Chapter Eight

     Off the dock and onto the green grass of Thursday grounds, I ambled my way over first one hill, then the next.  I realized I wasn’t sure how far I’d gone while tee - dotting with Perry Moppins or where I’d started.  I looked to my right and saw off in the distance the vague outline of a dust colored path heading off into trees with brightly colored leaves.  Ah!  That was the way I had taken to Friday.  I went left.  After walking my way over three more grassy hills, I crossed my eyes and sure enough, there were rows of tiny tees, all with small dots in the middle, stuck into the ground.  Just then I heard the high, shrill voice of Perry Moppins herself and I turned around.
“Miss Smidge!  Oh, how wonderful!  You’re back for another round of tee dotting!”  She pulled up next to me and looked down at my feet.  “You’ve forgotten your roller skates again!  You must never leave home without them!”
“Yes, Yes, I know Perry.  But I’m not here for another round.  I’m actually on my way back home.  After I close up Mr. Curmudgeon’s Haberdashery.” I explain.  “Hello Tock!”  I reached over to lightly pat the tick on Perry’s shoulder with the tip of my finger. “ No longer nervous I hope.”
 “Well, Justa, we’re awful sorry you can’t join us.  We’re going for a new record in tee dotting today!  Brought extra brushes and ink!”  Perry pulled a handful of paint brushes from her pocket.
 “It all sounds very exciting.  Sorry to miss it.  Now, could you show me back to my armoire?  I can’t remember where exactly it was last I saw you.”  I asked.
“Armoire?  I’m not sure what you’re talking about Justa, dear friend.  Last you saw me, you’d stepped out of that hill just back there.”  Perry pointed to a small hill, off to the left with a door in it.
“Hmm, how odd.  That doesn’t look at all like the Haberdashery.  No one can see my front window display!” I walked on toward it.
 “Very well, Perry, thank you!  I’ll check it out.  Enjoy your day!”  I waved her off and she rolled out of sight, bending and dotting all the way.
 I opened the door in the hill and stepped through and sure enough the wooden floor inside stepped right out into the back room of the haberdashery!  I shut the door and sat down on the upholstered chair in the corner and looked about me.  Everything looked just as I’d left it.  Lights off, sign reading ‘Closed’ out front.  I checked the ice box and there was my dinner.  Un-opened and waiting for me.  I took out my sandwich and sat down again to eat it.  It was so nice to eat something proper.  I was famished!
 I must have dozed off while eating, because the next thing I knew, I opened my eyes, which I didn’t remember closing, and  Mr. Curmudgeon himself was leaning over me and tapping me on the shoulder.
“Miss Smidge!  Miss Smidge!”
 I sat up, shook my head and brushed the crumbs off my skirt.  “Dear me!  I must have dozed off.” I started.
 “Wonderful Miss Smidge!  You are just wonderful!  Not only is the Haberdashery properly closed up and tidy but you stayed through the night to oversee that all was well!  I’m proud to tell you Miss Smidge, you are getting a promotion!”
 “Promotion!”  I gasped.
 “Not only that but when I took your cinnamon buns to share with Ms. Ledger, she loved them so much, she invited me to dinner last night to celebrate the New Year with her...”  Mr. Curmudgeon blushed red at this and coughed a bit.  “...Ms. Ledger and I found we have the same taste in metal polishes.  She enjoys polishing coins as much as I do buttons.  We’ve decided to polish together every Thursday!  Thanks to you Miss Smidge! Yes, yes, now, you do look a bit sleepy.  Why don’t you run along home now and we’ll discuss your promotion later.”  (Cough, cough )  Then he headed to the front counter to open up for business.



One week later, as I’m opening the Haberdashery, turning over the closed sign to read ‘Open!’ to begin what looks to be a bustling morning by the line forming on the street, I’m pulled away by an incessant buzzing in my new window display...
There, bouncing off the glass is a large and ugly fly.  I make for the swatter, hanging near the counter and as I go to swat the repulsive thing... I don’t.
“Good morning to you Lord Horrid!”  I say and smile as I open the door to let him fly off into the cool morning breeze of Thursday.

Chapter Seven

      Tom led me through the shrubbery and out to the banks of a river.  “Ah good!  There he is!  Captain Stockings.  Looks like his ship is still docked.  Let’s go on down and see if he’ll let you ride aboard the Red Feather."
 He set off toward the dock waving his arm and shouting out a greeting.   As we approached the dock, I took in the view of the ‘ship’, bouncing and rocking in the river.  It was painted black and built in the shape of a large pirate’s hat and had a large red feather coming up out of the center like a giant mast.  I realized that a ship on a river would have no need for a sail as it wouldn’t need to catch the wind to push it along the water.  The current would do that all on its own.
A tall, sandy haired villainous looking man was standing off to one side at the top of the ramp leading up into the ship and several young lads were loading crates onto the deck.  Some were labeled ‘China’ and others were labeled ‘Stockings’.
“Ahoy there Captain!  May I have a word?”  called out Tom.
The captain waved him forward and Tom went up to speak to the man while I stood on the dock.  I saw them pointing and gesturing towards me and assumed Tom was working out the details to get me a ride to Thursday.  A few minutes later he returned to the dock and said, “Captain says you’re welcome to ride along.  He’ll get you on to Thursday via the river.  Up you go then.  Nice meetin’ ya and hope there was no offense taken at my fun.”
 “Thank you so much, Tom, for working out this ride for me.  Can’t say I’m offended but I still think you’re quite impossible with your pranks, you might consider easing off them next time you have a visitor.  Please pat the Odd Duck for me.  I did rather enjoy meeting her.”  I waved good bye and walked up the ramp and onto the ship.
The Captain gave a bow and introduced himself.  “Aye, good day Miss, Lady, Miss.  I’m Captain Stockings and welcome to the Wed Feathah.  We’ah happy to escowt you down the Wivah Wednesday!”
 Clearly he was having trouble with his ‘R’s’ but I would not be so rude as to mention it.  Instead, I bowed in return and said,  “Thank you so kindly Captain.  My name is Justa  Smidge and I’m very happy not to have to walk my way back to Thursday.  You have a very lovely ship!”
 “Ah, yes.  Built it myself I did.  Befowe bwinging on me hawty cwew.”  Here, he paused and looked around for his crew.  “Ah, must be below deck at the moment.  I’ll just shove off and then take you on down to meet the-” he stopped what he was saying and tilting his head he stared at my hands.  “Is that silvah tablewayah on yo fingahs?”
“Yes it is.  I designed them myself.”  I waggled my fingers so he could see my rings shine.
 He nodded once and smiled.  Then he turned abruptly and marched to the side of the ship where he cranked up an anchor and untied the ropes looped onto the dock, then gave a spin of his wheel and the ship took off swiftly down the river.   He pulled a telescope out of his pocket, held it to his eye for a moment, then placed it back into his coat pocket and gestured for me to follow him into the ship’s cabin.
 He was wearing a black coat, which came just below his waist and black knickers which ended at his knees.  He had boots on but I couldn’t see them for they were covered by long, knee high, red stockings with a pattern of black feathers, pulled over his boots.  His long, sandy colored hair was parted in the middle and pulled back into a pony tail and he had several earrings in both ears, and several rings around most of his fingers.  In place of a mustache, he had two gold hooks, glued to his upper lip, both curling outwards towards the corners of his mouth and a small red feather glued to his chin in place of a goatee.
We entered the cabin and climbed down some stairs into the bottom of the ship.  I held tight to the hand rail made of rope as the ship was swaying quite fiercely due to the river current.  We were met immediately by the sound of crashing dishes.  As we entered the galley, I saw the source of the noise.  There were china plates and cups and bowls, sliding out of door-less cupboards and smashing onto the floor.  There were two small, bearded men, both wearing pointed red hats, green pants and wooden clogs, picking up the larger pieces of china and throwing them back onto the floor to smash them into smaller pieces.
“Smashing fellows, awe they not?”  The Captain held his hand out towards the small men. “Go thwough a lot of dishes I do.  Thought about going to papah yeahs ago but that didn’t go ovah well with all the watah and sea mist.  Not to mention the shotage of twees fo papah.”  Said the Captain, brushing some of the smashed china with his stockinged foot.
 “What about a shortage of china?”  I asked over the noise.
“Are you saying the Chinese awe showt miss?  I’ll have you know that half of the people in the wold awe below avewage!”  He answered.
“Not saying that at all, just wondering about the dishes.  If you ever run out.”  I explained .
 “We pick up new shipments wegulaly.  That’s what we wew doing at the dock just now.  Two of the most impowtant things in the wold, china and stockings!”
“Why do you wear your stockings outside of your boots?”  I dared to ask.
“Deah Miss Smidge, wouldn’t want to covah up good stockings with ugly old boots would we?”  He eyed my own boots and his lip curled up with disdain.
 “Anyhow,” he went on, “Meet the cwew.  Jack and Jacques.”
 The two small men, stopped smashing dishes and turned to me and grinned through their white beards showing gold teeth.
“Up top cwew!  Up top!  Keep the ship on cowse!  We’ll be taking Miss Smidge as faw as Thuwsday.  Plan to stop and anchow theyah.”
 Jack and Jacques headed quickly up on their short little legs to the top deck and we followed behind.
Back on top, Captain Stockings took the wheel.  One of the little men went to the back of the ship and began waving and gesturing at something down below and the other began to climb the feather mast, wearing clogs, which I’m sure was very difficult.
“Seems like your crew really knows what they’re doing.  They seem very experienced.”  I complimented.
 The Captain replied, “Yes, they have been vewy valuable to me in the wunning of the Wed Feathah.  Befow they came to me, I was on my own, to wun the ship and sewch fo tweasah.  It was duwing one of my tweasah hunts that I came acwoss them.  Ovah at the Fwiday Fountain,  stealing theyah weight in wishes and coins.  It was I that taught them the diffewence between one penny and anothah. You see, a penny thwown in as a wish fo a castle is of highah value than one used to wish fo a cow.”  He explained.  “Jack and Jacques had just fled the Gawdens of Gnome.”
“Oh dear.  What were they fleeing from?”  I asked.
“Bowedom mostly.  Although thewe have been tales of giant moles,  sinking houses and eating all in sight within the Gawdens.  These two, howevah, weah looking fo adventuah!”
 “Giant moles!" I gasped,  "How dreadful!  It is good you found them.   What’s that one doing out back there?”  I pointed at the small man, pulling on a rope and clapping his hands at the back of the ship, very excitedly.
 “He’s assisting Scally Wag, the othah membah of my cwew.  Come!  This is something you must see.  It’s not evewy day you get to watch a squiwel watah ski!”
We went to the back of the ship and peered over the rail.  Down below was a rope tied to the ship, at the other end was a handle and holding onto that handle was a squirrel, standing on skis!  A real, live squirrel.  Water skiing behind a pirate ship on a river!
“Oh my goodness!”  I exclaimed.  “I’ve never seen such a thing.  It’s magnificent!”
“Yes, yes, I know.  Nomally, a ship this size doesn’t go fast enough for watah skiing behind it, but because this one is on a wivah and the skiah is a small squiwel, it works out pefectly!  Scally!  Scally, come on up heyah!”
The Captain waved up the squirrel.  The small man pulled in the rope until the squirrel could reach up and hop onto to a small platform just above the water on the back of the ship.  Then it scurried up a small ramp and over the ships rail.  The Captain went up to the squirrel and it jumped up to sit on his shoulder.  Turning to me he said, “This is Scally Wag.  The othah membah of my cwew.  His name used to be Desmond Wag but did you evah heah a piwate called Desmond?  Of cowse not.   His family twee was full of nuts and he longed to move on to hoading othah things besides food fo wintah.  So I asked him to join us and named him ‘Scally’, which was much mo fitting.”  At this point the squirrel took out one of the captains’ earrings and shoved it into a tiny pocket in his little pants.
 “Um,” I pointed.  “I believe he just stole your earring.”
 The captain chuckled.  “Ah, yes, he does that.  He steals all my jewels and othah tweasahs I’ve gathahed ovah the yeahs.  Then he hides them fo me to we-find!  You see, theyah’s no mo tweasah in the lands fo me to find.  I’ve found it all and was getting quite bowed, being a piwate with no tweasah hunts to keep me busy, until Scally came up with that bwight idea to we-hide it all.  Now we have endless tweasah hunting fo the west of ow lives!”
“Sounds quite entertaining, treasure hunting with a squirrel.  And he even wears little pants!”  I point out.
 “Well, yes, fine lady.  Can’t have a naked squiwel on bowed.”  replied Captain Stockings.  “He keeps all his knickahs in a bunch down in his quahtahs.  Sleeps on them like a nest.”
 “Sounds very cute!”  I exclaim at the thought of the little furry squirrel, all curled up on his little nest of knickers.
 Apparently he wasn’t fond of being called cute because right as I said it he began a loud chattering and pulled a tiny set of nun- chuks out of his other pocket and began swirling them in the air and looked about to pounce on me and hit me in the nose with them.  I jumped back and apologized right away.
 “Oh! I only meant it as a compliment.  You are such an intelligent squirrel, I’ve never seen the likes!  Tell me, do most squirrels water ski and know how to use nun-chuks?”  I ask Scally.
 At this, the Captain steps forward, calming the squirrel and whispers in my direction, “Scally can not talk.  He’s a squiwel.”
 “Right.  Of course not.”  I reply.
We return to the front of the ship.  I have to hold the rail the whole way to keep from falling with all the rocking and swaying.
 “How many kilometers down the wivah, uh, river until we get to Thursday Captain?”  I ask.
 “Kiloma whats?”  Asks the captain.
“You know, what’s the distance.  Kilometers?”
“We know of no kilometahs, Smidge.”  He replies.
“Ohhhh, do you go by miles around here?”  I ask intrigued.
 “If you’re meaning how to navigate, Miss Smidge, we have no need fo that nonsense.  We go by time and landmahks!”  He says.
“And what about direction?  How do you tell direction Captain?”  I ask.
 “Why, fowahd and backwahd of cowse!”  He answers, as though it’s obvious.
 “Jack!  Jacques!  Keep a look out for the humps!”  Then he turns to me again.  “The Humps of the Wivah Wednesday can make you quite sea sick.  Tales say they weah made by the same giant moles of the Gawdens of Gnome.  The moles dug homes beneath the wivah, waising the eawth in lawge mounds which caused the wivah to have to flow up and down ovah them.”  He explains.  “Once we awe past them, we’ll come to a fowk in the wivah and we’ll take the wight.  That will be Thuwsday.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too far.  The sickness part doesn’t sound too nice though.”
The two little men hurried about the deck with no trouble at all, even though the ship was still bouncing and swaying in the current.
 “Which one is Jack and which one is Jacques?”  I asked Captain Stockings.  Both men looked identical to me.
“Jack is the one with the funny accent.”  He replied simply.
I tilted my head at him and asked, “Do they ever speak?”
 “Hmm.”  Thought the Captain. “Now that you mention it, not often.”
“So, Jack and Jacques don’t speak often and Scally can’t talk because he’s a squirrel, so does that mean you do all the talking on this ship?”  I ask.
 “I suppose I do!”  The captain replied and smiled at that.
 “How unfortunate.”  I mutter.  “I mean, unfortunate that you don’t have anyone to talk to regularly.”
 “Cowect!  Which makes for a vewy agweeable cwew!”  replied the captain.
 Scally started chattering away and leapt off the captain’s shoulder to run along the rails and grab at ropes.
 “Although,” said Captain Stockings, “Scally may not be able to talk but he still makes plenty of noise.  Enough, sometimes, fo a cwew of twenty sailows!  Added to by the incessant buzzing of that dwatted fly when he ventuwes to cuwse us with his visits aboahd!”
 “Ah.  I hear he’s positively horrid!”  I say.
“Yes, but now it’s ‘Lowd Positively Howid’ I heah.”  The captain says in a nasaly, mocking tone.  “His kind have seen fit to elevate him by title.  I should think they can keep the ‘Lowd’ pawt soley to theyah Outah Houses, which I fo one, nevah plan to step stocking in!”
“Will I have the, er, pleasure of meeting Lord Horrid?  Will he visit the ship while I’m aboard do you think?”  I ask.  I’ve heard enough about this fly that I am quite curious and would at least like a glimpse of a fly lord.
 “Pleasuah?!”  Snaps Captain Stockings sharply.  “You awe an odd guhl!  Pleasah is opening new shipments of stockings!  Not meeting a dwatted fly.  Lowd or not!  Will you meet him?  It’s possible, although he usually only ventuwes ovah wheyah theyahs a smell wooth investigating and .." (sniff, sniff) the captain steps up close and sniffs at my face.  “Ah, I dawe say you do smell odd, but not odd enough!  What is that?  Cinnamon?”
I step back offended.  “I beg your pardon!  I do not smell odd!”  I say.
 “Oh, take no offense, you awe quite possibly wight.  It’s pwobably just the awthwitis in my nose.  Always thwowing off my smell.”  Said Captain Stockings.
“Arthritis?  In your nose?  I didn’t know that was possible.” I remark.
 “Yes, it happened duwing my accident.  One of my tweasuah hunts.  Fell to the bottom of a well.  My mustache had to be amputated and my nose was bwoken.  Had to have this awtificial mustache attached.”  Explained the Captain, twitching his lip which caused the two gold hooks to wiggle.
Just then the ship began to tilt upward at a very steep angle and everything un-attached slid to the back.  Including myself.
“Hold on!” commanded the Captain.
I grabbed the rail and found a rope which I tied around my waist and secured to a metal ring on the side of the cabin wall.
 “Hewe come the humps!  Twy not to get sick!”
The rest of the crew scurried around the ship, here and there, bracing crates and pulling ropes.  After the third climb and then descent, which felt like a water slide, my stomach began to churn and I’m sure my face turned green.  Two ‘humps’ later, I was lying on the deck, pressing my face onto the cold, wet wood and glad I hadn’t eaten much after all. 
“All ovah!  The wivah should be smooth from heyah on out.”  Called the captain.
 I waited until my stomach had settled and my head quit spinning, then sat upright and regained my composure.  Sure enough, the water became very flat and calm and the ship glided along smoothly.
We rounded a slight bend in the river and then up ahead everything disappeared into a thick fog.  We were inside it within a minute and an eerie feeling crept over the ship.  Everything got dark and I could barely see my hand in front of my face.
 “Awwghhhhh!”  Growled the captain.  He looked around for a moment then climbed up onto a balcony at the front of the ship.  “Jack!  Jacques!  Wheyah is it!?”
 Jack and Jacques both turned to look up at Captain Stockings, then looked at each other and shrugged.
 “I haven’t got the foggiest idea!”  shouted the captain.  “Who took the foggiest idea?  Scally Wag! Have you stolen the foggiest idea?”
 The squirrel ran past me towards the Captain, who I could not see through the fog.  I heard him talking to Scally sternly.
“I told you, you could steal anything you like but none of the impowtant bits for the ship!  Now, go bwing it back heyah!”
The squirrel took off back past me into the cabin.
“What’s the foggiest idea?”  I called out.
The captain walked towards me until I could see his shape.  “It’s a device that Jacques invented, clevah fellow, to help us thwoo the foggiest pawts of the wivah.”  Captain Stockings explained.
 Just then a bright light cut through the fog from the balcony up front.
“Aha!  It’s back!  Thanks much Scally, we could have hit wocks oh the showe or the fowk in the wivah!  Nevah mess with this again!”  The captain scolded while running back up to the balcony.
 I made my way up behind him, holding onto the rail to find my way.
 “His idea was a light bulb?” I ask.
“Yes!  A light bulb to shine thwoo the fog.  Most light bulbs bounce off fog, they awe fluffy clouds aftah all, sitting down amongst us as if we invited them fo tea.  This idea of Jacques, is a light bulb that cuts thwoo the fog.  We’d be dead without it.”  explained the captain.  Just then a bell started clanging from the area of the mast.  “Fowk!  Fowk in the wivah!”  Yelled the captain and he and Jack, uh Jacques, spun the wheel to the right and the ship turned, leaning hard on it’s side, cutting through the water and then righting itself again.
 “Onward to Thuwsday!”  shouted the captain.  “Pwepawe to anchah!”
 Once again, the ship became chaos.  I assumed we were about to dock in Thursday.  Thursday!  I was finally there!  I could finally end this night and close up the haberdashery and go home!  I held onto the rail and leaned out to catch a view.  The fog cleared just as we slowed and the ship pulled up to a half rotted dock, leaning precariously to the right.  The ramp was lowered and I found my basket and started down to the dock.  Then, remembering my manners, I ran back up and thanked Captain Stockings for allowing me to travel with him.  I thought I owed him something to pay my way so I slipped off my silver fork ring and handed it to him.
 “ Something to add to your treasure trove.  Maybe when you see it, you’ll think of the fork in the river, which takes you to Thursday and you’ll think of me.”  I said.
 Scally climbed up on my shoulder and hooked a small red feather into my hair with a small gold hook, chattered something, which I could not understand and hopped down into my basket.  “Oh! Thank you Scally!  It’s been so nice to meet you.  You are the finest squirrel I’ve ever known.  I think you might be able to use these more than I would.”  I took off my silver spoon and knife rings and slid the spoon ring over his left front paw and the knife ring over his right.  I figured, if he wanted, they were about the right size for him to duel with.  The knife as a sword and the spoon as a shield.  He seemed very pleased with them but wouldn’t get out of the basket.  “Scally, could you use this basket to keep your knickers bunched up in?”
 He looked up at me with his small brown squirrel eyes and then started turning circles, very quickly in the basket and then laid down in the middle, head tucked under his fluffy tail.
I handed the basket to Captain Stockings, waved goodbye to Jack & Jacques who smiled back with their gold teeth and off I went.

Chapter Six

         There seemed to be only one trail or road or path, no matter what you want to call it, only one way to go from point A to point B as far as I could see.  I began to realize there were two things you could count on in this place.  That there was really only one road which followed on from beginning to end in one direction at all times and that there were very odd and interesting characters inhabiting these places.  Therefore, I was in no doubt that I would be coming upon more new and very strange people of some sort in the near future.
The path led me into a forest.  Not a huge forest, dark and dense and forbidding, but a smallish forest of shorter trees, not placed all that close together and smelling like citrus and pine.  I wove my way through it pretty quickly, not encountering anyone, which was just fine with me, and out of the woods I came, right to the edge of a large pond.  There was a little bank with a little bench that looked perfect for sitting on and I really needed to take off my boots for a bit and wiggle my toes after all this walking.  So, I sat and took off my boots and put my feet in the water and heard a splashing and a quacking, so I looked up and there was a duck.  Just a plain,old duck.  Nothing strange, it wasn’t wearing odd clothing and it had plain duck like feathers and it quacked, just like a duck should.  It came up onto the bank and stood next to me and stared.  Just stared, with it’s beady little eyes, cocking it’s head from side to side then looking down at my basket I’d set beside me.
“She thinks you have bread in your basket.”  Said a voice behind me.
 Startled, I turned to see a very ordinary boy, with very ordinary brown hair, wearing very ordinary overalls over an ordinary white shirt.  Well, not quite white.  It might have been white once but it looked like it had been rolled through the mud, jumped in the lake, skid down a tree, chewed on by rabbits and used to brush a dog’s teeth.  Which is a very ordinary look for a shirt worn by an ordinary boy.
“Pardon?”  I asked.
 “She thinks you have bread in your basket which means you do ‘cause she’s usually right when it comes to bread as it’s her favorite food, right after slugs o’ course.  Unless, you have slugs in your basket?”  The boy said.
“Uh, no slugs.  Not today.”  I told the duck.  “It is bread, or more importantly, one of my cinnamon buns.  I’ve just baked some for Solomon Swear back at The Bend.”  I took the cinnamon bun out of my basket and broke off a piece and tossed it to the duck.
“Well, aren’t you the nice one, feeding the Odd Duck one of your treats!  I’m Tom Foolery.” He held out a grubby hand in greeting. “ Hey, what’s that on your fingers?  Tableware?  Why would someone wear tableware on their fingers?”  The boy asked, looking at my fingers, then peering down into my basket for more of whatever I might have.
“I find them handy.  You never know when you’ll have something to eat and nothing to eat it with!”  I answered.
“I just use my hands.  They seem to be handy enough.  And the Odd Duck just uses her bill.  We’ve got no use for tableware.  Ever.”
“She looks rather normal to me.”  I said tossing more bread pieces to the duck. “I mean, she looks just like a duck should, I don’t see anything odd about her.”
“O’ course she’s a normal duck.”  Said the boy, sitting down next to me and tossing a fishing line into the water, which was connected to to a long stick in his hand.
“Well, then, why do you keep calling her the ‘Odd Duck’?”  I asked.
“Do you see more ducks here?" asked the boy, " No, just the one.  I’ve only got the one and one is odd.   Now, if I had two ducks, they’d be even.  But I don’t.  Just the one duck.”  The boy explained.
 “What if you had three ducks?”  I asked.
“Then, they’d be odd again o’ course.”  Said the boy looking at me like I was slightly stupid.
 “Or, you’d have one pair and one odd.”  I countered.
 “Ooooooooh, I do like pears.  Could eat ‘em all day I could.  Used to in fact, before I chopped down the pear tree.”  Said the boy licking his mouth.
“Why did you chop down the pear tree if you only had one?”  I asked.
 “It was the perfect size to make my fishin’ bench out of and if I didn’t make my fishin’ bench, you’d have nothin’ to be sittin’ on now.”  He gestures toward the bench we’re sitting on.
 “Are you sure you should be chopping down trees?  Not only are you now out of pears, which you were so fond of eating, but the Mayor might have an asthma attack if she should find out.”  I said.
 “What, you mean Pree?”  He asks incredulously.  “Aww, she’s full of it.  Thinks she owns everything, she does.  Why she tried to make Ducky here pay a fine for laying her eggs and increasing the population.  Says more numbers in the town, more numbers on the price stickers.”  He said.
“She does seem a bit set in her ways for someone so young.  What did you tell her?”  I ask.
“I told her nuthin!  Just cracked one of them eggs on her head I did!  It was awful fun!  Her face got so red she looked about to blow her stack!”  The boy was laughing full on now and fell off the bench onto the weeds at the pond’s edge.
 “You didn’t!”  I exclaimed.  “You killed a poor baby duckling!?”  I was shocked.
The boy sat upright and gave me a look.  “Now, I might be foolish Miss but I ain’t stupid.  You’d need two ducks for there to be ducklings in them eggs, a mommy and a daddy and as I’ve already ‘splained, I’ve just got the one!”
My face was now redder than Mayor Pree Thigs’.  Being schooled and thought stupid by a young boy.  I stood up, my feet now dry from dangling in the air, and stomped back to my boots, where I began to put them on.  As soon as my foot set into my first boot I pulled it right back out squealing for there was a squishy, slimy, cold something sitting down inside of it.
 Immediately the boy started laughing all over again and rolling in the weeds.
I peered down into my boot and there was a smelly, little dead fish stuck inside.  I dumped it out and glared at him. Then I wiped my foot on the grass and put my boot back on.  I checked the other boot before putting it onto my other foot.
 “You did that didn’t you?”  I narrowed my eyes accusingly at the boy.
“Just a little fun Miss.  I don’t get many folks down here to prank do I?”
 “Hmmf.”  I huffed and went down to take up my basket.
 “Aw, now, sorry then.  Can I get ‘cha something to eat?  Wouldn’t be hospitable otherwise would I?”  He asked, brushing off his pants and heading to one of the trees by the edge of the forest.  He lifted the lid off of a little wooden box and after a bit of rustling around in it , pulled out a sandwich.  “Here ya are.  Eat up.”
 I took the sandwich from him for I was hungry.  Lemon ice and cinnamon buns are tasty but don’t make up much of a meal and they’re all I’d had since Thursday.  I went to take a bite and just as it went into my mouth I looked down and saw squirming, wriggling earth worms sliding around between the bread.  This time I screamed and threw the sandwich, which the Odd Duck waddled over to suck up with her bill, making little happy duck sounds and wagging her tail feathers.  I spit on the ground , multiple times, I’m not proud to say, but wouldn’t you if you’d just put earthworms into your mouth?
 Tom Foolery, was of course, laughing and rolling on the ground again.
“You’re impossible!”  I yelled at him.  “And horrid!”
 “Hey, don’t you go mixing me in with that fly!” Tom sat up and got serious.  “ I enjoy finding a little fun, and pranks is how I find it, but I’m not as miserable as that stinkin’ winged turd monger.”
“Who are you talking so crudely about now?”  I ask.
“Horrid.  Positively Horrid.  You’ve met him have you?”  The boy answered.
“No, haven’t had the pleasure, but he hardly sounds as terrible as some of the characters I’ve come across lately.  Speaking of which, I need to be on my way.  If you’ll please tell me where I am exactly and how I can get on to Thursday?  I really haven’t got time for all this.  Also, if possible, could you point me towards a different mode of transportation?  I’ve been walking for what seems like forever.”  I stood off to the side of the pond with my basket on my arm and my hands on my hips and waited for the boy to get himself together and find me a proper way out of there.
 “Fine, fine.  Now lets see.  You’re here at Tuesday Pond and if you’re looking to get to Thursday, you’ll need to go through Wednesday, but it’ll be walking most of the way, unless, oh!  Yes, he might give you a lift on the river.  Hmmm.”
The boy was contemplating something and I wasn’t sure I trusted anything he might come up with.
“Alright.  Follow me.”  And he set off walking down a little path to the right of the pond and into the shrubs until he was out of sight.
 I quickly weighed my options.  Stay here with the Odd Duck, wander off on my own and hope for the best or follow Tom Foolery into the shrubbery.  Two minutes later I was at Tom’s heels, hoping this wasn’t a trick.”

Chapter Five

    As the snowflakes grew in size and fell around me, I trudged carefully along, thankful again that I’d chosen to wear my knee high leather boots.  I passed around some large, snow covered boulders to reveal, not only the other side of the mountain, but also the sun, which now appeared to be rising, making the snow and the mountains a nice lavender shade with sparkles bouncing off.  There only seemed to be one level trail, following along the mountain and climbing steadily, covered in more and more snow.  I walked on for about an hour, getting slightly out of breath due to the altitude, cold and strenuous activity.  Eventually the path widened out to create a snow covered clearing and I heard voices singing through the snowy stillness.  Yes, singing!  Very lovely voices, getting louder with each step I took into the clearing.  I searched around, squinting into the blinding white, but could not see where the singing was coming from.  It sounded like I should have been right on top of whoever was singing but no one was near, just the swirling of the snow across the clearing.  Then, suddenly, I was right on top of someone, as a woman shuffled up out of the snow where she had apparently been lying!  I jumped back with a small scream and dusting herself off she looked up at me.
 “We have a guest!  Ladies, we have a guest!”  She called out and immediately the singing stopped and two more women stood up brushing snow off of themselves.  They were all wearing long, furry coats or robes as white as the snow, the only difference between them was a variance in the colors of the crystals lining each one’s hems, cuffs and pinned throughout their white braids. All three were waving their arms up and down gracefully and continuously.
The first woman had clear sparkling crystals reflecting off all of the sunlight beaming onto the clearing.  She spoke in a lovely angelic voice.
 “Hello!  Welcome to Monday Mountain.  My name is Splenda, these are my two sisters, Glimmer,” The one with lavender crystals gave a little wave. “and Hope.” The other, with blue crystals, stopped waving for a moment and smiled walking nearer. “We’re so happy to have someone visit our mountain, what is your name and where have you come from?”
 I regained my composure from being startled by the sudden appearance of three lovely ladies.
 “M-my name is Justa Smidge.  I’ve come from the hills of Sunday.  Karo brought me to the edge of the mountain and told me I might find help from some ladies up here.  I assume he meant you?”
 At the mention of Karo’s name the ladies giggled.
 “Is Karo still down there?”  Asked Glimmer.
“No, he rode off quite quickly.  Back to the hills.”
“Pity.  Had we known he was coming we might have set off the avalanche.” said Hope.
 “Now, sisters, then you would have caught Miss Smidge in it as well and that’s no way to greet a new guest!”
“Oh, you’re so right Splenda.  We’ll have to wait for next time.  We haven’t had some fun in awhile and it’s so entertaining to see him so panicked and nearly covered in snow!” Glimmer laughed.
 “Only to tarnish his armor!” giggled Hope falling back down into the snow.
 “They do love to torment the Colonel of corn.  He’s always so serious.  Life does need a laugh now and then!”  explained Splenda.
“I did appreciate his giving me a ride over and now I’d like to ask you ladies if you could possibly help me complete my journey.  I’m trying to get to Thursday.  I have a job to finish and need to be on my way as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, I believe we’ll do what we can.  Come with us.”  Splenda said, still waving her arms up and down, causing her furry, white sleeves to flap like wings.
Splenda, Glimmer and Hope all turned and began to walk gracefully across the snow to a large rock jutting out of the mountain side.  I followed along as smoothly as I could, my boots sinking into the snow, now above my knees, with each step.   As we rounded the giant rock, a large, white, palatial house appeared.  It seemed to be made of ice and was exquisite.  I gasped.
 “Is this your palace?!” I asked.
 “Oh!  Not a palace.  Just our house.  A palace is for royals and we’re snow angels not royals.” answered Splenda.
“Do you like it though?  Come on in, we do hope guests like our house, we’ve just had it finished with the last snow!”  Hope beamed as she opened the wide, icy door. Inside was just as magnificent.  At first I thought the entire place was made of ice but it wasn’t.  There were white fur rugs covering floors and stuffed stools that looked like snow geese and the walls were covered in what looked like lacquered snow, all glittery and slightly coarse.
 “Does it stay very cold in here all the time?”  I asked looking about me amazed.
 “Snow is an excellent insulator,” answered Glimmer.   “ Now you sit anywhere you like and rest your legs a bit. Would you like anything to eat?  We’ve got,  hmmm, Hope, what have we got in the kitchen to offer Miss Smidge?”  Glimmer asked her sister.
 “Oh!  We’ve got a new bin of lovely ice chips, snow cones of course, plenty of icicles in the freezer, or I could whip up a nice lemon icee and, well, now we’d have ice cream if the cow hadn’t frozen.”  At that Hope’s face fell a bit.
 “That was disappointing.  The ice cream was so good, if only we’d known you only got one serving per cow!  I mean how wasteful!  They should sell them with insulators or at least a heavy down over coat!  Something to make them last a bit longer.”  Agreed Glimmer.
 “Um, you’re not meant to freeze the entire cow.”  I interjected.
 Splenda looked disapprovingly at me and said “Now Dear, if you didn’t keep it cold the ice cream would melt and no one likes soupy ice cream!”
“Noooo!” agreed Glimmer “How would you ever get it to stay in the cone?”
 “Right, of course, so you have cones then?”  I asked, hoping for something of substance.  I’d had plenty of water along my way, I wasn’t interested in any more no matter what its form.
 I stomped the snow off my boots and set down my basket.  My bottle of water was now mostly frozen.
“We’ve just got done telling you we have no more ice cream, why ever would we have cones?”  Hope said, still waving her arms up and down.  In fact, all three of them continued to wave their arms and hadn’t stopped since they’d popped out of the snow in front of me.
 “May I ask something?  I hope I’m not being rude, but I am curious.”  I ventured.
“What is it?”  Splenda sat down next to me on top of one of the stuffed snow geese.
“I’m just wondering why all of you continue to wave your arms like you are?  Is it to dry your sleeves?  Those are lovely coats by the way.”
They looked at each other a little confused.
 “Haven’t you ever met a snow angel before?”  asked Hope.
“Well, yeees, I have, I suppose.”  I answered.  “In the winter, when we get enough snow.  When I was younger.”
 “And did you ever come upon a snow angel that did not wave her arms to make her sleeves look all the more angelic?”
 “Good point.”  I responded.  “Logically speaking, although I’m not sure we aren’t a bit short on logic up here.  Perhaps it’s the altitude?”
 “Well, that’s a matter of perception isn’t it?”  asked Splenda.   “And now, how about some of that lemon ice Hope, and then we’ll get Miss Smidge on her way!”
Over the lemon icee, which was pretty good, I’ll admit, they all asked several questions about my job at the haberdashery, never having jobs themselves, which I was more than happy to answer.  Then discussion turned to how to get me back on my way to Thursday.
 “We shouldn’t make Miss Smidge climb her way back down.  She hasn’t even got a coat!”  Said Hope kindly, smiling sympathetically at me.
“Nor a snow goose or polar bear.” commented Glimmer. “Ohhhh!  We could let her take the Avalanche!”
 “As thrilling as that would be, she’d be quite a mess and I’m sure she wants to remain somewhat presentable for the job she has to complete in Thursday.”  said Splenda.  “She’ll just take the lift.”  And she stood up as though it were all final.
Glimmer and Hope stood as well, arms flapping and I did the same, minus the flapping.
We went back out the way we’d come, through the heavy, icy door and all three bent to strap snow shoes made of very thick woven ice onto their feet.  They took another pair off of the wall and asked if I might like to use them, which I told them I very much would and I strapped them onto my own boots and we trudged through, but on top of, the snow.
 Down a little rise and passing a fluffy, white mountain goat, staring at us from it’s perch on a rock, we came to a basic ski lift.  Next to it was a gigantic silver gong with a button on a post beside it.
 “What is that for?”  I asked.
 “You see that other one way off in the distance there?  And then another even further thata way?”  pointed Glimmer.
 I nodded.
“Press the button and this hammer will hit the gong which will send sound waves which will reverberate off the other gongs placed about the mountain, thus causing our avalanches!  Terrific way to clear up some snow without the use of shovel or broom!”  She seemed very pleased with herself.
“Sounds fantastic.  I’d love to see it sometime.”
 “I guess we could set it off once you’re along in the lift.  Then you could view it from the bench?”  Hope offered, looking to Splenda for approval.
“Fine.” Splenda sighed. “Miss Smidge, up you go.  Once you’ve reached the bottom, climb on out and follow the trail.  It will lead up ‘round the bend and on into Tuesday.  I do hope you have a good journey.  It was a nice surprise to have you visit today.”
Splenda opened the little gate to the lift and I climbed on, settling my basket next to me.  The motor started up and off I went, swinging slowly through the chilly mountain air.  I looked back to see Hope pressing the gong button, a hammer come up to hit it and a loud gong sound echo through the mountains.  Seconds later a rumble started and snow began rushing and sliding and bouncing down the mountain.  Snowy mist and flakes floated up at me, but by then I was clear of it’s path.  It was a magnificent thing to see.
At the bottom, I opened the little gate and clumsily jumped off to the ground, landing on the snow shoes made of ice which had partially melted due to the warmer air at the bottom of the mountain.  Grabbing my basket, I set off walking along the trail until all of the snow and my snow shoes had completely melted and I only had leather straps hanging around my ankles.
       
          Remembering Splenda’s directions to follow the trail, up and ‘round the bend, I kept my eyes focused ahead waiting for the trail to curve.  Instead,  I saw ahead of me, a small building off to the right of the trail.  As I got closer I noticed it looked like a public sort of building. A store or eatery of some kind but without any door or windows.  I stepped off the trail and followed the building around one side and then to what should have been the back, except that is where I found a door and large windows and a big sign above the door saying “The Bend”, so then I assumed this was actually the front and went in.
As I entered the building, bells tinkled at the door and immediately a roundish old man, in brown pants, white shirt and a black apron, threw down a towel and rushed over to meet me.
 “Yes! There you are!  You’ve brought the buns!  I thought you’d never arrive!”  He said hastily, taking my basket.
“What?” I took my basket back. “ What buns?  Is this Tuesday?”  I asked the man.
“What?  Tuesday?  Of course not.  This is The Bend in Monday.”  He replied.
“Still Monday!  My but Monday takes an awful long time to get through!”  I said tiredly.  “I’m now really hungry and it looks like this might be a place to eat?”
 “Do you mean to say you haven’t brought the buns?”  The man asked gruffly.
 “I do.  I mean, I don’t.  I mean, I haven’t”  I answer.
 “But you’ve come from Sunday?”  He asks.
 “I have.”  I answer.
“But brought no buns?”  He asks again.
“Should I have?  Have you got anything here to eat?”  I ask in return.
 “Well now, how could I if you say you haven’t brought the buns from Sunday?  I’ve been here waiting and waiting and you’ve brought no buns!” he shouts.
“Er, right, well, I did make some but gave most of them to Mr. Curmudgeon, then there was tee dotting and the well to tour, the Mayor sent me on to Sunday where there was a joust you see and it didn’t end well and then...”
“I’m completely un-convinceable! So don’t even try!”   He cuts me off.
“Are you?  Ah, well, I haven’t got them.” I say. “So... so there Sir!”
 His shoulders slump and he resigns to go back to the counter at the far end of the room.  I look around and note four small wooden tables, each with four chairs stacked upon them.  A dusty piano sits in a corner and a large stone fireplace on the opposite wall, roaring and crackling, with two large rockers in front of it.
 I feel things have started off wrong and my feet inside my boots are wet and cold from the melted snow and I’ve not had a proper rest since, well, I’m not sure when.
The man is wiping down the counter with his towel trying to ignore me.  I set down my basket and take off my gloves from Karo and walk over to the counter.
 “I’m Justa Smidge.” I introduce myself holding out my hand.  He eyes my tableware rings, sighs, puts down his towel and grasps my hand in a friendly shake.
 “Solomon Swear.  I own the place.”
 “Well, Solomon Swear, have you by any chance got any cinnamon sitting in your cupboards?”
He narrows his eyes at me and answers “I have.”
“And do you have any flour?”  I ask.
“I do!”  He replies.
“Well, then, if you’ll allow me to sit and dry out my boots by your nice fire over there, I believe I can help you with the bun situation.  You see, I make an excellent cinnamon bun.”  And I might actually get something to eat around here! I think to myself.
 “I accept!”  Solomon very happily pulls forward one of the rockers and gestures for me to sit in it and then rushes off to the back of the building, no doubt to rustle up the ingredients I’ll be needing.
As we sat by the fire, waiting for the buns to rise, we got to talking about how Solomon had come to own ‘The Bend’.  Apparently he’d been a judge for many years but as he grew older he found he was allergic to powdered wigs and had acquired carpal tunnel from all of the swinging of his gavel.  So it was then he decided to quit the courts and retire to a life of leisure and eatery ownership.
A couple of hours later, my boots are dry and my cinnamon buns are hot out of the oven.  After eating one and taking another in my basket for the road, I thank Solomon Swear and exit The Bend, leaving my gloves behind, as they are men’s gloves after all and will probably suit Solomon much better, especially since he’s much closer to a snowy mountain than I plan to be.

Chapter Four

                                                                                                                               

Just as there had been a sign welcoming me to Saturday, there was an equal sign, now behind me, bidding me farewell and to ‘Come Again!’  Ahead of me was a great expanse of hills, in all sizes and colors.  Mostly shades of green, brown or yellow with a few vibrant shades of purple, blue or orange due to wild flowers covering the tops like frosting on a cake.  There was a narrow road, so I chose to stick to that and assumed I was indeed headed into the ‘Hills of Sunday.’  Several hours passed and my poor tummy reminded me constantly that I hadn’t put anything in it.  I stopped for a minute and took a drink from the bottle of water I’d received from Dashing.  Yep, still good water.  I replaced the cap and settled it in my basket, then kept on walking, wondering all the while if I was going in the right direction and, if I did not cross paths with the Royal Mounty, if I should keep on over the hills or turn around and go back to Saturday.  If that were even possible, since now, presumably, I was well into Sunday and time still could not be turned back no matter how far into it you got.  As I pondered this, a pounding sound grew steadily louder, coming from the hills on my right.  I recalled for a moment that I’d once heard of people being crushed by stampeding buffalo, or packs of wolves eating them alive and thought maybe I should make a run for it, but to where I didn’t know and would I be fast enough to out run whatever it was pounding towards me?  So, there I was, out standing in the field, alone and slightly terrified when I saw just one horse with one man riding upon it rise over the hill.  Relief swept over me as he pulled his horse, his mighty big horse I might add, up to a stop, snorting and sweating and twitching like horses do that have been running awhile.
 “Ho!” He called to the horse. “Why aren’t you a picnic!” He exclaimed looking down at me.  He was quite a sight.  With navy pants, shining black boots, a bright red military style coat and shining buttons. He had honey colored skin and eyes and a wide brimmed, brown, felt hat sitting on top of what looked like red and gold maple leaves in place of hair, long enough to brush his collar.
 “Little Miss, are you out here alone?” He asked.
“Yes.” I replied. “I am and I’m relieved to see you, assuming you are the Canadi- er the RMP and these are the Hills of Sunday?”
 “I am.” He tipped his hat. “Acer, of the Royal Mounties and this,” he motioned toward his gleaming brown horse,  “is Sir Noble the Highest of horses and most trusted steed.  We’ve no doubt you’re relieved as most are the moment we arrive, but must ask, what is it you are doing out here alone and where shall we go to put you back where you belong?”  He straightened in his saddle and the horse began to nibble at the grass.
 “I’m Justa Smidge.  Usually I work the morning shift at the Haberdashery you see, but last night, er, well, Thursday it was, Thursday evening I was to close up the shop.  I haven’t finished my job and need to get back to do so as soon as possible.  Mrs, Moppins said to, well, actually, Dashing sent me on to, well, no, the Mayor of Saturday, drew me a map in the dust and sent me here to find you to get me back to the armoire?”  I tried to explain, not really knowing what he knew or who he knew and what and who he didn’t know.
“Sooo, you’ve not come out here for a picnic then?” He asked eyeing my basket.
 “No, though I see how you could assume that, me carrying a basket and with the lovely wild flowers out here.”
“Yes, that and ... other things.”  He glanced over my attire with a crooked smile on his face.  “What’s in the basket?”  His face went all serious and he sounded suspicious.
 “That’s the other thing,” I quickly replied,  “I’ve only got this bottle of water, from Mr. Dashing, at the well?  I never took my dinner break and now I find I’m starving!  Any place to stop and grab a bite along the way?” I ask.
 “Possibly.  We’ll get headed in the right direction at least.  Climb up here on Sir Noble though, there’s still quite a stretch to go.”  He unrolled a small rope ladder from the saddle and quite unsteadily, I climbed up it and hoisted myself onto the very tall horse, commenting on its height.
 “It’s all in the legs you see.  A horse is nothing without his legs and Sir Noble has the longest legs around.” He explained strapping my basket along side to a leather strap and instructing me to hold on tight. 
The ride was quite pleasant, galloping over the hills through the flowers and the breeze, and he smelled of leaves and brown sugar with the occasional whiff of warm butter or maybe my aching tummy was playing tricks on me.
Suddenly he pulled up on the reins and Sir Noble slowed to a stop.  “Rrrgghh, I should have expected this.” Acer growled.
 I looked over his shoulder,  beyond his leafy hair and across a small stream. On the top of another hill was another man riding a large horse.  Only this horse was pure white, with a snowy mane and tail and the man was wearing gleaming white-gold armor.  He had pale skin and long shiny, yellow hair, like corn silk.
“Karo.” Said Acer through gritted teeth.  He narrowed his eyes and called out to the armored man, “Karo!  What do you want?!”
 The pale man called back, “Acer!  So good to see you!  It is Sunday my good man and on Sunday we joust!”  He raised a jousting lance in demonstration.
“We’ll have to forego the jousting this time Good Fellow, I’m on a mission currently.”  Acer nodded his head towards me and pulled his horse around so Karo could view me better.
 Karo’s eyes lit up as he called out,  “Are you finally on an actual mission Acer or are you on a picnic?!  I love picnics! Trot on over to my side of the hill here and we’ll all set one out together!”
 “No time Karo, no time today!  Miss Smidge here is on her way to Thursday and I will be escorting her.” Acer stated, backing Sir Noble up a step.
“No picnic and no jousting?  You know very well, Acer, that you can not pass straight through Sunday without a joust!  I was willing to consider it in lieu of a picnic but I must insist on one or the other.”  Karo’s eyes were narrowed now and his tone much less friendly.
Patting Acer on the shoulder, I whispered “I haven’t got a picnic, Acer, as you well know, so we can’t offer him one.  Is this a usual challenge?”  I asked quietly.
 “Karo always demands a joust before passing through his side of the hills in Sunday. He’s the Colonel of all of the corn in these hills and gets quite bored patrolling the fences.  Not much action out here, I say regretfully.   We must pass through to get you on to Monday and so forth.  I’m afraid I can not avoid it.” He whispered back. 
“Very well, Karo, we will joust, since I must get Miss Smidge through.”  Acer called out.
 “Aha!  You’ve come to your senses.  I say we make it more exciting than usual though, what with having a guest this Sunday.  I say, the winner of the joust will be the one to escort Miss Smidge, and her picnic, on through.”
“ I don’t think that’s necessary at all!”  I called over to the intimidating Karo.
“I make the rules and the rules have been made!” Karo yelled out cutting me off.  “Off that high horse now and stand over there out of the way.  Can’t have a skewered picnic.”
 Acer helped me off and handed me my mostly empty basket and I backed a few paces away and sat down among some white daisies.  Acer coaxed Sir Noble through the creek and onto the other hill and both men rode off in opposite directions.  They stopped several yards away from one another and turned around.  Karo raised his lance and Acer took out a long sword, still in it’s black sheath.  Both men spoke into their horses ears and the beasts reared up on hind legs, then took off towards each other at full speed.  I covered my eyes with my hands but dared look through my fingers.  Seconds later the horses passed within inches of each other, Acer’s sword glanced off of Karo’s immaculate armor and Karo’s lance hit Acer in the shoulder, knocking him back and somersaulting him off his high horse and rolling down the hill into the creek.
I squealed in alarm and ran quickly down the hill to find him climbing out of the water and straightening his uniform.  His hat was lying back at the top of the hill where he’d come off the horse and the leaves on his head were sticking out in all directions.
 “Oh, dear, are you alright?  Are you hurt?” I ask, not sure how I can help.
“Only my pride, Miss Smidge, only my pride.  I’m very sorry you had to see that, though I’m convinced it’s not a fair game.”  He looked up at me a bit sheepish. “Also sorry to say this means Karo will get to escort you the rest of the way.”  He kicked a small rock back into the creek and started up the hill after his steed, who had picked up Acer’s hat in his teeth and stood there waiting to hand it to his master.
 I followed on up and Karo galloped in beside me, all gleaming and glittering in the sunlight, barely a smudge on his perfect armor.  He held out a white gloved hand and pulled me up behind him onto the back of his horse, which was not as high as Sir Noble but had a certain arrogance about it just the same.
 “A deal is a deal, Miss Smidge is it?  I shall now be your escort the rest of the way through Sunday.  What have you brought us to snack on?”  He peeked inside my basket before tying it onto his own saddle and sat back abruptly.  “There’s nothing in here but a bottle of water!” he glared at me.
“I never said anything about a picnic or there being food.” I answered “You concluded that yourself when making the rules of your joust.”  I turned up my nose at him and looked off to the side.  He may have won the joust but I would not give him the satisfaction of winning my friendship.
 “I was so looking forward to a feast of pancakes and eggs.  Or maybe french toast with a side of ham!  A bacon and cheese omelet?  Even just a muffin.  Hmmmfff.”  Karo turned tossing the water lightly back into the basket and then turned his horse.
 “You sure you wanted a picnic?  That all sounds more like a breakfast buffet.” I mutter.
Then I turned to see Acer, back on Sir Noble at the edge of the creek.  I waved and called out a thank you as Karo said back over his shoulder, “Nothing’s better than breakfast in Sunday Miss Smidge!”  And off we trotted toward the distant hills and even larger looming mountains with the sun barely visible behind them.
I noticed, now that I was sitting so closely behind him, that Karo’s armor was melded to look like metal corn kernels all the way up and this got me thinking about food which reminded my tummy that it was quite hungry.
Nearing the mountains I gathered the courage to tap Karo on the shoulder and ask, “Is there a chance of finding something to eat near by?  It’s been quite a journey so far and I’m famished!”
 Karo replied by turning his head back and saying, “It’s been no picnic for me either Miss and no where to stop before we reach Monday Mountains.  I’m not one for cooking or any type of domestic work.”
 “ No, of course not.” I mutter dryly. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish your image or your armor.”
 “Now, now,” He scolded, “I’ve done my fair share by getting you this far.  I’ll take you to the edge of Monday.  The ladies up there will be far better at hostessing than I am.  They should get you right again and show you your way.
It began to snow lightly and the ground turned frozen and peaks rose above us.  He called his horse to a stop and stepped off, helping me down.
“You’re leaving me here?  I’m not sure what to do!”  My lip trembled.  I was so tired and I just wanted to close the shop and go on home.  “It’s not as bad as all that.”  Karo said gruffly, shuffling his feet in the snow.  Flakes were settling on his armor, leaving little water marks which he gave an irritated glance at.  “Here, take these.” He lifted the flap on a golden saddle bag and pulled out a soft pair of white leather gloves, just like the ones he was wearing and handed them to me.  I took them and put them on.  They were large for my hands and came almost to my shoulder but they did help to keep out the chill from the snow.  “Thank you, they’re lovely.”  I sniffed.
 “Now,”  he said climbing back onto his horse,  “Go around those rocks there and you’ll be right on into Monday Mountains.  The ladies shouldn’t be far.  You’ll hear them before you see them.  You’ll be in good hands.  Take care now and best of luck!”  And with that he kicked his heels into his horse and they whirled around and were off, disappearing over a light green hill.

Chapter Three

                                                                          

I was through Friday Square quite quickly, up the cobbled street, the rooftops ahead getting closer with each step until I was upon them and a large sign stood in front of an arch which read, “ Welcome to Saturday.”  I ventured through the arch, my bottle of water now nestled in my skirt pocket.  The roofs I’d seen from Friday, were ordinary roofs, but not set upon ordinary houses.  Some of the structures were made of brambles, some made of tin.  The ones made of dried mud looked to be shops of different kinds.  I kept on walking further into the town, coming closer to what I hoped would be the center and possibly where I’d find a Mayor.
I noticed a tall building, one made of tin, with smoke rising from the chimney in the building’s roof.  It looked as though someone might be home so I stepped over and rapped on the door.  There was no answer but I could hear a loud noise coming from inside.  I opened the door and immediately covered my ears as the whole place was buzzing and humming with the sound of machinery.  I looked past a front counter to see two figures, one a hugely gigantic fellow with long black hair, parts of which were braided and banded with rings of metal and an equally long black beard, also braided with bits of tin at the ends.  He had what looked like a welding mask over his head and was wearing black overalls with a giant tin apron covering his whole front with grommets holding on tin pockets which held assorted tools.  Next to him was a short plump girl with a snub nose stuck in the middle of a round pink face framed by flaming red, curly hair which was tied off in pig tails.  She was wearing a men’s style tuxedo, complete with coat and tails!  Both were looking down at drawings on a work bench.
“Excuse me!”  I shouted over the noise.
The big fellow turned around noticing me.  He paused and then reached over and turned off the machinery which was causing all the noise.  “HELP YOU?!”  He yelled very loudly and came over to a counter at the front of the room.
“I’m looking for the Mayor!”  I shouted back, then realizing I was shouting I asked more quietly,  "Can you tell me where I might find the Mayor?”
The short girl came tromping up to stand in front of me.  She looked me over with small brown eyes which stopped when they reached my hands.
 “Is that tableware?” She asked in a nasally tone.
“Yes." I sighed.  If I’d known my rings would attract so much attention I might have chosen differently.  "As handy as it is keeping utensils at my fingertips, I haven’t had the chance to use them today as I’ve skipped both lunch and supper.” I explained hastily “ Maybe you can help me, I’m in search of the Mayor of this town?”
The short girl shoved out her chubby hand at me and stated ,
“Pree Thigs.  Mayor of Saturday.  Noice to have a visitor Miss...?”
 “Justa Smidge.” I replied shaking her hand, quite surprised to find such a young girl as the Mayor of a town.
“Well, Smidge, what’s ya needin’ a Mayor for today?”
“MAYBE SHE’S HERE TO HELP US WIT THE PLANS!  YOU HERE TO HELP WIT THE PLANS?”  The big fellow shouted right in front of us.
 I covered my ears and took a step back.
“Who’s he and why does he keep shouting?”  I asked Pree.
 “That’s Tinny Tim.  Hard of hearin’ he is.  Cause of all the machines & what not. He owns this place.” She explained pointing at a sign above the counter reading ‘Tinny Tim’s Metal Fabricating.’
“I see, of course.  Fascinating assembly he’s wearing!  Is that a metal apron?”  I ask looking appreciatively at the grommets holding on the pockets and the straps.  I must remember this construction for Mr. Curmudgeon.  Maybe display something like this in the front window next month! 
“You bet!  Best thing to bounce the sparks off of him while cuttin’ the metal.  Otherwise all his shirts would be so full o’ holes we could use them to strain the bathwater.”  Pree answers.
“Strain the bathwater?  Why ever would one need to do that?”  I ask.
“Conservation of course!  Get the most use out of every possible thing!  That’s our motto ‘round here.  Now, again, what can I help you with?”
“SHE’S THE MAYOR.  BEST MAYOR AROUND.  IF YOU’RE HERE TO HELP, WE’RE GOING OVER THE PLANS FOR THE NEW MAYOR’S OFFICE.  GONNA BUILD THE BIGGEST CITY EVER.  PREE HERE’LL RUN IT.”  Tinny Tim shouted again.
“Aww, none a that now Tim.” Pree shrugged off the compliment then whispered towards me, “Never take much stock in what Tim says - he’s a fabricator after all.”   She motioned for me to follow along as she waved to Tim and pushed out the door.  We then turned to walk up the street.
“I need to get back to Thursday so I can properly close up the haberdashery where I work, maybe you’ve heard of it?  Royal Curmudgeon’s?  Anyhow, Mr. Dashing said I should come and find you and you could show me the way?  I’m also getting quite hungry and would like to find a place to eat.” I explained to her along the way.
  Pree was huffing and puffing a bit, her short little legs walking quickly toward a large hay stack.  She rounded one side of the stack and pulled on a twig which opened a door.
“Well, come on in then, Saturday’s a hospitality type a town and I’m a hospitality type a mayor.  My house is your house for the moment.”  And she went inside the haystack.  I followed her through the door and over to a large table covered in, well, things.  Things of all sorts.  But mostly dust.  The whole of the inside was covered in dust.  Pree began wiping a cup off with a dusty piece of cloth.  “Let’s have a look see at what we might eat and I’ll mark out a map for you’se on how to get to , was it Thursday was it?”  By the time she got through the sentence she was quite red in the face and her voice was all raspy.
“Are you alright Mayor Thigs?”  I took the cup and began to wipe it for her.
 “It’s just a cup and a map, why wouldn’t I be alright?” she asked wheezing heavily.
“Your face has gone all red.”  I pointed out.
“Really, like that is it?”  She stared up at me, face getting redder. “I welcome you to (wheeze)  town, bring you into my (wheeze) home, I do, and you gotta be so rude as to bring up me hay fever?” 
“Oh, well, no, I was only concerned, you seem to be having troubles breathing as well.”
“And me asthma! (wheeze)  Where are your manners young lady?  Anythin’ more you’d like to point out hmmm?  Or shall we get right to it and get you on your way?”
 I stifle a chuckle at her reaction because I was certain I was years beyond her own age and here she was calling me ‘young lady’.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend, if you’re alright, then I’ll forget all about it.”
 Pree glared at me for a moment.
“Naw, it’s alright,  just the allergy season is all, makes it a bit worse for me.  Got so much to do ‘round here I forget about it mostly.”  She softened and her face became slightly less red.
“Well, you do live in a haystack you realize and a dusty one at that?” I pointed out, looking around the room.
“Now I’ve got health reasons for that!” She snapped.
“For that or because of it?”  I corrected. 
“I means what I says and says what I means.  Best house in town!  Keeps the rain off me things and the temperature mild too.  I used to be a professional feather duster.  Before me career as Mayor.  Had to quit the first job when me asthma started up cause o’ all the dustin’.  Now I stay away from any kind o’ dustin’ so’s not to bother me lungs.  Doctor’s orders!  ‘No more dustin’ feathers Pree.’ He says.  I was upset o’ course, din’t know what I’d do with me life.  Then this place needed a Mayor and me future was set, seein’ as I already had the coat and a rather mayoral demeanor.  So,  ‘ere I am in me wonderful house o’ hay.    ‘Sides, not like I could get one out of boards what with our shortage in trees you hear.  No choppin’ allowed in these parts.  Not like what you’ve gone and done for them boots you’se wearin’.” Pree points down to my boots with disdain.
 I pick up one foot and place it on a near by stool so she can get a closer look.
“These aren’t real tree bark!”  I exclaim proudly.  “They’re made of the finest leather and ever so soft!  Just feel them!”
Pree rubs the leather between her chubby fingers.
“Leather you say?  Hmmm.... leather.  Might, (wheeze)  just have to take a look at what it takes for building permits.  Yes! (wheeze)  Brilliant you are Smidge!  Leather houses!” She hopped toward the door to leave.
“Wait!  Where are you going?  What about the map?  And food?”  I call after her.
“Aha, roight, got so much to do as Mayor I do, you go on and stay as long as ye like, think I might have some apples in a basket there somewhere, or maybe it were oranges?”
 She rushed back into the house, brushing clutter off of the large table and using her finger, drew a line in the dust and topped it with an X.
 “There, follow that line, that’ll take ya to the Hills of Sunday.  The RMCP will get ya movin’ the right direction.”  She rolled her eyes at this and aimed the dusty finger at a large basket in the corner of the room. “There’s them apple oranges I be thinkin’ of.  Take what ye want.  My house is your house!”  She made to escape through the door again so I stepped in the way
“RMCP? Is that some sort of taxi or trolley?”  I asked ,hopeful that maybe she had some sort of transportation I could use.
 Pree stopped short. “You are an odd girl Smidge!  Go well with that duck of Tom’s you’se would.  R. M. C. P.” She exaggerated.   “Royal Mounty Po-leese! A Canadian!”  She whispered rather excitedly.
 I let out an “Eep!”
“Yeeeeaahh, the Canadian’s are eep worthy.  But maybe not this one as much. Never got over bein’ let go by the Mounties.  Still thinks he’s doin’ good out and about & savin’ nobody.  Just wanderin’ around them hills with the frilly flowers talkin’ all his noble talk ‘bout duty and such.   Never get’s off his high horse and travels far too much, but he should be able to get you’se where ya need and he’s usually roun’ them hills in Sunday.  Follow that mark!  Nice meetin’ ya Smidge.  Do come back again and bring folks with ya!  With leather!  Up the population it would, better for both town and people!”  And off she ran as fast as her little legs could take her back towards the tin building with the smoking chimney.
 I thought to follow her but realized there probably wasn’t more she could give me in the way of information so I went to the basket in the corner for the food and using my hand, wiped a layer of dust off the round fruit piled inside it.  It felt rather odd, so I picked up one that resembled an apple and shined it up on my legging.  It seemed to have a waxy skin so using my knife ring, I made a small slice through it.  Not just the skin was waxy.  The whole fruit was made of wax.  I quickly went through the rest in the basket to find they were all made of wax.  My tummy rumbled.  Apparently, I wasn’t going to get supper here.  The basket was nicely made though and Pree did say to take what I wanted, so dumping out the wax fruit onto a pile of dust covered objects in the corner, I slung the basket over my arm by it’s handle and left the haystack, closing the door behind me.
 Pree’s line in the dust on her table had been straight so I deduced by the curved road on my left and the curved road on my right, that I was supposed to follow the straight road in front of me, hoping that would lead me to the Hills of Sunday and the Canadian.

Chapter Two

Waving goodbye to Perry Moppins’ retreating form, I stood up and began to follow the path, lined on both sides by brightly colored leafy trees.  A slight breeze was causing them all to wave at me as I passed so I waggled my ringed fingers right back at them, it felt the polite thing to do, and breathed in their fresh, earthy scent.  The path opened up to a narrow cobbled street and as I set a brisk pace down toward what looked to be a town square, my mouth getting drier by the minute, I looked for that ‘tall drink of water’ promised by Mrs. Moppins.  I stopped dead in my tracks, for there, way up on stilts was the most handsome thing I’d ever seen!
 “Hello there fine lady! Welcome to Friday Square.  Might I offer you a drink?”
 I don’t know if it was shock, shyness or the fact that my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth but I could get no words out to answer the man, who was attempting to hand down a sparkling glass of water.  “I’m Dashing.” He said with a smile, showing off his perfectly white teeth and shining green eyes.
“You are!”  Came flying out of my mouth which I quickly corrected with “Ahrrm, are you?”
 I accepted the glass and drank it down trying not to gulp rudely.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you around here before.  Such a pretty thing I’m sure I’d remember.”  He extended his hand in greeting.
 “Oh, I - I usually work the morning shift you see - I’m Justa Smidge.  Thank you for the water, it’s the best I’ve ever had.” This was no lie, I’d never had water this good.   I stood up on tip toe and took his hand, grasping it lightly to return the greeting.
“Is that tableware clinging to your beautiful fingers?” He asked 
“It is.” I answered smiling then asked him, “What’s with the stilts?”  He seemed plenty tall on his own with out them.
 “Why, I’m the well operator for Friday Square.  I must be on stilts to reach the top of the well.” He motioned with his hand down toward the center of the square where there most certainly was a large well, only it was towering up into the air instead of being dug into the ground.
“I see,” I replied, “I’m sure you operate it very well.” 
“Would you like to come up here with me? I could show you how to operate it. I have another set of stilts and it would be my pleasure to show you into town.”  He offered, his smile turning hopeful.
“As interesting as that sounds Mr. Dashing, and as wonderful as it’s been to meet you, that lovely drink of water has cleared my head and I’ve realized I’ve been gone much longer than anticipated and I’m still needed to close up shop at the haberdashery so I must be getting back.”       
 “Back to where lovely Miss Smidge?”  Dashing bent lower with a questioning look.
 “Why, back through the tee grounds to the armoire.”  I turned back looking to the path I’d just traveled.
“Back to Thursday Grounds?  From Friday Square?”  He asked.
 “Yes, yes, that’s it, Thursday Grounds, Perry did call them that didn’t she.”
“I’m sorry dear lady, no one can go back to Thursday from Friday, it just can’t be done.  Although the idea of turning back time is intriguing, many have wished to do just that, but usually to take back wrinkles and graying hair, none of which a lady so pretty and young as yourself might have need for.”  He explained in a kind voice, now giving me a sad smile.
“But I must!  Mr. Curmudgeon is expecting me to close up shop tonight, I just can’t disappoint him, not now that he’s trusting me with so much responsibility! I must get back to the armoire right away!”  I said firmly. “Is there another way there?”
“Well, yes,  if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you up past the well to the edge of Saturday and then you’ll have to travel to, yes, well, hmm..” He looked to be thinking, squinting his eyes and tipping his head to the sky.  “Please allow me first to show you around the well before you leave, won’t you?”  He looked as though he really would like me to stay awhile and he was so nice and so dashing that I relented.
“Alright.  Yes, I’d like very much for you to show me around your well.”
His face lit up.  “Wonderful!  This way then!”
 I followed along side of him, passing by several small cottages and a giant fountain spurting water out of the feet of some statue and into the air, none of which he mentioned.  I craned my neck to see him as he spoke and pointed out different interesting aspects of his well.  A stone shelf here, a pulley there, a bird’s nest tucked up under the eaves of the small well roof.  He quite literally walked around the circular structure of the well back to where we’d started.  Then he stopped abruptly and said, “Right, well, that’s it then.  Some days I wish this were a much bigger well.”  He looked to be contemplating the idea.  “Once you reach the town of Saturday," he pointed off down the road  "you can find the Mayor and she’ll take it from there.” He sighed.  “I would have liked to spend more time with such a lovely lady as yourself, show you the ropes if you will, it’s not often we get visitors and Friday is always a good time.  Allow me to offer you a drink for the road?”  He pulled from a shelf built into the side of the well, a clear, glass bottle of water and handed it down to me.  “Couldn’t have you telling others you’d come to the well at Friday Square and left thirsty now.”
“And I would have enjoyed seeing the ropes.  Perhaps another time?”  I said, relieved to find him willing to show me my way back.
 “Very well, this way. “  His long strides on stilts taking him to the square with minimal steps.  I had to hurry to keep up. 
“Thank you kindly Mr. Dashing.  I won’t forget you.”
“Happy to be of service Miss Smidge.  Now, just there, across the square to the edge of those roof tops you’ll find the Town of Saturday.  Look for the Mayor.  She’s always about and very nosy, if you know what I mean, she’ll notice a visitor.  Probably see you before you see her.”  He winked and then turned back to the well and began cranking a wheel, which lowered a rope, which lowered a bucket, and I was on my way.