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A while back Venomous Vixen posted some poetry she found "while cleaning out a shoebox." At the time I lamented the fact I didn't have a shoebox to clean out myself. But this weekend, while moving a bookshelf, I came across my high school literary magazine from 1991. It had two stories in it that I had written as English assignments and totally forgotten about. The assignment for this one was to write a fable.

This is mostly an exercise in reminiscing for me....I'm sure its a lot funnier when you know all the people the characters are based on.


A Lemmings Tale


Leon Lemming was traipsing his way across the tundra one balmy Arctic afternoon when he came upon a figure he did not recognize. Being his general jovial self, Leon approached the stranger and greeted him with a smile. “Good day to you, sir,” said Leon.

“Du bist ein Stuck Pfiefenton!” (which, loosely translated from the German, means “You are a piece of pipe clay”) barked Nathan Miller, the Nomadic Germanic Tribesman. His unsuccessful quest for the mythical fountain of mousse had left him emotionally unstable, and he was convinced that anyone who tried to be nice to him was secretly out to steal his socks.

Needless to say, Leon was despondent. He had a fairly good grasp of German and knew what a mortal insult he had just been dealt. His countenance was shaken to the core. His pride shattered, he could no longer see any honorable mode of escape from his wretched life.

It was while in this state that he happened upon Lisa Lemming, head of the Revolutionary Council of Lemmings, and her good friend, Lira Lemming. “good day to you, Leon,” said Lisa.

“It’s been six months long,” snapped Leon. “Would you mind telling me just what’s so bloody good about it?”

“Hee-hee-hee. You’re such a kidder, Leon,” said Lisa, “but we’ve no time for jokes now. We’re moving upon a matte of vital importance to the Revolution…”

“You finally figured out who we’re revolting against?” asked Leon anxiously.

“No you silly lemming, but we must find someone who is brave enough to lead the Revolutionary Armies into battle against the evil sea monsters.”

At that instant, a plan was laid in Leon’s minute little lemming mind. “Will it be dangerous?” he quickly asked.

“Oh yes, very, I suppose,” said Lira Lemming, the brains of the pair.

“Then I’ll do it!” said Leon. “What more honorable escape could there be than to die while leading the Loony Lemming Legions against their oppressors,” thought Leon.

“Oh, good!” cried Lisa Lemming with Glee (but Glee Lemming said it a little bit louder than she did.) “We must inform the Revolutionary Council immediately. Then you must meet with our military advisor, the wise Michael Muskrat.”

The Council, all relieved that the job had not fallen to them, agreed whole-heartedly, after about fifteen seconds of truly shallow thought, that Leon should lead the Lemming Legions against the sea monster. The only dissenting opinion came from Jenny the Light-Hearted Lemming who raised the point that perhaps the sea monsters were really nice guys who just craved attention. Her ideas were immediately dismissed, however, as being too intellectual and advanced to be of any practical application.

Leon then proceeded to meet with Michael Muskrat to discuss military strategy. Michael looked grave as he explained to Leon that he would have to engage the sea monsters in hand-to-hand combat. “You see, Jeremy Junior Woodchuck, our Brazilian arms supplier, had both his arms eaten by Vicky the Venomous Viper ad, despite staying up all night working feverishly on some large and complex apparati with which to defeat the sea monsters, could only devise a semi-automatic zucchini shooter.” Then Michael’s face lit up. “I have an idea!” he exclaimed. He then went on to suggest the implementation of severe economic sanctions, followed by strategic bomber raids, concluded with an assault on the enemy’s flanks designed to encircle and demoralize the evil sea monsters. Leon, however, disagreed, and pointed out that since they exported nothing to the sea monsters (except themselves as a food supply) they could no more implement economic sanctions than tie their own shoes. And since they had misplaced their fleet of stealth bombers and didn’t know where to find them, bombing raids were out of the question too.

“In that case,” said Michael, “go with the full frontal assault.”

And so Leon and the Loony Lemming Legions set out for the sea. Morale was high, and the lemmings ran night and day, stopping only three times during their entire journey. The first was to direct Hector Hummingbird back to the forest from which, in a matter of only a few minutes, he had managed to separate himself by thousands of miles. The second stop was a short one to allow Leon to use a public restroom while the rest of the army made a run for the border and stopped at the nearest Taco Bell to pick up a few tacos (you know how lemmings love pseudo-Mexican food with lots of mild sauce). The third and final stop came when they were so close to the sea they could hear it. They came across Itza Iguana and Richard the Big Fat Lousy Lying Cheating Stealing Rat, and asked if they had any information about the whereabouts of the sea monsters. “We’re going to bludgeon them to death, you see,” said Leon.

“Yes,” replied Itza. “I think I remember seeing them just over yonder hill this morning. But aren’t you a little little to be bludgeoning sea monsters to death?”

“Yes, normally I would agree,” said Leon, “but it gets much easier when you bring about ten thousand of your closest relatives.”

“A rolling stone is worth two in the bush!” piped in the Rat.

“Shut up!” yelled Itza as she slapped him across the face. “He gets stupid like that sometimes,” she explained. “The sea monsters are just over that rise, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah,” piped in Richard (rats are very fond of pipers, you see, they can listen to Zamfir for days on end). “I borrowed two dollars for lunch from Sally Sea Monster this morning!”

Unfortunately for Leon, the Iguana’s mind is a fragile thing, as is its memory, and he made the mistake of trusting a rat. The “hill” toward which the two of them pointed was actually a high cliff overlooking the sea. When Leon called for the charge, he and all his loyal lemming legionnaires ran right off the cliff and into the sea, never once questioning Leon’s legendary leadership qualities.

“I wonder what they’re doing,” mused Olga the Stoichiometric Sturgeon as she watched them all plunge into the sea. Eventually she gave up trying to understand the strange nuances of lemmings and decided it was time for lunch.

The moral of the story is, “It’s okay to follow a fool, but stop when he gets to the cliff.”