THE APOCRYPHAL TAILLES: FROM “THE COMPLEATE ILLUSTRATED LOST FOLKE TAILLES OF PIPPIDUFKA”

Pu’ud OR

The Voice of The Gooseberry God

PU’UD is the earliest reference to the Gooseberry

in the Tailles of Pippidufka. The Gooseberry figures strongly in many of these tales because of the unusual qualities the villagers ascribed to the fruit: an aphrodisiac as well as a medium of communication with the spirit world. The stories that involved the Gooseberry could be either humorous, as in Gnittyl and Her Would-be Wooer, or tragic, as in The Fortune Teller’s Premature Demise.

HAVING BORROWED ZWAIBAK THE HORSE AND A WAGON FROM TÜSSI THE FARMER, PU’UD LOADED THE HOOCHE AND RELUCTANTLY SET OFF {9}

ON THE EDGE OF THE SLIMY BOG

ONE fine summer day, Swig the Moonshiner hired

Pu’ud to deliver his latest batch of hooche to one of his regular customers, Dabytt the Peat Cutter who lived by a pond, on the edge of the Slimy Bog, all the way around on the other side of the Great Dark Forest.

And so, on that fine summer day, having borrowed Zwaibak the horse and a wagon from Tüssi the Farmer, Pu’ud loaded the hooche and reluctantly set off.

I say “reluctantly” because Pu’ud had a frightful aversion to the forest. His qualms being a result of the terrifying tales he was told as a child of the forest’s ogres, witches and spells, which harum-scarum still affected him as an adult. So, as a rule, Pu’ud would take the long road around to avoid the forest.

This day was, somehow, different.

Pu’ud felt buoyant: It was bright and sunny, the sky was clear, the trees were green, and the birds were singing.

There was, also — we must add— the pleasant anticipation he felt, at the thought of the potato pudding pie, his favorite, that his wife Gnittyl had made for him and which was already cooling upon their windowsill.

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So, feeling more or less at peace with the world, Pu’ud took a bold and daring step and turned the wagon onto the rough-hewn road that led straight through the center of the forest.

It was cool inside the woods. The sun cast a dappled pattern through the leaves and onto the forest floor.

Pu’ud said aloud “Such a pleasant day!” — his customary ritual when trying to reassure himself, and, as often was the case, any lingering anxieties he might have had were instantly dissipated.

Nonetheless, Pu’ud added—thinking of the load he was carrying—“Just a sip from one of Zwig’s jugs won’t be missed!”

So, he took just such a sip, a wee sip, a tiny sip, from one of the jugs in the wagon, replaced the cork and drove on.

A while later, Pu’ud said aloud — to no one in particular (there being “no one in particular” but the steed Zwaibak, who trudged ahead stoically)—“Perhaps another sip from another jug wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

And so he took such a sip from another jug.

And then from another… …and another… …and another…

…And yet another (for good measure!)

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The Golden Shekel of Siddi Ba’aaka ALSO KNOWN AS

The Golden Drachma of Pippidufka OR

The Golden Rupee of Pei Pei du fu Kwa

IN THE waning of the light, a black phaeton—dark

curtains drawn tight; huge iron-rimmed wheels; pulled by four ebony stallions—sped through The Greate Emptiness upon a road that passed by a village so inconsequential that it was nowhere to be found on The Official Greate Mappes of the Realme—One Copper.

A BLACK PHAETON—DARK CURTAINS DRAWN TIGHT; HUGE IRON-RIMMED WHEELS; PULLED BY FOUR EBONY STALLIONS—SPED THROUGH THE GREATE EMPTINESS { 23 }

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MANY A TRAVELER on foot, even in the light of

the day, might pass by the ramshackle overgrown ruins by the roadside with no awareness that they were the outbuildings of a living village.

So too must the important personage (or personages) inside the carriage traveling from-who-knows-where-to-godknows-where (towards a rendezvous or on a secret mission, on the run from injustice or from justice) have been oblivious to the passing landscape (rapt as they must have been in melancholic musing, agreeable anticipation, troublesome sleep, violent fornication, devious plotting, and, or, simply drunk) and thus unobserved, unnoticed, the village of Siddi Ba’aaka loomed closer, drew near and then was gone.

The phaeton flew past a large, flat-topped boulder — or “The Rock”, the name by which it was simply known to the villagers. (Which served, from no excess of foresight or town planning on the part of the rustics, as the generally-agreed-uponde-facto-village-commons.)

Upon “The Rock”, Ha’amidah the Kif Smoker was, sitting or rather more accurately perching, earning his epithet by finishing off a gourd of Abu the Kif Farmer’s finest blend.

UPON “THE ROCK”, HA’AMIDAH THE KIF SMOKER WAS, SITTING OR RATHER MORE ACCURATELY PERCHING, EARNING HIS EPITHET BY FINISHING OFF A GOURD OF ABU THE KIF FARMER’S FINEST BLEND. { 25 }

Once upon a time,

while passing through the high mountains, a tumbrel cart carrying a great black bear, chosen to be put on display in the Emperor’s Menagerie, overturned while traversing a narrow pass. The animal escaped and made his way to the secluded village of Pei Pei du fu Kwa — from Fortune of Pei Pei du fu Kwa

Once upon a time,

a proud mountain bear captured and trained to guard the Sultan’s hareem, escaped during a violent sandstorm while crossing the desert. The beast found his way to the isolated village of Siddi Ba’aaka.

— from Jewel of Siddi Ba’aaka

ONCE-UPON-A-TIME

TREASURE, AS THEY NAMED THE BEAR—NO ONE REMEMBERED WHY— SOON BECAME A FIXTURE OF DAILY LIFE IN THE VILLAGE. DRESSED IN SIMPLE WORKMAN’S CLOTHES { 42 }

Once-upon-a-time

(as-these-tailles-are-told) a big brown bear escaped from a traveling circus and found his way to Pippidufka where, due to the villagers’ tradition of hospitality as(as-these-tailles-are-told) well as their feeling of kinship with the plight the large gentle from beast,athey hid him untiland the a big of brown bearbut escaped traveling circus circus hadtogiven up its’ search and moved on.villagers’ found his way Pippidufka where, due to the

tradition of hospitality as well as their feeling of kinship with the plight of the large but gentle beast, they hid him until the circus had given up its’ search and moved on.

TREASURE, as they named the bear — no one remem-

bered why — soon became a fixture of daily life in the village.

Dressed in simple workman’s clothes — baggy coat, tunic, pants and a small cap — he was a familiar sight, particularly in the vicinity of Mutz’s Shebeen where he could often be found participating in the Pippidufkans’ favorite “pass-the-time”: sitting upon “The Rock” (the flat boulder that marked the village commons), drinking hooche, sharing a pipe, and philosophizing about things so far from either their grasp or their ken, that they all felt able to speak their minds freely, quite secure in the knowledge that their opinions and arguments would carry no weight at all in the world at large.

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Treasure mostly listened. He was a bear of few words, known for his taciturn wit and a gentleness of spirit that endeared him to all, particularly the village children, whose number — beyond the proscenium of these pages — was more than sufficient to cause the usual mixture of mischief and merriment.

Summer passed pleasantly, and, as the season stretched into Fall, Treasure felt the inevitable call of his kind, and began to spend more and more of his time roaming the woods looking for a suitable place to use for his winter’s nap.

When his time finally came, having thus found such a spot, Treasure called all of his new friends together and explained that the exigencies of his nature would require his absence for a period of a few months.

“However,” as he conveyed to them, “I have drawn a map for you so that if some dire event befalls the village and you need to seek my help, you may find me. But, my friends, if you do have the need to seek me out, you must be very careful when you first awaken me.

“Keep your distance. For, when I am disturbed from such a sleep as I sleep, I may be a very unpleasant chap, indeed.” Nodding their understanding his friends gave him a bag of honeyed candy and smoked fish, bade him “Pleasant dreams!” And saw him off.

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The Taille of Zwaibak OR

The Rise and Fall of The Festival of The Miracle of The Great Pippidufka Crop Circles

THE RISE

PIPPIDUFKA is a one-horse Village. The steed,

whose name was Zwaibak, was absent a number of teeth as well as both testes, which loss, out of respect for his feelings, the villagers chose to attribute to his participation in one military engagement or another.

PIPPIDUFKA IS A ONE-HORSE VILLAGE. THE STEED, WHOSE NAME WAS ZWAIBAK, WAS ABSENT A NUMBER OF TEETH AS WELL AS BOTH TESTES, WHICH THE VILLAGERS CHOSE TO ATTRIBUTE TO HIS PARTICIPATION IN ONE MILITARY ENGAGEMENT OR ANOTHER. { 61 }

ONE MIGHT suppose that the absence of such

essential body parts might prove troublesome to a proud stallion. But as you may guess from his name, he was never a proud stallion: the sad but true fact is that Zwaibak’s forced celibacy did not seem to affect his behavior one jot, for Zwaibak, absent or plus the aforementioned parts, would have been an unremarkable horse in any condition: neither especially this, nor especially that.

Which suited the Villagers just fine, since, being the Villagers’ only horse, indeed only beast of burden, his duties were, precisely, neither especially this nor especially that: to plow farmer Tüssi’s fields, which was a sporadic affair at best; to pull the wagon for hayrides, courtships, funeral processions; and take small children on their traditional birthday ride; along with certain other mainly ceremonial duties.

So, for the most part the life of Zwaibak was quite mundane, ordinary and predictable.

DUTIES WERE NEITHER ESPECIALLY THIS NOR ESPECIALLY THAT: TO PULL THE WAGON FOR HAYRIDES, COURTSHIPS, FUNERAL PROCESSIONS; AND TAKE SMALL CHILDREN ON THEIR TRADITIONAL BIRTHDAY RIDE { 63 }

A NOTE ABOUT “AI VEI VEI” They are the global village’s most talked about and controversial co-workers. Legend claims “Ai Vei Vei” is a collective hallucination of the Nob Hill Guild of Upstarts “generated” during a particularly lightning-heavy Burning Man festival.

While “their” responses to my instructions were often misunderstood, forcing me to spend an enormous amount of time cleaning up after “their” work, I still would like to acknowledge Ai Vei Vei, my visual collorator(s), for “their” help in recreating the visual world of Pippidufka as I imagined it.

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“IT ALL DEPENDS WHO’S TELLING THE TAILLES” “The Compleate Illustrated Lost Folke Tailles of Pippidufka” (also known as The Lost Folke Tailles of Pei Pei Du Fu Kwa and The Lost Folke Tailles of Siddi Ba’aaka) “annotated” and “collected” in a new “translation” by Max Singer, noted “expert in Pippidufkaniana” and author of the best-selling Pippidufka for Dummies are a collection of stories about a small, isolated, backwater village, of unidentifiable geography, and no consequence; inhabited by a mixed and motley group of citizens, of uncertain ethnicity and no importance. It is, literally, a one-horse town: the name of the steed being — variously—Zwaibak, Schloom or Njuki.

It all depends who’s telling the “Tailles” “...A VAST CREATIVE, IMAGINATIVE ENTERPRISE...”

“These tales have the tone of the Arabian Nights.

Max Singer has created an entire universe with his musings which he wants the reader to imagine he re-discovered thumbing through some musty tomes.

It’s akin to creating a world like Lord of the Rings, an Arthurian Saga, Harry Potter or Game of Thrones.

And yet these tales are more down to earth, more folksy, whimsical and funny, which makes them more original. This is a vast creative, imaginative enterprise. An incredible cast of characters.”

Dr. Louis Gallo. Professor of English.

Radford University { 78 }

THE PIPPIDUFKA SERIES

The Compleate Illustrated Lost Folke Tailles of Pippidufka The Lost Village of Pippidufka [A Sherlock Holmes Mystery]

Pippidufka for Dummies The Besotted Vizier The Cleriks‘ Tailles

The Bishop of Pippidufka The Imam of Siddi Ba’aaka Lady Wu’s Revenge or The Mendicant Monk Of Pei Pei Du Fu Kwa

The Apocryphal Tailles

Pu’ud or The Voice of The Gooseberry God The Golden Shekel of Siddi Ba’aaka Treasure of Pippidufka The Taille of Zwaibak

Luug & Oog

or The Crowning of King Krone

Nipk’s Taille

or The Tax Collector of Pippidufka with Treasure of Pippidufka

TO BE ISSUED COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME { 79 }

MAX SINGER

A

WRITER, humorist, political cartoonist & satirist, photographer, designer, illustrator, painter & street artist, whose point of view across creative disciplines is always smart and unique, edgy, hip and often funny as hell.

MAX began his rise to obscurity as

an Underground Cartoonist (ala R. Crumb) for the Nola Express in New Orleans. But even those stonedout hippies were clueless as to the meaning of his work. So Max did the right thing, moved to New York & became an award-winning humorist & artist: his work was featured in such disparate publications as New York Newsday, The Atlantic and The New York Times as well as High Times and High Society. He created animated political cartoons for Hard Copy, wrote sketches for SNL and his Homefront Comix was a prescient response to 9/11.

Max survived the Dubya years by writing and designing the satirical e-zine “A Scurrilous Rag.” He is author of “The Two Last Wills & Testaments Of Deadwood Dick, The Waters and Other Bedtime Stories from The Future. And One’s The Aprés Life: The Revised Official Users Guide. As well as numerous books of his paintings, street art, typographic art and digital “fotografix”.

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ALSO BY MAX SINGER FICTION ■ The Waters and Other Bedtime Stories from The Future: ■ The Two Last Wills and Testaments Of “Deadwood Dick” ■ “One’s The Aprés Life: The Revised Official New Arrivals Users Guide.”

■ If the chicken was in such a hurry to get to “the other side” why didn’t she just lie down in the middle of the road and wait for a Semi to squash her? And other burning questions HISTORY ■ Forgotten America: A Graphic Narrative of American History [22 Vols.]

■ Forgotten America.

Portraits of Americans. A Portrait of America.

An Illustrated “Cook’s Tour” of Forgotten American History.

Volume One: From Alabama to New York: Volume Two: From North Carolina Tyo Wyoming: ART ■ The @Angstville Chronicles: And Other Non-Linear Ironic Postmodern Graphic Narratives ■ Chawkman Speaks: “Washed Away”: (The Complete 2012 Season) ■ Free Art Project @Angstville.

Chawkman’s “Angstville Chronicles” ■ #Masterpieces_of_world_art_2.0 [For The Tik Tok Generation] PHOTOGRAPHY ■ They/Them: Portraits from The Gilded Closet ■ 75 Views of The Chrysler Building ■ The Empty Quarter: A Memoir of My Stay In The French Quarter During The Plague Years 2020–2021 { 81 }

two bIt Dreadful Press* 176 EAST 81ST STREET NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK ZONE IMPROVEMENT PLAN 10028 UNITED STATES PLANET EARTH SOLAR SYSTEM ORION ARM MILKY WAY GALAXY LOCAL GROUP VIRGO SUPERCLUSTER LANIAKEA SUPERCLUSTER THE [A?] UNIVERSE THEMAXYFACTORY@YAHOO.COM SILICON CHIP IDENTIFIER CYBERSPACE *Formerly Penny Dreadful Press {before inflation}

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