The Plan Emerges

In order for the reader to understand the diabolical subtilety of Abagail's plan, it is necessary to explain that a very strange tree grows in Chaladon and on this strange tree grows a very strange "fruit" called a Flutter Toot.

When they become ripe, Flutter Toots end up looking somewhat like a very small basketball that has lost most of its air with one or more tiny, little, horn-looking things growing from the flat side. These are the "tooters." The Flutter Toot is hollow, so that when it is squeezed, air rushes out through the horns and makes a "toot."

Shown below is a three-toot Tooter.

Each "tooter" makes a different sound and the results are simply astonishing. A two-tooter might loudly snort SHEEE-FRUUP, a three-tooter might FWEEEE-BRAAT-FOOP, all in a low, fluttery key like a sousaphone with water in its valves. One might describe Flutter Toots as organic whoopie cushions and many find them enormously entertaining.

Abagail herself had been a victem a couple of weeks earlier, when she made an unexpected visit to General Bragon's quarters and sat in his chair, not realizing of course that his son had planted a Flutter Toot as a surprise for his father. Fortunately, she had an opportunity to demonstrate that she did indeed possess a sense of humor and nobody was beheaded.

Perhaps it was this incident that gave her the idea.

In any case the fateful day of the final confrontation arrived. The invading Bloogan and Garbonian armies arrived on the fields on the outskirts of Bedab, the Celadonian capitol. King Laderbin sent a fomal ultimatum written none to grammatically on a piece of tanned goat hide:

To Queen April and all peepals of Celadonia: I hearby declare Celadonia and Riptornika to be new provinces of greater Bloogastan. In two days time the righteous and invincible army of Bloogastan will occupy the city of Bedab, which in future we will name Pig Ditch.

Bloogastan is orderly nation of peace-loving peepals, and according to teachings of our prophet, we extend hand of friendship to new citizens of greater Bloogastan. We want all citizens of our united and righteous nation to live together in harmonious peace and prosperity.

Bloogastan is also a nation of law-abiding, orderly peepals and our founder teaches no peace and social harmony can be unless all members of peepals obey laws. Therefore, let it be known that any resistance to peaceful occupation of Celadonia and Riptornika is declared an illegal action and any such unlawful resistance will be dealt with very quick and harshly.

New citizens of Greater Bloogastan, in the interests of lasting peace, you must accept teachings of founder and submit to the laws of our righteous society. Together, we will make happy life based on the cooperation of master and servant. Otherwise will be swift trial by lawful military tribunal, followed by quick punishment. Do not listen to any peepals who make dissention or resistance!

“The proclamation was signed by commanding general and keeper of the faith, King Laderbin of Bloogastan.”

“Such rot,” muttered Queen Abagail, “it’s quite obvious, - - nutty old Laderbin has been listening to those crazy preachers again. Notice also the illiterate old fool can't even spell my name correctly. Ah well, gentlemen, tomorrow we will all earn our salaries.” And with that, she retired to her private quarters, leaving to General Fragem and the General Staff the problem of working out the details for defense of the city.

Life was not exactly cheerful in the tents of the other three kings on the night before the great battle. A Bloogan envoy had visited Clutch with the same ultimatum given to Abagail, and a little later, General Fragem’s messenger arrived with the orders for deployment of Riptorian troops. Now, he lay beside his wife in their huge bed unable to sleep, muttering to himself as much as to his wife.

"Nothing gone right - - stupid dog boys lost the dog herd - - miserable bears all run off - - cavalry reduced to foot soldiers. Just think about it, the pride of Riptornika on foot. Should have fired that grinning, fool general of the rock thrower brigade today, when he suggested the cavalry could carry his rocks. Should fire every last one of those damn incompetents.

I swear, don’t know who I hate more, the smart-alec Celadonian farmers who are killing my bears or the blasted Bloogars who started this war. Who cares about "blue" or "green," they’re both wrong anyway because everyone knows red is better. All of them are idiots - - how did I get into this mess?"

His long-suffering wife simply thought to herself, "Son of God, give me asleep."

There were no celebrations in the brown-skinned Garbonian encampment either. King Bengal also had received his orders from Laderbin and had given the orders for the troops to move into position alongside the Bloogan foot soldiers. As they had moved out, no one had cheered, and even more worrisome, no one had even smiled. The memories of their recent, crushing defeat were too fresh for comfort.

Sitting beside the bedside table in their tent while sipping his evening cup of herbal tea, the tired king spoke softly to his wife, "you understand of course that tomorrow thousands of brave young men will die for no good reason. Oh, excuse me, - - we will prove once and for all that the people of Chaladon are complete fools." He sipped and stared into the cup. Finally, he leaned closer and whispered, "You realize, dearest, that all four nations believe in almost exactly the same morality. The problem is that each race is willing to kill the others over who has the best reason for not killing. Truly, We are surrounded by nincompoops."

"Come now, dear, this war is not just about ‘who told whom what to believe.’ Aren’t you forgetting how the Riptornicans stole our lands, - - with full approval of the Celadonians I might add."

"Right. Three hundred years ago, some red-faced fool, helped along by a green-faced idiot, stole our land, so that now, I have to kill his great, great, great, great, grandson in order to get even with a guy who has been dead for 300 years. With logic like that it’s easy to understand how we Garbonians got the reputation as the intelligent race." This last was whispered with a voice dripping with sarcasm. "No, dearest, I think maybe there is something in the drinking water of Chaladon that infects all of us with the disease of stupidity. Tomorrow, all of us will do our duty - - blindly spilling blood in an orgy of patriotic foolishness towards the goal, - - of what?"

Sleep also did not come quickly in the sleeping tent of the blue-skinned Bloogan warrior king. The righteous king was uneasy. Try as he might, he could not get out of his head the awful defeat inflicted on his Garbonian allies by the Celadonians. "How could they have so completely crushed them," he thought to himself. "What makes Celadonians so smart - - and why is their technology always so much better than ours? Do they have some new tricks up their sleeve? Of course they do - - but what?"

His wife wasn’t very helpful. "I suppose you know best dear, but it seems to me it wasn’t a very good idea to let those priests write your ultimatum to Queen Abagail. What if the Celadonians told you they planned to rename our capitol city Pig Ditch? Wouldn’t you fight even harder?"

He glared at his wife, but of course she was right, he thought to himself. "Those fanatic fools have insulted them so they will fight twice as hard." Then he remembered the crazed rantings from General Stella about demons jumping from holes in the ground where they hurled magic missiles that made his Double Snufflers go crazy. "Good Lord above, do they have some kind of mysterious magic that will make our horses go mad?"

"Why didn’t we just leave the Celadonians alone - - Blue is better than green, but who really cares? - - Maybe better if both of us agreed to leave each other alone. - - Well, too late now, - - it would be cowardly to back down. Good heavens, what have I got myself into," he thought as he finally drifted off to a troubled sleep.

Unlike the other three rulers, Abagail slept soundly because she had a plan. Two days earlier she had dispatched a top secret expedition to the high mountain valley where Flutter Toot trees grow. They had returned with more than 100 choice "toots" and she had arranged for her private seamstress to sew them up in a large, green pillow, the "mother of all whoopie cushions." How do we know these details? Simply put, my own daughter, Lindal, was appointed Royal Cushion Bearer, (see chapter seven in the separate account, Chaladon, First Contact.).

The generals had insisted that Abagail wear the ceremonial gold armor to the battlefield, that had been worn by Celadonian kings for hundreds of years and by Abagail herself since she became queen.

Unfortunately, she was quite a bit "rounder" than her kingly ancestors, and even rounder than the had been ten years ago, so this had made necessary an emergency visit by the royal metal pounder the night before the battle in order to "expand" the armor enough to fit the rolly polly queen. She was rather pleased that the expansion had distorted the Hop Toad so it appeared to be grabbing at her boobs. "That'll drive prissy old Laderbin nuts," she thought to heself.

Generals Fragem and Bragon arrived at the stroke of seven to escort their queen to the battle. Worried about today's momentous battle, both had hardly slept at all, but now, one look at Abagail lifted their spirits. They were proud of their queen this day because she seemed so totally self-confident and optimistic—exactly what they and the soldiers needed as they faced bravely what might be their last day of life. This wise, but tough old lady symbolized everything good about Celadonia and they were prepared to follow her and die for their country.

They were puzzeled, however, to see Lindal dressed in an outlandish purple cape and hat, carrying what appeared to be a substantial green pillow. Abagail merely brushed aside their questions. "It's a very warm day and I might want to rest. You wouldn't want your queen to sit on the ground, would you? I've appointed Lindal to be my cushion bearer. I mean, good grief, gentlemen, you can't expect ME to carry that crazy thing?" Both generals shrugged as generals are expected to do in the presence of their queen, both thinking the same thing: she does look very "royal" this morning and the troops will love her so let's not quibble about her small foibles.

The "royal cushion bearer" was all seriousness because Abagail had confided a state secret to her the night before. She confessed that she had experienced several fainting spells the past few weeks, nothing serious, but this was confidential because such news would not be good for the morale of the soldiers. Lindal was instructed to stay close by at all times, and if Abagail signaled by wagging her baton behind her, she was to place the cushion on the ground so the queen would not "fall on her butt" in front of the soldiers. Lindal took her responsibilities very seriously.

So, they sat themselves in the open royal carriage pulled by six handsome boodles, and trotted off to war, Lindal and the queen in the back, facing forward, and the two generals in the front, facing backward. Large crowds of proud citizens cheered them as they trotted through the city streets, many wondering who was that girl dressed in purple.