Jul 27, 2016
Music: Creepy –
Bensound.com.
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James: |
Here are some Totally Made-Up Tales, brought to you by the magic of the internet. |
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This is the story of Dr. Rich. |
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Andrew: |
Once upon a time, there was a doctor who specialized in curing diseases only of the very rich. Inevitably of course, they were in some way or other. |
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James: |
He would travel round in his large, black car made specially for him by Mercedes-Benz himself, and visit them one by one, his rich clientele, ringing on the doorbell and asking, "Are you ill?" |
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Andrew: |
In fact, one of the things that he had identified, and the reason why he himself was so successful, was that he realized that money did not in fact make you happy, but filled you with a deep sense of malaise. |
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James: |
In fact, to put it simply, money made you ill. |
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Andrew: |
His expertise was to remove money from the rich in order that they could feel better, and indeed many of his patients who were bankrupted by his bills went on to lead happy, fulfilled, virtuous lives. |
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James: |
Even before they'd got to that state, merely at the point that he presented them with the bill for having cured their sniffle or subdued their pox, or whatever it is that he had been called upon to do today, they felt better, relieved, as if the air was flowing more freely through their lungs, as if the blood was moving more smoothly through their veins. |
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Andrew: |
The problem was that over the course of his long and successful career, he himself became extremely wealthy, deeply unhappy, and died. |
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James: |
There was no one who could minister to him in his last days. He was as ill as you could possibly get from money, and indeed was quite capable of diagnosing himself as dying of wealth, and yet, without having trained an apprentice or one to come after him, there was no one who could cure him. He died sad, despondent, very, very wealthy, but utterly ill. |
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Josephine |
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Andrew: |
wanted |
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James: |
children, |
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Andrew: |
but |
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James: |
her |
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Andrew: |
husband |
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James: |
was |
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Andrew: |
emperor |
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James: |
of |
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Andrew: |
France. |
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James: |
"Not |
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Andrew: |
tonight," |
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James: |
he |
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Andrew: |
said |
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James: |
repeatedly. |
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Andrew: |
The |
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James: |
end. |
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Keyhole |
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Andrew: |
surgery |
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James: |
is |
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Andrew: |
performed |
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James: |
using |
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Andrew: |
keyholes, |
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James: |
which |
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Andrew: |
are |
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James: |
available |
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Andrew: |
from |
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James: |
B&Q |
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Andrew: |
and |
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James: |
similar |
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Andrew: |
retailers. |
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Judith |
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James: |
went |
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Andrew: |
to |
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James: |
Cardiff |
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Andrew: |
for |
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James: |
her |
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Andrew: |
sister's |
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James: |
wedding. |
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Andrew: |
It |
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James: |
was |
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Andrew: |
a |
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James: |
beautiful |
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Andrew: |
weekend |
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James: |
full |
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Andrew: |
of |
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James: |
dancing, |
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Andrew: |
sunshine, |
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James: |
and |
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Andrew: |
happy |
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James: |
bridesmaids. |
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Andrew: |
The |
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bride |
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Andrew: |
herself |
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James: |
was |
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Andrew: |
sick, |
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James: |
and |
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Andrew: |
vomited |
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James: |
all |
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Andrew: |
over |
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James: |
the |
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Andrew: |
vicar. |
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James: |
The |
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end. |
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Victor |
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James: |
went |
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Andrew: |
to |
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James: |
war |
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Andrew: |
and |
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James: |
fought |
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Andrew: |
bravely |
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James: |
time |
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and |
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James: |
time |
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Andrew: |
again. |
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James: |
When |
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he |
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James: |
returned, |
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Andrew: |
he |
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James: |
discovered |
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Andrew: |
his |
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country |
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Andrew: |
had |
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changed |
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and |
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he |
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no |
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James: |
longer |
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belonged. |
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James: |
The |
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end. |
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James: |
Now, Abigail the Mistress Milliner. |
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Andrew: |
Abigail was a milliner, and made the finest hats in the kingdom. |
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James: |
She was renowned from city to city. The aristocracy would always use Abigail's hats, or risk the disapproval of their peers. |
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Andrew: |
She was totally dedicated to her craft. It was her life's work, and every fiber of her being, every drop of her blood was dedicated to the making of hats. |
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James: |
Since she had passed from apprentice to journeyman to master hat maker, she had had one perfect master work in mind; the ultimate hat. |
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Andrew: |
It was a hat that she knew once she had made it, there could be no better hat made by human hand until the end of time. |
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James: |
She had resolved at the tender age of twenty-two to dedicate her life to creating the best hats she always could while always striving towards the perfect hat. |
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Andrew: |
It was rumored that she kept in her safe at the back, behind the box in which she kept her money and other valuables, a small box in which she was working on a secret project. |
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James: |
Many rumors were started about the project. Many rumors were started about the safe and about the other things that she had done to protect her most vital and important secrets. |
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Andrew: |
Other milliners throughout the kingdom were jealous, suspicious, and met together one evening in the back room of a dusty tavern to discuss their suspicion. |
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James: |
One of them, Brian the Hatter, was convinced that she had already created the ultimate hat, but was withholding it for fear that others would copy her work. |
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Andrew: |
"There is only one way for us to find out, brothers and sisters," he said, "and that is, we must take possession of the box within the safe." |
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James: |
So began the most delicate planning. Milliners around the country contriving a way to steal a box from within a sealed safe that even the most dedicated cat burglar would have had difficulty getting near. |
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Andrew: |
"Let us hold a festival," they proposed. "Yes, let us hold some kind of celebration, some distraction, some occasion on which everybody's back will be turned." |
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James: |
They worked their connections long and hard, and finally were able to persuade some lady of the court, and through her some gentleman of the court, and through him some knight of the court, and through him, some lady of the bedchamber, and ultimately to the king and queen themselves that there should be a grand banquet where all the greatest people of the land would come, and of course the desire for the best hats would be unrivaled throughout history. |
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Andrew: |
So it was that in the following days and weeks as the banquet was made ready that there were queues around the block to every suit maker, every boot maker, and every hat maker in the kingdom as more and more finery was demanded so that everybody could appear at their very best at this once-in-a-lifetime feast to be given by the royal family. |
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James: |
Of course, nowhere were the queues longer nor more densely packed than outside the shop of Abigail the Milliner. For many months, she serviced the next person who came through the door, measuring them, measuring their head, considering the weight of their brow and the movement of their lips and of their nose, and taking into account the other clothing that was being made for them. Day and night, she would work in the back, making hats from the measurements she had taken. |
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Andrew: |
Each customer demanded a hat finer than the one that the customer before had received, and so it was that after a lifetime of training, even she was nearing the end of her store of creative energy as each masterpiece, slightly better than the one before, went out the door in its beautifully wrapped box. |
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James: |
Meanwhile, Brian the Hatter and his cohorts were plotting how to get inside the safe. |
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Andrew: |
"Would it be better for us to cut a hole in the wall and slide it out into a side street, or cut a hole in the floor and let it down into the vaults of the cellars or the sewers below?" |
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James: |
"Perhaps we should cut through the top of the building and employ a crane or some small children with rope to haul it up high into the gables and from there escape across the rooftops of the city." |
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Andrew: |
"May I make a suggestion?" Came a voice from the back of the room. |
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"Of course, go ahead brother. Tell us your suggestion." |
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"What we should use is the psychology of the artist." |
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James: |
Well, they were all very impressed with this idea, even though most of them didn't really understand, and they voluntarily gave up control to the owner of the voice, Mr. Jim Blacklock. |
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Andrew: |
"The true artist is only satisfied when his or her craft is applied as close to the standard of perfection as it is possible for human endeavor to reach. Each person has demanded a hat more superior than the one before. How many more hats can this woman make before she is forced to reveal the greatest hat of all time?" |
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James: |
The hatters, from their conniving congregation, went out back into the land and plied their connections and persuaded the lords and ladies who had got early hats from Abigail the Milliner to go back for better ones now that there were better ones available to their peers. The line once more became long and winding throughout the city, and Abigail, working as hard as she ever had, wracked her brains for more ideas to top the last ones that she had put out. |
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Andrew: |
Finally, when the line had dwindled to one person, and that person had been handed their finely-wrapped box and left and the door swung closed and the little bell rang and she was left alone, she knew that she was spent. She had no more hats available for her to make. It would be impossible for her to service another customer, and indeed there were no more customers. Everybody owned a hat of hers who had a head to wear a hat on. |
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James: |
Just then, there was a knock at the door. |
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Andrew: |
"Who could this be?" She thought to herself. "A customer who had left behind a pair of gloves, or wanted a duplicate invoice for tax purposes." |
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James: |
She got out of her chair and felt her way across the dark shop front and opened the door. In front of her was the king. |
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Andrew: |
"Your majesty." She said, and curtsied low, for she was a very correct lady. |
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James: |
"Abigail," began the king. |
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Andrew: |
"If your majesty has come in search of a hat, I'm afraid I must disappoint you, for I have no more hats left to make." |
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James: |
"Come, come," said the king, for he was a kindly man, but also used to getting his own way. "Come, come, you would not disappoint your monarch." |
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Andrew: |
"It would pain me to do so, sir, but I really do not see how I could supply a hat finer yet than any that I had supplied without ... " |
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James: |
There Abigail stopped. |
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Andrew: |
"Without ... ?" Said the king. |
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James: |
"I should not have spoken." Said Abigail. |
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Andrew: |
"Yet you did speak," said the king, "and now you must surely explain yourself." |
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James: |
"The only way, your majesty, that I could hope to top the previous hats that I have made for all in the land and to satisfactorily clothe your royal head, would be to open the book that I have been keeping these last forty years as I have worked on perhaps an impossible dream of the perfect hat." |
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Andrew: |
At this, the king's eyes lit up, for he was a man who liked the finest things, and the idea of owning the most perfect hat that had ever been made or could ever be made appealed very deeply to his regal heart. |
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James: |
"I must have it." He said, and left. |
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Andrew: |
Abigail wept, for she knew that the hour had come where either she must make the most perfect hat of all time, or she must leave this place that she called home, abandon her shop, her career, her profession, and begin a new life somewhere else, for no one had ever successfully denied the king his wish and lived. |
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James: |
Uncertain of what her choice would be, she stole back to the back room and opened the safe, and within it moved past the money boxes and the certificates of birth and death and the other precious objects that were necessary for a satisfactory and legal life in this complicated time, and at the back pulled out a small tin which contained folded paper of her notes over the years. |
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Andrew: |
She reviewed the scraps, shuffled them, paced, lit a fire, made tea, stoked the fire, paced, shuffled the papers, and so continued through the night, all the way through to the crow of the cockerel and the rising of the sun. |
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James: |
She was still pacing when her young apprentice entered the shop in the morning, expecting to be up and at the business before she was. He was surprised, and did not attempt to hide it. |
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Andrew: |
"Mistress Abigail, whatever is the matter? You seem troubled, agitated, as if you haven't slept." |
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James: |
"I haven't!" She cried. "I can't sleep. I cannot sleep until I ... Until I at least try." |
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Andrew: |
So it was that they embarked together on making sense of the diagrams that she had drawn, and little by little began to compose the finest hat that had ever been made. |
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James: |
There was every conceivable material, |
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Andrew: |
and yet somehow, even though it was composed of parts as diverse of silk and leather, it formed a beautifully coordinated whole in which every part was neither too much nor too little, but in perfect proportion and place. |
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James: |
Spent, they sat on the floor and looked up at the perfect hat. The ultimate hat. The end, indeed, to millinery itself. |
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Andrew: |
As to the rest of the story, well of course the king collected it and wore it and achieved universal admiration. The great feast was, exactly as it promised to be, huge, memorable, spectacular, once-in-a-lifetime experience, and Abigail was, as you would expect, done. Done with her career. There was no way that she could continue now. |
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James: |
As for the other hat makers, well, walk down a high street in your town any day you like and try to find a milliner's shop. They're all gone now. All gone. |
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I've been James, and I'm here with Andrew. These stories were recorded without advanced planning and lightly edited for the discerning listener. Join us next time for more Totally Made-Up Tales. |
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Andrew [outtake]: |
"Would it be better," they said, "if we cut a hole in the floor and let it down into the core of the earth?" No, no, that's a ludicrous idea. Sorry. |