ONCE UPON A
A little story about an unknown
family.Click here for the full-screen version.
I own the Smith-Smythees and
all other persons mentioned in this tale. So keep your dirty
hands off them.
Any similarity with people
living, dead or supermarionated is entirely coincidental. If
you see a similarity, it is just a figment of your
Nose cola alert
Reading this while
simultaneously partaking liquids is considered a serious
threat to the health. The author will not take any
responsibility. You are warned.
a time, there was a very rich snail breeder from Boise, Idaho.
His name was George Smith-Smythee. He had lived a very
adventurous life when he was young. However, after he had
become the last man to visit Staten Island, he gave in to his
moment, his wife had already given birth to five very well
endowed sons. These were born in such rapid succession that
there was a lot of confusion regarding the birth order.
Especially with the eldest three, the mix up was complete.
Smith-Smythee was not given any time to enjoy her celibate
married life, as she died immediately after her husband put a
knot in his organ.
made an enormous impact on the family. So much so, that they
couldn’t even remember how she had died.
because she gave birth to a daughter? And was she so
frightened by that happening that she went to the great Pie
Iron in the sky? On the other hand, was it something as simple
as her plane crashing in an avalanche? Nobody knew, but her
sons were never the same after that. However, they were still
very well endowed.
Technically speaking the sons were all still virgins. Very
well endowed ones. That was because they were only dated by
deaf-mute quadriplegics who didn't know one end of a man from
the other. And who wouldn't know what to do with it if they,
the deaf-mute quadriplegics, did.
Smith-Smythee was considered, most of the time, the eldest
son. He had joined the Peace Corps and, at a relatively young
age, had risen high in their ranks. He was also a very gifted
roller skater. One of the best in the world, in fact. A
decisive, quick thinker, he was nevertheless known for letting
his sentences trail off, as if he had forgotten what he had
started to say. And he was a very sloppy eater, always getting
himself covered in food products.
Smith-Smythee, the second eldest middle son was one who didn't
mince his words. He didn't say much at all. He was happiest
when he could indulge in his passion: making models of the
world's Heritage Buildings from burned matches. Furthermore,
he was always willing to help his brothers with their chores
by being around with the big green wheelbarrow that was his
joy and pride.
it that those two had a very close, very special relationship.
That raised a lot of eyebrows, but everybody fell over their
feet in assuring the rest of the world that they, the “every
bodies” were broadminded grown-ups and that they had no
problem with it. The truth behind this rumour was only known
to a select few, who discussed it in dark corners so that it
would remain a secret. And that was a good thing because it
was nobody’s business, after all.
Smith-Smythee, the eldest, middle, second eldest son, suffered
from multiple personality disorder. He was very much
interested in coal. He had discovered at least three
varieties. And had written a book about it that was on the
bestseller list for a long time. As he spent most of his time
exploring new coalmines, there was not much known about him.
Except that he was thought to be the spitting image of the
lover of the wife of someone.
son, Joseph Smith-Smythee, was bitten by a mad dog as a child
and was since that day an aqua phobic with the sense of humour
of a kiwi. He spent a lot of time lying under his bed hiding
from a very besotted creature, who insisted on, because her
nose became regularly covered with chocolate, him licking that
part of her body clean. Which reminded him of that mad dog and
made him cry, because that reminded him that water made
Smith-Smythee, the youngest son. Wise beyond his years he
suffered a blow on the head while baby crocodile hunting. That
resulted in a permanent aphasia and since then he spoke only
gibberish. That made it very difficult for him to have healthy
relationships with members of the opposite sex. Or of the same
sex for that matter.
family member was George Smith-Smythee's aunt, Great-aunt
Smith-Smythee. The poor old soul was a basket case since the
day she tried to bake an apple pie, but discovered that there
were only pears in the house. George Smith-Smythee found her
muttering about fuses and nice strawberry flavours and those
were the last coherent things she would ever utter.
Smith-Smythee also had a very good friend, Quack, a timid
little Taiwanese origami designer, who didn't know a thing
about himself. Except that he sneezed a lot and that he had a
daughter, Can-Can. Can-Can Quack was a drooling little
trollop, who had been to a very expensive typing course. She
was now filling her days with ogling over most of the very
well endowed Smith-Smythee brothers, buying wildly extravagant
sunglasses and going out with her admirers. Therefore, George
Smith-Smythee had to write his own letters.
George Smith-Smythee had amassed his riches by selling his
snails to France. On one of his business trips, he met a young
man, Socrates Knickerbockers. Also known as Spleen. Spleen was
the owner of a little do-it-yourself shop, and he could handle
his wenches. He also sold and rented a lot of great equipment
and that gave George Smith-Smythee a very good idea.
For he had
surfed the Internet once and had discovered that a third-rate
actor was throwing away a lot of money by thinking that he,
the third-rate actor, could make a movie about a man with five
sons. And that a lot of Internet sites discussed either that
movie or that family.
As far as
George Smith-Smythee, the very rich snail breeder from Boise,
Idaho, was concerned, the only good publicity was a lot of
publicity. Therefore, he wanted to create a forum on which
people could discuss him and his five very well endowed sons.
And his Great-aunt and even the Quack family.
he and his very well endowed sons had their hands full with
other things, so George Smith-Smythee asked Socrates
Knickerbockers, also known as Spleen, to build that forum for
Spleen came, with all his wenches, to live with them on Smith-Smythee
Island in the Smith-Smythee Villa. And constructed the forum,
which in time became known as the Tree house Ranters.
didn't know a thing about himself except that he sneezed a lot
and that he had a daughter, had something else, too. He had a
half nephew. That half nephew wasn’t very knowledgeable about
himself either. However, as he had a full mop of hair, he
called himself the Wig.
was a social security worker with a Mission. He believed. He
believed in getting the whole world population irritated.
Preferably, when they, the whole world population, were
discussing their favourite hobbies, sex and eating and sex.
The Wig then barged in with the Holy Wet Blanket, thus getting
the whole world population pissed off. And then the Wig would
start raving about something completely off-topic, like
kitchen utensils for instance.
George Smith-Smythee started to think of a failsafe to prevent
such things to happen. And while he was visiting London,
trying to get them to eat more snails ‘n’ chips, he met in the
coffee corner of Marks & Spencer, Lady Tamara Ravensworth-Fernymarsh,
a rich socialite, who had fallen on hard times and worked
there as a waitress.
immediately recognized him for the rich snail breeder from
Boise, Idaho, that he was and served him his preferred weak
tea. He was instantly captivated by her chauffeur, Noisy
Valet, a former dustman from Blackpool, who was extremely well
would’ve raised a few eyebrows in the dark corners too, if
those persons there had enough imagination to come up with
such an idea. However, they had not.
Lady Tamara Ravensworth-Fernymarsh and Noisy Valet agreed, in
exchange for a never-ending supply of teaspoons, to keep an
eye on the Wig. And they also promised George Smith-Smythee
that they would rid the earth of all besotted creatures and
other pests, which were soiling the beaches of Smith-Smythee
the Smith-Smythees, the Quacks, Spleen, Spleen’s wenches, Lady
Tamara Ravensworth-Fernymarsh and Noisy Valet lived their full
and very well endowed lives. And the Tree house Ranters were
free to discuss their favourite hobbies, sex and eating and