Major Chaos came here one of those hot days. I was washing the floor, wearing old clothes, when he knocked on my door. Since I don't have many visits, I let him in. At first, he seemed like a soldier, but upon reflection I realized he was a big green frog. It may sound peculiar, but believe me: a man who jumps from an airplane can't look any better than that.
He said he had seen my name downstairs and liked the sound of it. I thought it strange to visit a woman because of her name, but I said nothing. Everyone has his reasons. Remembering my neighbor, arrested while trying to stab another man, I decided that his visit was neither a crime, nor as weird as it might seem.
Since Major Chaos had made it all the way down from the sky to the earth, he was very hungry. I noticed the interest with which he glanced at the oranges in the kitchen. I threw him one, and he, smiling, caught it with one hand while grabbing a chair with the other. I didn't know what to do with the bucket, full of soapy water, so I kicked it and the water washed the floor. Major Chaos pulled a camera out of his pocket and took a picture of the wet floor. I thought he might take one of me too, so I arranged my clothes, but he put the camera back in.
While he sliced the orange, I stared at his froggy face. In his way he was attractive. But not in mine. I decided we should maintain a platonic relationship. He never protested or discussed the subject. Well... I guess he simply agreed.
He said: “Don't believe in half of what you see or in half of what you hear.” Then, he told me his story. It was midnight when he had joined the troops. Shadowy types crowded the meeting place. Some seemed rich, others poor, but all had that terminal look about them. The men knew they would challenge the natural forces that keep men on the ground. Major Chaos helped by pushing a few men out of the airplane. He hoped they made it back to the earth. He thought he saw one of them, an extremely light man, being drawn into space, but he couldn't be sure. When Major Chaos jumped, he held his guitar and played a slow song.
I remembered hearing a familiar tune coming from far away the night before.
“You were better than many famous musicians,” I said. He finished his orange, ate the sandwich I prepared for him and had coffee. Later, he slept in front of the television, and I turned on the ventilator.
He has been here ever since. Nothing has changed between us, and I like it this way. Major Chaos is my piece of paradise. We clean the house and pay bills together. Sometimes we talk.
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Previously published in the anthology The Flash
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Love this, Av.
I'm glad you do! Thanks!
Thanks, Meg!
Wow, Avital. I enjoyed this a lot. I really (especially) like the ending.
I think it's great to tell stories about big green frogs. I somehow thought of that Murakami story "Super Frog Saves Tokyo."
The ending is lovely.
this is great!
I have to confess, I ended up seeing him exactly as he might have been illustrated by the Alsacian writer/illustrator of erotica and kids' picture books, Tomi Ungerer. This guy is troubled and nuts and out of fashion, I think, w/ this generation of parents, who pay a little closer attention to what they give their kids. I pay closer attention too, but we have all his stuff. He's awesome. Anyway he has a parachuting frog in his book, I Am Papa Snap and These are My Favorite No Such Stories.
Thanks Kimmie, Marcy and Scott! I'd really like to read "Super Frog Saves Tokyo." Murakami is wonderful. And Scott, I hope that the illustrations for kids and for erotica are in different books...Which kind are I Am Papa Snap and These are My Favorite No Such Stories?
They are, roughly. In different books. But in one, The Beast of Mr. Racine, the titular character, who's a retired tax collector, has physical erotica on his mantel, naked people in embrace carved into the base of a lamp and such. And in Papa Snap, there's other weird stuff. This one story is supposed to be very simple, about a guy whose clock is set wrong and who therefore always misses the morning train. BUt in the illustration, there's a woman on the tracks in a phone booth sobbing, and her baby outside alone in its carriage, terrified and screaming.
It sounds as if the conscious mind is talking while the subconscious is doing its work by drawing. I'd definitely love to see it, but I don't think I'd like children to receive such strange subconscious messages.
Sendak was his hero, for bringing the unconscious back into kids' lit. But Sendak's unconscious was more managable, maybe (this depends on your p.o.v; my wife's a sociologist and uses Sendak--unflatteringly, he'd probably think--in lectures on gender formation). But Ungerer--what to say? When he paints, he paints for real. In Beast of Monsieur Racine, completely unrelated to the characters/story, there's a vagrant w/ beet-red eyes, a German war medal pinned to his chest, and something bloody and dripping in his sack. Now that my kid's a little older, I don't get that one out so much, I admit. But in general the drawings/paintings have real soul; a kid will stare and stare at them and not let you turn the page... RE: Major Chaos: there are probably other reasons I thought of Ungerer, besides the coincidence of parachuting frogs. How he looks one way "at first" and then different "upon reflection." And this: "Everyone has his reasons."
I'm glad Major Chaos reminded you of such a complex combination of told and seen/ untold and unseen.
The drawing in Beast of Monsieur Racine sounds odd-you could say its anti-fascist, but you could also take it as a non-judgmental picture of a murderer. Such quality drawings as you describe can work in many ways-including, as your wife suggest, a subconscious message about the gender's roles. But there are so many influences coming from everywhere that it needs to be very strong to actually mark them.
When my children were very young I tried to protect them from all sorts of violence, vulgar media and sex. Today, as teens, they tell me they that their education was extremely erudite. But it's not that I locked them in a library or obliged them to listen to great composers...They simply didn't play with plastic firearms, didn't watch soap operas or cheap TV shows, didn't buy cd's with sexual or prejudiced content and so on.
Either way, they are great kids with many friends, as they have always been.
Looking back, I am not sure anymore that it was so important to fill their lives with substantial content and avoid bad influences. Maybe they'd discover what's important and form their values anyway.
I love the last line.
A Fable for Our Times, Avital. A casual tale, told with a certain immediacy. Love the image of the Major floating to earth while strumming a sad song on his guitar. Bravo!
Thank you, Corey and more thanks, ramon. I am so sorry I'm so late to it.
A great fable and loved Major Chaos!
Thank you David! You brought me a smile at the right moment.