The Forbidden Mushroom of Misfortune (third)

This is the third of four sections of this story (not a book)

SETTING THE STAGE

 

 

The next few weeks, the plan seemed to work quite well.  When one was in town, if spoken to, they were to appear cheerful and speak pleasantly of their spouse.  Soon, everyone actually believed that they got along!  But only one would be seen at a time in town, and presently each were asked a number of times where their other half was.  Seeing this as a form of jeopardy of their lives, every once-in-a-while they’d travel down there together, but shop separately.  Still people eyed this skeptically, so finally, with their best tolerance, they could shop together, even while holding hands or with an arm around a waist, maybe feigning a loving laugh at what was really an insult whispered teasingly in one’s ear.  It appeared quite convincing.   

            At last this satisfied the delighted townspeople, and the two were shortly looked upon with a smile by everyone who saw them.  If only they knew the truth!

            “Why me!” Penelope mourned upon entry of their quaint manor after an afternoon of deceiving the townsfolk.  “Why must I go through this!  Hasn’t the town figured out by now that we didn’t do it?”

            “You never know.” Phillip immediately strode to the opposite side of the room from Penelope.  “But you know we can’t let our guard down now, not when we’re invited to the Mayor’s house for supper.”

            “I can’t believe you said yes!  You want we should be put to a harder test?  I would have happily tested you in my own fashion if you had simply told me!”

            “I didn’t hear you offering excuses for not going.  Don’t pin this on me!”

            “And why are we invited, but to show a good example to his wretched daughter.  I can’t believe he’s making her marry already!  How can we support this by proving ‘how well we turned out’?  It’s so wrong.”

            During the course of this difficult façade, of love and compassion, Phillip and Penelope had oddly enough been labeled an example of “The Perfect Couple,” the last thing they had ever expected.  Now their turn for the good was supposed to rub off on the less fortunate Mayor’s daughter, about to be married to someone she despised.

            Their story was told at the table at the Mayor’s house, about how poorly they had gotten along even during the wedding, then how their love for each other had slowly, gradually grown.  Both Phillip and Penelope had practically choked.  But apparently their act was convincing enough for even the Mayor to make up what had happened to make their drastic change come about.

            “...And their love saved them from most certain doom when - it’s funny to think of now - they were accused of having murdered the Baker!”

            The Mayor laughed, and Phillip and Penelope laughed, but the Mayor’s daughter didn’t - she couldn’t in the face of what awaited her at the altar.   

            Other than half-hearted assurances and made-up stories of their happiness at home, dinner conversation went well.  But though the two seemed to pass this test, neither could be sure that all doubt that they love each other was erased from the minds of the people of Luckawry.  The torture seemed to be neverending.

 

 

TEMPTRAD

 

 

Once home, neither could sleep that night, the fear of never again seeing happiness nor freedom creating nightmares before they could even close their eyes.  Despite all of their desperate thinking, there seemed to be no way out.  The nightmare dawned on them as reality, which made each resolve to be even more intolerable for the other the next morning.  Fortunately, they didn’t have to go through with their vows of irritation.  Phillip was visited in the night. 

“Phillip!...  Phillip, wake up!”  A gravelly voice called from the moon-lit night on the other side of his open window.

            “Drop dead, Penelope,” Phillip muttered, almost finally asleep.  He was not yet awake enough to realize this was not Penelope’s voice.

            “Good grief, I’m not Penelope!” the voice spat.  “I’m Temptrad, your fed-up neighborhood elf!”

            “You’re...what?”  Phillip realized the mistaken identity at such an odd introduction, “Tempting who?” he sat up, eyes laden shut, and went to open the bedroom door.

            “Oh, for the Great Mushroom...” Temptrad mumbled. “Out here, you head of curdled milk!”

            Phillip squinted out the window into the moon-lit yard.  “Who are you?”

            “Temptrad.  I’m here to help.  I can split you two up as easy as pie, no harm done.  But it has to be tonight!  Get Penelope.”

            Hope had arrived!... as strange a form as it may be.  Phillip lost no time in pounding on Penelope’s door and dragging her out to meet Temptrad.  She pretty much kicked and screamed the whole way, cursing and threatening between Phillip’s explanations of where they were going.   

 

“An elf!” She gasped in frustration, “We’re going to see an elf?”

            “He said he could split us up...”

            “You’re kidding me, right?  This is just some really twisted form of mental torture, right?  If you’re planning on locking me out of the house, you can just-“  Then she saw him.  Temptrad stood in the middle of the yard right where Phillip had left him.  As lumpy, squat and smelly as though he were molded of cattle dung, he was no higher than Penelope’s knee, and was dressed to blend with the forest.  “You weren’t kidding.”

            “Would I kid about something like this?”

            “Come on,” Temptrad urged impatiently, “this will take some time and walking.”

 

Both stunned at the situation they were thrown into, Penelope and Phillip followed, almost believing it to only be a dream, except the both of them were awakened in order to participate in the first place.  It didn’t seem as though a real path was being used.  Trees closed in on them more thickly the deeper they trekked across the forest.  Soon the couple were complaining and whining about scratches and bruises from the pine needles and tree roots.  Clothing was ripped by groping branches, and soon their feet disappeared in thick muck as they entered the swamp.  Penelope was gripping too tightly on Phillip’s robe, and Phillip was going too fast, and at one point Penelope managed to half-way accidentally shove Phillip over into the ankle-high mud.  Temptrad didn’t speak the whole way.

            Just as the followers were about to give in to the weariness and desperation of the trip, just as the swamp floor began to look like the most comfortable bed they’d ever seen, Phillip nearly stumbled over Temptrad as the elf abruptly stopped with the words,

            “We’re here.”

            Phillip looked around.  “Here?  Where’s ‘here’?”

            Temptrad sighed and knelt on a small island of moss near a carpet of mushrooms.  Penelope was appalled by the sight.  Apparently they had wandered into this field of fungus without having noticed.  Penelope wrinkled her nose as she looked around at the forest floor and saw nothing but mushrooms.

            “Eeew!” she whined, trying to keep from stepping on any.

            “Why are we here?” Phillip asked, nose wrinkled.

            “We are here for your salvation - and mine.” The elf had found the largest mushroom in the area, and was rubbing it as though to test its skin, or even in order to soothe it.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean, the only reason I’m doing this is to let me be in peace!  I’ve lived in the same place for centuries - in the ground under your house - and have found it a convenient, quiet place until they built the house over it.”

            “That’s not our fault,” Penelope defended, “We didn’t even want it built!”  She couldn’t keep her eyes off of the elf as he took out a knife and proceeded to slice a hand-sized hole in the top of the mushroom.

            “No, actually that part was all right,” Temptrad muttered.  “It was when you two moved in that I decided to do this!  Your constant fighting kept me from sleeping during the day when you were home, and as soon as I do get to sleep, you get back from town and begin again!”

 

By now, the top of the mushroom had been taken off, and some creamy, gloppy goop could be seen inside.  Temptrad reached into a bag at his waist and sprinkled some of its contents into the mushroom.

            “Now,” Temptrad stepped away from the bowl of repulsive, gray gel, “eat all of this between the two of you.  Try to take equal portions.  Once it’s all gone, you will be apart by this time tomorrow.”

            “You mean, one of us will have died.”  Penelope accused, sure there was some trick.

“No,” Temptrad’s marble, gray eyes twinkled as he shook his head.  “You’ll be living quite contentedly apart never to see each other again.”

Phillip and Penelope looked at the mushroom then at each other to see if the other was going to actually do it.  As they thought of what Temptrad said would happen, the disgust each felt for the other grew stronger than that for the mushroom gel.  At the same time, each silently vowed they would do anything to never see the other again, then both scrambled for the gooey promise and began eating it as though neither had eaten for days.  With each mouthful came the taste of freedom, of peace, possible happiness!  Before long they were scraping the bottom of the hollowed-out fungus... and none too soon.  

"Ho, there!" A voice called from nearby in the woods.  The woodcutter had begun his search for firewood early that morning, and came upon the two still kneeling before the great mushroom.  "What are you doing there-" 

He stopped short as he saw them and realized what they had done.  The man having gone speechless, Phillip looked up sheepishly and mumbled something to the effect that they weren't doing anything.  But by the look on the man's face, they realized they had done something terribly wrong!    

The woodcutter stared at the mushroom. "The Forbidden Mushroom of Misfortune!" he gasped.

            Penelope and Phillip looked down at what they had done, then at each other, suddenly feeling sick.  They turned, lastly, toward the woodcutter with horror-filled eyes.  So that was the Mushroom of Misfortune!  They had always thought it was just an expression.  But alas, it was Forbidden. 

A punishment was in order.