Snap

Written as a storytelling project, for Toastmasters.  I can’t remember if I ever delivered it, though … “Good evening respected esteemed gentlefolk  … No that’s not right.” “Lords and Ladies!  NO!” Would you envy me my task of being asked to deliver a speech …an inspirational speech … at a wedding … in these Elizabethan times?  Where virtually every guest is an actor or playright, and me, a mere meat trader? I am sitting here in my quarters, at a loss as to what to write.  I should have said “on yer ‘orse guv, I am not trained in the manner of the theatre”, but I lost a jousting competition and therefore giving this speech is my losing fate. You see, I am one of three brothers of the bride, and one of us had to volunteer, so we decided by contest. Now, unlike my brothers I am not a first-rate thespian.  I despise the manner they address me with, such disdain for my lowly profession.  Edward - the oldest of us three brothers – was teasing me when I lost the contest, by giving me a copy of his latest play – an epic, comedic interpretation of the Battle of Hastings.  Absolutely terrible.  I left it by the hearth, hoping it would accidently burn. So here I am, dipping my quill over and over but I still can’t even get the introduction right!  I turn my head to the heavens and ask “God will you please send some inspiration!”  And then I’m distracted and annoyed when I’m interrupted by a knock on my chamber door. “Halloween present for you!”  It’s my messenger, and what’s this, a Halloween present? Sat there in the doorway is a box.  A box that is growling.  And there is a sealed message attached.  The message says “For you, from a friend.  The gift contained within is not quite complete, but it will treat you well as long as you are polite.  It’s name is Snap.”  Oh exasperation, it’s my friend George, who is always bringing strange beasts back from his voyages abroad.  This could be anything, a baby tiger, a young pterodactyl, a machine given life.  And what does “not quite complete” mean?  I am worried. But daintily lifting the lid a fraction of an inch with my stick, I see the little face of a pure white bull terrier puppy.  But it ain’t cute … it is absolutely livid.  I stand there paralyzed as this thing barks obscenities and tosses its head around in abject anger.  All its movements appear to be in double speed, this is one speedy creature.  And I finally understand the meaning of “not quite complete”, as it seems to have lost an ear in some battle. So my wedding speech has completely left my mind as I focus on the task of what to do with my new friend Snap.  I throw the lid of the box aside with my stick and run away into the next room as fast as I can.  And in a heartbeat, it makes a beeline for my ankles, as I’m searching for a place to hide.  I feel needle teeth sink into my flesh and I’m in absolute terror!  Where do I go?  Up!  Onto the writing desk, I feel my perfectly white manuscript crumple under me as I find refuge, and start to assess the situation. Snap is doing semicircular circuits of my bureau under me, tossing his head around, and barking demonically.  Hateful dog!  So all I can do is lie and wait until his attention is caught elsewhere.  I don’t have to wait long.  He notices my best ruff, which I unfortunately left in the corner of the room on the floor.  Snap runs to it, fast as a cheetah, and instantly starts to eat it.  NO!   BAD DOG!  But he doesn’t speak my language, he probably only understands the tongue of demons. I continue to wait, on my bureau, until this beast falls asleep or something.  But then I have an idea – earlier today we were caring for the hawks which we keep on the grounds.  Possibly, I may still have some cuttings of beef heart in a pouch in my tunic left over from feeding them.  Perhaps I can tame Snap with a choice cut of meat? I gingerly hold a piece of it aloft over the edge of the table, and Snap must have moved faster than God could allow as soon as it was out of the pouch.  There was a vigourous snapping of teeth, and an unearthly growling suddenly from below me where my hand was, and the meat was wrenched from my grasp.  I was so shocked – since the whole thing happened so quickly – that I left my hand, my juicy, fleshy hand dangling right there in Snaps biting range.  I was about to whip it back to safety when there was an altogether curious sensation.  Snap was licking my hand.  I felt like I’d ended a war.  Less than a second after he started licking though he rushed back to the corner where the demolished ruff was – which would become ‘Snap’s Corner’ – and fixed me with hateful eyes as if to dare me to challenge this hard-won truce. Over the course of several weeks, the relationship between Snap – “the white demon” - and I hardly progressed from this point of mutual respect, but I had finished writing my inspirational speech, ready for the wedding which was the very next day. That night though, I had a bad dream.  I was at the wedding, and was standing up at the banquet table to give my speech,.  I would lift my manuscript to read – the manuscript I have pored over in the shadow of Snap the murderous Bull Terrier – and it would be blank.  Pure white, blank manuscript.  And I would look back up at the gentlemen of actor nobility and they would begin to smirk.  And I would begin to cry.  And just as I started to do that, there would be a ginormous buzzing sound from the other side of the room.  And there would be a huge flying thing, with black and yellow stripes, but the head of a white bull terrier.  And then I woke up with a start because Snap was circling my bed trying to jump in, presumably to kill me. I noticed the room was lighter than it should be.  Ahhhh the wedding – I’m going to be late!  Did Snap know to wake me – is he really becoming a friend to me after all? I make my way painstakingly across my room – climbing over wardrobes and chairs to eventually leap out of my chamber and leave Snap locked inside.  Too slow though, he shoots through the gap in the door like a ferret and races downstairs. Damn.  Well all I can do is get ready as fast as I can and run to get a carriage to take me to the wedding. A small time later I’m stood by the door, doing a mental inventory check.  “Tunic, cloak, pouch … ahh manuscript!”  So I run to fetch it from where I left it and … ahhhh.  It’s gone.  I’d left it on a low table, where could it possibly have gone?  So I close my eyes and focus in order to think.  It’s only when I calm my mind like this that I hear a strange sound.  A muffled snarling, scurrying, tearing-of-paper kind of sound.  Snap was eating my manuscript as fast as caninely possible. Oh no.  Of all the tortures I could face, not this.  Snap – you are a demon!  BAD DOG!  I walk into the room where he is but he looks back at me with fearsome and murderous intent and I can only back off. Well, I will have to go without it.  Maybe I’ll remember my lines.  Maybe not.  It’s all academic now. I quickly board a carriage and try to recall my speech.  Looking out the window on several occasions I’m sure I see a flash of white … must be that I can’t get that dog out of my mind. I arrive at the wedding.  There are musicians, ale, and a feast of peacock and sweetmeats.  And of course lots of actors, which made me feel very inadequate. By this point I’d forgotten about the dog and all my attention was on the speech.  How do I open again?  Who do I address for the story about that hilarious time when we got lost while hunting?  It will come to me.  I hope. And my time comes.  Cheered on, perhaps all too gleefully by the actors in the corner who no doubt want to see me fail, I rise from my seat at the head of the table. Blank. I stare out at all the faces, hoping for inspiration but my mind has deserted me.  One of the actors starts to smile, and people start to shift in their seats.  I’m reminded of the nightmare, where I look down at a pure white manuscript. And then there is a huge commotion in the next room.  Shouts and warnings, and a mad clattering of tables and chairs.  What’s going on?  And then the great doors burst open and I am for the moment extremely confused what I was seeing. The first thought in my mind was ‘someone’s thrown a snowball’.  But it’s too early into winter, it has only just begun.  And the snowball continues to surge its way, seemingly in mid-air directly towards me. I don’t know what to do, it all was happening so quickly. But then, the snowball starts to grow legs, and a tail, and a single ear … Snap, what are you doing here? But the white creature winging its way towards me seems too big for Snap.  And that’s when I see the perfectly preserved manuscript in his jaws and I remember my older brother’s Battle of Hastings play, which Snap must have enjoyed greatly. He skids to a standstill, drops the script at my feet, and starts jumping up at the food on the table. I retrieve the paper, face the audience with an enormous grin and start to read. “Good fellow gentlemen and ladies.  Let me tell you a story about how our enemies are often our friends in disguise” …