I think I just wrote a feel-good story... Here it is:
He never really was a small talker. He talked BIG. Whenever he meet people, at the bus stop, the pub, or out in the countryside, his long and complex sentences and loud voice gave people head aches. He mainly talked about metaphysics, chemistry and English folklore, and even the simplest sentence reminded him of something that had to do with these three topics - and to be fair basically everything has to do with one of these three topics when you live in a small village in Cornwall. To make it even worse he had become a pensioner the previous year and was now abound in all hours of the day.
One day the village people had enough. They met up at his home, and with them they had brought Lily Longabarton, a self proclaimed witch that lived in a village nearby. She said she had a Wicca certificate and had attended several certified sabbaths, but in reality they all knew that she was just a sad, old hippie. They were just desperate was all. Lily had promised Miss Bonyard, who was the organiser of the flower arrangements at the church and ran the music festival which was held every year in the meadow south of the church yard, that she had a potion that could stop him. Stop him for good.
So now the whole village, sick and tired of getting their small talk spoiled, stood eagerly waiting to see what would happen. Lily took a step toward his house, looked around, met people's eyes and enjoyed the attention. Then she opened the gate at the exact movement that he came out of the door in a tweed jacket and a scarf.
"By the ancient powers of the pixies - I command you to drink this drink of ..." Lily shrieked.
"OH! I TAKE IT YOU MEAN THE PISKIES!" the big talker roared.
One hour later most of the villagers had left, and after one and a half hour the two - Lily and the big talker - had taken the discussion to his kitchen. But it really did help. After that day he was not seen outside his house as much as before, and he had become much less talkative. In the pub he mostly seemed in a hurry, only buying a pint and saying a few lofty word so that people should not see that he went to the corner where Billy sat to buy amphetamine, acid, ecstasy and viagra. His neighbours still did complain about the noise, but the villagers simply had to admit that hiring a hedge witch had worked.
Now they could again indulge in the senseless art of small talk.
'met'
Not sure about the last one, but the first three combined would be a lot of fun, but could well give you a kidney stone.
Thanks... met it is!.
I am sure the man got himself a kidney stone, but such things are seldom mentioned in a feel good story.
This is your idea of a feel-good story? An interesting village character reduced to muted drug addict?
I had to look up "piskies."
Desperate to be zombies? What did they talk about during the hour and a half? I'd rather live with piskies and let them lead me out to get lost in the moors. I love the moors. Is gorse edible?
I used to know her! She was revered among the more erudite of the zombies.
It's a good story. Lots to chew on.
Maybe I am not as capable of the feel-good genre as I thought I was.
It is a bit like the Norwegian children's book, Karius and Baktus. Its about two little bacteria who lives in the mouth of a boy called Jens. So even though it was sort of a moral story about how to keep your teeth clean and the two rascals has to endure first the toothbrush and then the dentist, the children often identified with the tooth trolls instead of the boy, Jens. Karius and Baktus were originally washed out in the pipes, but it was changed so that they ended up on a raft that floated out to sea, because there were some children who simply didn't want to brush their teeth any more. I was one of those children who liked the wonderfully anarchists bandits in the mouth and didn't care much for the boy.
I guess I was never really on the villagers side anyway. Come to think of it I stink at feel good.
I stink at believing anything I've been relentlessly told, medically, especially by dentists. I just love that the story backfired and the "bad" guys had to be rescued so that kids would still want to brush their teeth! While I like my teeth clean at times, I would not be surprised to someday learn that excessive brushing (three or more times a day) is in fact bad for our teeth. Maybe it will be a question that shows up on dating sites "how many times a day do you brush your teeth?" so folks can weed out the weirdos who do it too often.
What you don't stink at is writing fabulously coherent stories that are original, quirky, and sometimes downright weird. I love them.
Thanks :) Good to know that I am not an overall stinker!
Being a sceptic is useful in life, but does give you a lot of resistance. The collective we-know-how is strong. My wife calls the special female version consensus hell.
"She simply can't wear those shoes. She simply can't bring up her children like that." "she didn't say that!"
Young mothers are the worst.
Haha, I call that the matron dignity. I've know girls that were cocaine sniffing party freaks, then 10 month later suddenly the epitome of 40,000 years of deep, female experience and Victorian morals experts. It hits hard and sudden as soon as you get pregnant.
Not all of course. I've known a few who took the experience a bit more meekly, and had it in them to experiment with the new status quo for example by listening to what the father of the child had to say.
But... maybe Lily and big talker actually was better off leaving the villagers to themselves. I guess that was the line of thoughts I was having when I added the feel good intro.
The ultimate solution to the big talker's behavior was not magical but social. His newfound association with Lily and subsequent change in behavior reduced his public presence and loquacity. Sometimes, solutions come from unexpected places or result from indirect actions.