Really he is the Secretary of
Vapor Condensation for Region 45F-7845 of the
Milky Way.”
“Excuse me?” said Brownbeard.
“He, like all other such officials in the
Universe,” continued Hazel, “are appointed for an
Eon by the Council for Responsible
Administration of Natural Laws. But he’s got a lot
of book knowledge and he knows a lot of
important people, so just humor him and call him
‘King.’ Unless he takes a liking to you and wants
you to call him by his current first name. He
changes names like some people change
underwear.”
“He changes names everyday?” asked
Brownbeard.
“No, about once every few years. If even.”
said Hazel.
“How do you know him? Will he help us?”
asked Brownbeard.
“Oh, gosh. We met at an Omicron Delta Delta
mixer back at Galactic Central University. We’ve
stayed in touch and we borrow baking ingredients
from one another on occasion,” Hazel replied.
“About eight hundred years ago he borrowed a
cup of milk from me and a couple of eggs, so I’m
one up on the scoreboard.”
The For Sale came into a large, cavernous
space in the cloud they were traveling through.
Some ghost-like grizzly bears came ambling up
along the boat. One of them gestured to the crew
to come down. Brownbeard looked and looked.
Then he realized that these were cloud men! They
were men made up of cloud!
“Don’t stare Captain! That’s rude,” advised
Wilbert.
“You act as if you haven’t seen cloud men
before,” remarked Kumquat.
“I have not,” replied Brownbeard.
The crew disembarked and one of the cloud
men walked up to them.
“The King will be expecting you in the formal
dining room. I hope you are hungry. Supper will
be served in an hour. With your permission, we
will repair and clean your ship while you stay with
us. Your rooms have been prepared,” said the
cloud man.
“Thank-you kindly,” said Hazel.
A cloud man led them to their rooms.
Brownbeard took a room not unlike his suite in
The Emperor’s palace. But here of course,
everything was made of cloud. This made things
rather interesting. In an hour, the crew was
escorted to the main dining room. Everyone was
looking quite damp, for a cloud you know, is
nothing but water! Now cats don’t like to get wet,
so Kumquat looked miserable. Wilbert seemed to
enjoy this immensely. Schmoor’s sock cap clung
to the side of his head, weighted down with
moisture. Brownbeard’s paper maché eyebrow
was soggy. But Brownbeard thought Hazel was
simply beautiful, her long hair dark with rainwater,
falling in gentle curls around her lovely face.
Trumpets sounded to announce the entry of the
King of Clouds. In walked a larger version of the
cloud men who had greeted them upon entry into
the cavern. His cloud hair was slicked back in a
way that Brownbeard found unusual, as he had
never seen the American greaser style of the
fifties. The King wore tight fitting cloud pants and
nifty cloud jacket over his large-collared cloud
shirt. Little wisps of cloud hair poked from his
cloud chest through the vee in his cloud shirt.
Brownbeard could not help but be impressed with
the King’s appearance.
“Hazel! Kumquat! Wilbert! Schmoor!” boomed
the King of Clouds. “How’re y’all doin’? My! But
it’s been a long time.”
“King!” said Hazel as she rushed around to
give the King a big hug. She seemed to disappear
into the King as they hugged.
“Hi King!” cried Wilbert and Kumquat.
Schmoor bounced up and down in his seat with
glee, his little wet sock cap flapping up and down
repeatedly smacking him in the face.
“King,” said Hazel, “I’d like you to meet my
good friend Brownbeard. Brownbeard, I’d like you
to meet my good friend the King of Clouds.”
“Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty,” said
Brownbeard, doing his best to give the King of
Clouds a manly, firm handshake.
“Likewise, likewise,” said the King. “But
please, call me Elvis. All of my friends do. Thank-
you very much.”
“Pleased to meet you, Elvis,” said Brownbeard.
“What!” said Hazel with mock surprise. “I
thought your first name was Fats!”
“No,” said the King.
Hazel rolled her eyes and said, “I must be
losing my mind.”
“Yes,” agreed Brownbeard.
Hazel hit Brownbeard’s stomach.
“All right. We’ve got a scrumptious feast
prepared for y’all this evening,” announced the
King. “I hope y’all are hungry.”
“We are,” everyone agreed.
“Ah! Here come some hor’devoirs. Please, eat
up!”
Two cloud men—or were they cloud ladies?—
delivered several large cloud platters full of little
clouds in various formation and variety. Here was
a dark blue puff. There was a tiny cube of ice
with shavings of tiny white wisps of cirrus cloud.
Here was a blanket of fog whipped up into a
miniature mountain. There was a little blue-grey
cumulonimbus cloud with a puddle of rainwater in
the middle. Brownbeard plucked a cloud puff off
of the platter and tried to chew. Nothing. Just a
sensation of cool wetness in his mouth. Everyone
else seemed to be enjoying the food, especially
Elvis.
“So, Hazel! What brings you to this part of the
galaxy! You are still living out in the sticks? Are
you thinking about moving? Or are you just
visiting?”
“Just visiting King—ah, I mean Elvis. Me and
the gang were on a, um, business trip to Sa’Laam,”
said Hazel.
“Oh, sure, sure,” said Elvis. “I see things must
not have gone so good. Looked like the slick
sultan of salami was out to get you guys!”
“Yeah, things got a bit rough,” agreed Hazel. “I’
m so glad you showed up when you did! You
really got us out of a jam.”
“No problem. Any time at all. Now what
exactly your business was I won’t ask, unless you
want to tell me. But if it made that little pipsqueak
of a tyrant down there that mad, you guys did
okay in my book,” said Elvis with a laugh. As he
guffawed, little puffs of cloud shook off his hair,
head, face and body.
“He tried to hurt Hazel!” said Kumquat.
“What!” cried Elvis.
“It’s no big deal,” said Hazel calmly. “Really
Elvis, take it easy.”
Little sparks of lightening popped on Elvis’
forehead. His cloud eyes flashed with tiny bursts
of electricity.
“I’ll kill the weasel! I’ll send a bolt of
lightening down on him and reduce him to
charcoal!” cried Elvis.
“Brownbeard tried to help Hazel,” said
Wilbert. “Then we got there just in time with the
For Sale to make a get away!”
“I’ll send a bolt of lightening down on him so
powerful he’ll think the Day of Judgment was
upon him and his soul was being foreclosed
upon!” cried Elvis.
“Give it to him King!” cried Kumquat.
“Yeah! Pound him good!” cheered Wilbert.
Schmoor clapped and squealed with delight.
Lightening bolts shot from Elvis’ head all over the
place. One hit Brownbeard’s drinking glass and
boiled the water all away.
“No! No! No!” cried Hazel. “Stop it! I’m okay!
Brownbeard came to my rescue just like you did
for all of us Elvis. Now let bygones be bygones.
Okay?”
Hazel put a hand on Elvis to soothe him. She
received quite a shock.
“Ouch!” she screamed. “Elvis! Calm down!”
Elvis blew out a gale of wind and said, “Okay.
I’m okay. You discharged me Hazel. I’ll let that
twerp off the hook if that’s what you really want.
So, Brownbeard came to your rescue? Well, good
for you Brownbeard. All right. Everyone enjoyed
the hor’devoirs? How about a little sherbet to
clean the palate?”
“Sounds great,” said Wilbert.
“Elvis, we have another favor to ask of you,”
said Hazel.
“You got it darling. Whatever you need, it’s
yours,” said Elvis.
“Our hyperdrive system needs a new traveling
box. The traveling box on our drive is out of
pebbles. Can you help us?” asked Hazel.
“Possibly,” said Elvis. “What is it worth to
you?”
“Um, well, I don’t know,” said Hazel.
“Well, I don’t normally give out pebbles for
traveling boxes,” said Elvis.
“You don’t have any?” asked Kumquat.
“Oh, sure I do,” replied Elvis. “I just am not
willing to part with any so easily.”
“What? Elvis! You just said whatever I need is
mine! Just ask!” said an agitated Hazel.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Elvis. “But why do you
need them? Why don’t you stay for awhile? It’s
been so long since we’ve seen one another. What’
s the rush?”
“Well, it’s time for us to go home. That’s all,”
said Hazel. “Brownbeard here hasn’t seen his
folks in some time, and there’s probably an inch
worth of dust on my sand castle.”
“Dust schmust,” said Elvis. “Tell you what, I’
ll send Brownbeard here on his way if you’d like.”
“Elvis,” said Hazel firmly, “Brownbeard and I
are going home together. With or without your
help. Now, if I’ve asked something that you can’t
or won’t give us, then fine. But don’t play games
with me.”
“You really like this Brownbeard guy, don’t
you?” asked Elvis.
“What! Where is this coming from?” asked
Hazel, who was now turning red in the face from
anger and embarrassment.
“Why? I mean what do you see in this guy? I’
ve got agents all over the galaxy. They tell me
Brownbeard is indecisive. He’s a job hopper. He
was an accountant. Then he’s a pirate. Then it’s
something else! You need someone stable Hazel.
You deserve better.”
Brownbeard looked down at his sherbet. Wow!
The King of Clouds really had him pegged. Hazel
was trying to keep from flying into a frenzied fit.
“You look here Elvis! Number one! I don’t like
being lied to!” seethed Hazel.
“What! I haven’t lied to you honey!” said Elvis.
“Don’t you honey me! And oh yes, you have
been lying! Pretending like you didn’t know what
our business in Sa’Laam was about! Well, then
how’d you know Brownbeard was a pirate! Or an
accountant! You’ve been lying and you’ve been
spying! Spying on him because you knew —you
knew—”
“That you liked him,” said Kumquat.
“Ooooh! Kissy! Kissy!” said Wilbert.
Schmoor pretended he was smooching an
invisible partner.
“Kumquat! Wilbert! Schmoor! Shut up!”
ordered Hazel. “Now listen here Fats—”
“Elvis,” corrected Brownbeard.
“I mean, Elvis—whatever your name is! Call
off your watchdogs. I don’t expect you to spy on
Brownbeard or myself ever again! And yes, your
agents got the indecisive part right. I mean, they
nailed that one on the head! I’ve never met a man
so incapable of deciding what he wants to do with
himself! It’s ridiculous!”
Brownbeard hung his head low. Why did she
like him then, if indeed she did? What did it
matter? He just wanted to shrivel up and die.
“But what your goons didn’t tell you,” Hazel
continued, “is that he’s gentle, caring, and
courageous! Why, he’s got more courage in his
little pinkie than you’ve got in that big cloudy
belly of yours, and all the rest of you for that
matter! Maybe his résumé is a little colorful. So
what? Look at yours! How boring! Secretary of
Vapor Condensation for Region 45F-7845 of the
Milky Way. Period. At least Brownbeard’s not
afraid to try new things. For you, big adventure is
changing your name once a century. Now there’s
living on the edge!”
“Are you through?” asked Elvis.
Hazel was still fuming but said, “I guess so.”
“Well, that was pretty harsh,” said Elvis. “But
I guess you’re right. Still, I was hoping that
someday, oh, I don’t know—”
“Elvis, you are a tremendous friend—most of
the time. But there could never be anything more
between you and me. You’re a cloud. I’m a
human being,” said Hazel gently.
“Yes, you’re right of course. You always are,”
said Elvis.
“So, will you help us?” asked Hazel.
“No,” said Elvis.
“Fine,” said Hazel, her temperature about to hit
boil all over again.
“I will not help for nothing,” continued Elvis.
“My assistance has a price. Brownbeard, I’m sure
you are all of the wonderful things Hazel says you
are. But I’ve always loved the beautiful sand
witch Hazel. If you’ll have my help, you must
prove your courage and worth. I don’t want to see
Hazel yoking herself to some wimp.”
“Don’t listen to him Brownbeard,” said Hazel.
“You don’t have to prove anything to him. We
don’t need his help.”
“No,” said Brownbeard. “I can handle it. What
would you have me do Elvis?”
“Hmmmm, that’s a good question,” said Elvis.
“Ah! Here comes the soup!”
The cloud servants brought out big cloud
bowls filled with water and mist and little chunks
of hail.
“This is one of my favorites!” boomed the
King.”
“What is it?” asked Brownbeard.
“What is it? What is it?” cried Elvis. “Just
taste it and you tell me!”
Everyone slurped their soup, but no one would
hazard a guess as to what they might be eating.
Well, Brownbeard gave it a shot.
“Um, yes, I think it’s clam chowder maybe?
Very good!” he said.
“Please! Hazel! What’s wrong with the boy?
No! Taste again. It’s Thai Tom-Yum soup! Lot’s
of lemon grass, hold the cilantro. Just the way I
like it,” said Elvis.
To Brownbeard, the soup tasted watery. It was
like slurping a glass of ice water. He decided to
just play along with Elvis’ game. Obviously,
either the King of Cloud’s had no taste buds or
liked to pretend.
“Well? What would you have me do?”
Brownbeard asked Elvis again.
“I have a short laundry list Brownbeard. Do
these things and not only do you and Hazel get the
rocks you need to restore your hyperdrive, but
you both have my blessing as well,” said Elvis.
Hazel snorted.
“I’ll ignore that,” said Elvis. “Now, there are
twelve little errands I’d like you to run for me.
Nothing Herculean. First, there is a kitty cat that I’
ve heard about that I would like to have as a pet.
The Nemean kitty cat. Go find him and bring him
to me.”
“Isn’t that the Nemean Lion?” asked Kumquat.
“Second, in the Swamp of Lerna there is a
many headed hydra. It’s quite a nuisance to the
communities on the edge of the swamp. Be a good
fellow and go slay it.”
“But when you chop off one of its heads, two
more grow back in its place!” said Wilbert.
“Third, go capture the Cerythian Hind and
bring her back to me. I just want a look at her. She
is said to have golden horns.”
“But she’s too fast to catch!” protested Hazel.
“Fourth,” continued Elvis, “go capture the
Erymanthian boar.
Schmoor shook his head furiously in the
negative.
“Fifth, be a chap and help out my friend King
Augeas. He has a vast stable that needs cleaning.
Go clean it. Don’t take any payment for your
work.”
“Oh, my word! The stink from that place is
renowned around the galaxy!” cried Kumquat.
“Let Wilbert do that.”
“Sixth, in Arcadia the Stymphalian Birds are
causing a ruckus. Go chase them away.”
“But don’t they peck people to death? Let
Kumquat have that task!” said Wilbert.
“No, no, these are all jobs for Brownbeard,”
said Elvis. “Continuing. Seventh, there is a bull in
Crete that is terrorizing the countryside. Go do
your thing there as well.”
“But Elvis! He breathes flame and didn’t he
father the Minotaur?” asked a concerned Hazel.
“Indeed,” said Elvis. “Eighth—well now, I’ll
give you a break on this one. Go to my friend
Diomedes. He’ll treat you well. He’ll wine and
dine you and provide you a place to rest. Just let
him know you’re a friend of mine. Do you like
horses?”
“Yes, I do,” said Brownbeard.
“Then maybe he’ll let you ride his mares,”
said Elvis.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at this task.
Everyone except for Schmoor who, in dismay,
smacked his forehead with his hand.
“Going on, numero nueve,” said Elvis. “Go to
the Amazon and find Queen Hippolytes. Ask her
for her belt. In exchange for her belt offer her a
gift. She likes nice clothes. Take her a dress. Try
a size three or four.”
“Can that be right?” inquired Kumquat.
“Ten! Steal—oh, right, you’re not in the
thievery business anymore,” said Elvis. “Okay, go
to Spain and borrow Geryon’s three headed cattle.
I’d like to compare them to a herd I’m thinking of
buying. Make sure to bring his dog Orthus a treat.”
“I don’t think Geryon lends his cattle out,” said
Wilbert.
“Eleventh, go get some apples from the grove
guarded by the Hesperides nymphs in the Atlas
Mountains. Stop and pet their sweet little lizard
Ladon,” said Elvis.
“Ladon’s not a lizard. He’s a dragon!” said
Hazel.
“And last, but not least—number twelve,” said
Elvis. “Bring the hellhound Cerberus to me
unharmed so I can have a gander at the brute.”
A choking Schmoor spit his soup out onto the
table.
“Wow! That’s a lot of stuff,” said Brownbeard.
“It sounds tough and vaguely familiar.”
“Elvis! Brownbeard will not do a single thing
on your absurd list of tasks. We’ll go get pebbles
for our hyperdrive elsewhere if that’s the way you’
re going to be,” declared Hazel.
“Well, if you think you can find the kind of
pebbles you need, then by all means don’t let me
stop you,” Elvis quipped.
“Thank-you,” snapped Hazel. “It’s been a real
pleasure being rescued by you!”
“It’s all right Hazel,” said Brownbeard
reassuringly. “I can do these things. It’s really no
big deal.”
“That’s my man!” said Elvis as he reached
over to give Brownbeard a hearty smack on the
back. Brownbeard didn’t feel a thing.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” said Elvis. “One more
thing.”
“No! No more things!” said Hazel. “The list is
long and ridiculous enough.”
“Just a little thing,” protested Elvis.
“Go on Elvis,” said Brownbeard.
“After you’ve done the first twelve tasks, go
get me a pepperoni and spinach pizza from
Fragelli’s in Queens in New York City. And a
large birch beer.”
“All right,” said Brownbeard. “Finally,
somewhere I’ve heard of.”
“Oh! And get some of those cinnamon
breadsticks with the hot fudge dipping sauce!
Yeah, get me an order of those too,” said Elvis.
“Won’t that give you heartburn?” asked Hazel.
“I’ll give you my Time Exchange Card that
will get you through any toll booths and into and
out of most points on the space-time continuum,”
Elvis went on.
“Most places?” asked Brownbeard.
“Some places in New Jersey can be
problematic,” Elvis answered. “Ah! Here it is! The
main course! Bon appetite!”
Brownbeard had no idea what the cloudy mass
before him was supposed to be.
“My favorite,” boomed Elvis. “Filet mignon
topped with crawfish etouffe, fresh steamed
asparagus, and baby new potatoes! Mmmmmm.”
“Elvis,” said Hazel. “If you really care for me
the way you say you do—”
“You know I do baby,” said Elvis.
“—then you’ll cut this nonsense out. Just give
us the rocks and let us go home!” said Hazel.
“No can do babe,” said Elvis. “I won’t help
unless Brownbeard proves himself.”
“Then I’m out of here,” said Hazel. “Let’s go!”
Hazel got up and with a swish of her head
indicated to her companions that it was time to
leave.
Kumquat, Wilbert and Schmoor looked
sheepishly from Hazel, back to Elvis, and then
back to Hazel. Then slowly, they began to get up
from their seats. Brownbeard remained seated.
“Brownbeard, let’s go,” said Hazel. “Please.”
Brownbeard began to get up.
“All right! All right! Stop! Let’s not ruin such a
fine meal,” said Elvis. “Sit down! Sit down! Let’s
be reasonable.”
Hazel remained standing.
“What do you mean by reasonable Elvis? I’m
listening,” said Hazel.
“Please, sit down Hazel,” said Elvis.
“What do you mean by reasonable?” asked
Hazel again, as she remained standing.
Elvis let out a groan and then said, “Ah! How
about Brownbeard do just one thing to prove his
mettle? Is that okay with you?”
“No! It’s not your business to test Brownbeard.
That’s my job,” insisted Hazel.
Elvis sighed but said no more. Hazel sat down
dejectedly.
“What is Brownbeard to do?” asked Hazel.
“Nothing big,” said Elvis. “Just a trifle.”
“Get on with it,” said Hazel.
Elvis put one of his feet up on the table. The
crew of the For Sale looked around at one another
with questioning looks.
“I’ve been having these ice crystals form on
my feet and between my toes,” complained Elvis.
“Oh! Yech! I don’t like where this is going,”
said Hazel warily.
“Hazel! Please!” said an offended Elvis. “It’s
nothing like that. Now, there is a plant at the
bottom of the Cosmic Sea that’s supposed to work
wonders on all sorts of rashes and inflammations.
I’ll bet it could help me with my little problem
here. Surely it wouldn’t be too much trouble for
our friend Brownbeard to take a little swim and go
get me this wee plant for my burning doggies?”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” said Brownbeard.
Hazel just frowned. After finishing the main
course there was more sherbet, and then for desert
there was the cloud version of tiramisu. Then, the
crew joined Elvis in his smoking and billiard
parlor to while away the evening. Brownbeard
tried his best to enjoy the cigar Elvis gave him,
which the King of Clouds assured was the finest
this side of the Pleiades. To Brownbeard, the cigar
smelled and tasted like stagnant lake water. The
following morning, after breakfast, the crew said
their good-byes and prepared to leave the
protection of the cloud castle.
“You’re lucky I love you—as a friend,” Hazel
said to Elvis as she gave him a hug. “Otherwise I
would not put up with your shenanigans.”
“I do what I do because you’re my favorite. I
only want the best for you,” said Elvis.
“You’re not my father,” said Hazel.
“Take care and good luck Brownbeard,” said
Elvis as he extended a big, misty hand to shake.
“Yes, I will. You too,” said Brownbeard.
Kumquat, Wilbert, and Schmoor said their
good-byes as well. Then, the repaired and well
cleaned For Sale was on its way to the Cosmic
Sea so that Brownbeard might find this healing
plant Elvis wanted. Afterwards, they would get the
pebbles needed for the hyperdrive. Then, at last,
they would be on their way home. That was the
plan at any rate.
The Adventures of Short Stubbly Brownbeard
Alan J. Levine
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Four
Buy yer hard copy
at . . .
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go to the followin'
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Brownbeard and
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1633. Brownbeard is
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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.