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Brialeanna and the Beast
Or Moo the Musical

Once upon a time there was a poor blood elf farmer from Eversong Woods near Fairbreeze Village who had a beautiful daughter. In fact, she was so beautiful that everyone called her "Beauty," even though her name was Brialeanna.

The year that Beauty was level eighteen the weather was very bad and the farmer's crops failed—he was able to harvest only enough to feed his family for half the year, with nothing left over to take to market, so he sent Beauty into the nearby forest to gather root and thorns, while he ventured closer to the Scorched Grove to gather whatever bloodthistle he could find.

Now, deep within that forest traveling on an important quest was a terrible beast, an enormous tauren named Bonden, who destroyed whatever hapless victims he could find wandering there alone. He heard Beauty moving through the underbrush and quietly crept up to capture her, but when his eyes happened upon her, the great tauren immediately fell in love and could not bear to think of any harm coming to such a lovely blood elf, so he silently withdrew to seek other prey. Soon afterwards, he came upon Beauty's father busily collecting bloodthistle to sell at market.

When the blood elf was captured and the tauren explained that the farmer was to be taken to Stranglethorn Vale where he would be thrown into the arena to fight for his life, the distraught father wailed, "I am no warrior, surely I will die! What will become of my little Beauty and my wife Eunice without me to work the farm, and even without my returning with the bloodthistle I have gathered today? They will starve!"

"Beauty?" said the Beast, remembering the blood elf girl he had seen not long before and thinking that would be an entirely appropriate name for her.

"My daughter. She has come into the forest, too, to gather earth root and briarthorn. Oh, I should not have said that! Now you will find her and capture her too!"

"Is she the beautiful young blood elf wearing a gray woolen robe, a pretty malachite pendant and carrying a red leather bag?

"Yes. Oh, you have already found and taken her! Woe! Woe! You may as well slay me, now. I have nothing left to live for."

"I haven't touched her! I saw her and fell in love with her and would never harm her. For her sake, I will even let you go, if you will bring her to me so that I may marry her."

This posed a problem for the farmer. With Beauty still alive, and unlikely to be harmed by the Beast, he no longer wished to die. But to condemn her to be married to such a horrible beast . . . that was not a fate she deserved.

"Could she come home to visit us every day?"

"No, but one day a year she can go for a visit, if she wishes."

"And no harm will come to her?"

"Absolutely none. I love her and want only the best for her. She will live in luxury, for my home is an enchanted palace far away in Mulgore."

"I'm not sure she will agree to marry you."

"Then I will come and I will capture you wherever you are, then I will slay you before your family and loot you for everything you own, a paltry prize I’m sure, but loot, nonetheless. So you had better persuade her to agree."

"I will do my best."

When Beauty heard that the alternative to her marrying the Beast was for her father to be slain and looted by the fierce tauren, she did not hesitate. She was a pure and innocent young girl, but she knew where her duty lay.

Dressed in her finest gown, she went with her father to the waters edge of the Azurebreeze coast—her mother was too upset to come with them—onto a clear beach the Beast had pointed out to the farmer. There was nothing there but a small, cute and docile looking manatee.

"I am to lead you to the palace of the Beast," said the manatee. "Your father may go no further."

So, after a tearful farewell, the farmer left his daughter, who followed the manatee across the great sea, then as the manatee took to cat form they ran along a twisting route, taking a branching path, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left, but so irregularly that Beauty could not keep track of the way. Finally, they came to a place in a green valley where sat a tiny castle covered by overarching tree branches.

"It's so small!" said Beauty ever so disappointed. "I'm not sure I will fit insinde."

"It's an enchanted castle," said the cat, "larger on the inside than on the outside, as you will see as soon as you step through the doorway."

And so it was. Beauty stood marveling at the large entrance hallway lined with rich tapestries and furnishings, with a grand staircase with ornately carved balustrades that rose at the back and divided, to the right and to the left, ending at each side in an archway in the wall beneath the high ceiling.

The cat had followed Beauty into the castle. Sensing some movement behind her, Beauty turned to see the cat growing larger and larger, changing shape, and being transformed into a large, fearsome monster. She fainted.

Beauty awoke to find herself lying on a soft, silk-covered bed. Gradually recovering her wits, she half opened her eyes and turned her head, to see the tauren sitting quietly in a nearby chair, close but not too near the bedside. The expression on his face was as close to tenderness as was possible on such a visage, and his brown eyes had a soft, adoring look, or so Beauty interpreted. The mirror on the wall behind him showed the top of a broad back covered with black coarse hair, and the snout that protruded beneath soft brown eyes bore a gold ring through the nostrils, but he was not quite so repulsive as he had seemed at first glance.

When he saw that Beauty was conscious again Bonden rose gently from his seat, came to the bedside, took her hand gently and drew her up to stand before him.

"I want only to love you, not to frighten nor harm you. I live this way in this place because of a spell cast upon me by an evil gnome mage. Perhaps if you kiss me, it may break the spell, but, in any case remember, this is an enchanted castle and natures and appearances can change to meet your desires. You may close your eyes while I kiss you, then gaze into the mirror and you will see the guise I should assume that would please you, for I can take on any form that you desire."

Repressing a shudder, Beauty closed her eyes. A few moments later she felt moist lips press upon hers, and a kiss such as she had never had at home from her mother or father drew the very breath from her body, starting from her toes and rising gradually through her up to her mouth, leaving behind a vast emptiness longing to be filled, and while her lips tasted sweetness, yet they were aflame. To keep from falling into the abyss that seemed to open before her, she wrapped her arms around the body of the Beast and held tightly to him, until, an eternity later, he drew back and she opened her eyes.

Gazing into the mirror her vision was blurred, but as she tried to focus on the face and form of the Beast, she saw that he had changed from the horrible monster with the animal horns and ringed snout that Brialeanna had first seen. Now he had broad shoulders, and a blood elf’s demeanor. His elongated face transformed into and elfish cameo with a beautiful alabaster smile, while his ears pulled back to show long point pointy tips. His large eyes flashed with fire, as he now was revealed in majesty before her.

"What form did you wish me to change into?" asked the former Beast.
"None but what you are. You are magnificently handsome. I have never before seen such a powerful, impressive creature." And she once again raised her glance to the mirror behind him and longingly saw that elegant Blood Elf posture. She saw also that a pretty, gentle, sweet-faced heifer stood before him with a gaze of adulation at her lover.

MORAL: It's not so easy to rise above our animal natures.

THE NOS-FERALAS

She comes by night, and even by day, to fang my socks and my unsuspecting feet.

She lives like any legendary urban myth: everyone who has never seen her claims she does not exist, is a hoax or a figment of my too-active imagination. But those who have been victim to her evil mark, her lightning-swift appearance and sudden disappearance into darkness, know the truth.

The Nos-Feralas is out there. No ankle is safe, no unattended shoe, no piece of cloth or leather item left a moment unwatched.

I have proof: my wading boots leak from the fangings they have suffered. Alas, rendered disposable I have laid them to rest beyond the reach of sinister eyes. They adorn the feet of some one homeless now, I suspect, but they too shall suffer. The mark of Nos-Feralas will never be erased. The holes in the toes will ever leak relentless rain upon the tootsies of yet another hapless victim.

And there are countless victims, such as the stuffed toys that leak fluff from fabric wounds. They know not why they have been attacked. Their glazed plastic eyes speak volumes of the horrors to which their thread-stitched mouths cannot scream.

When the scrambling sound of her clawed feet is heard upon the hardwood deck, the other cats flatten their scarred ears and hide. They know the terror of Nos-Feralas.

Cheese on counter top can be found with gouges taken from its soft flesh. None are safe from the predations of the she-fiend Nos-Feralas. Not the young, smooth skinned Gouda, nor the ancient sharp cheddar. They both succumb to the mark of the fang.

The four-post bed that stands beneath a bay window mired by wet nose prints may hold such horrors, that only the bravest dare slip between the chilly sheets without a glance in search of furious eyes, glaring with malevolence and glowing with the unhealthy desire for tender tarsals.

She knows no fear. Her strike is swift. None but the most righteous boot may stand before the fiend. And we know their fate. Pity the boot that gives such stalwart service, only to be reduced to rubbish in the battle against the Nos-Feralas.

Vampire Kitty I hunt thee armed with nail clipper and toothbrush. Someday fiend, I shall be victorious. I hear the soft purr of your chuckling, wicked one. Laugh now, for tomorrow you may be vaccinated....

T-day fallout

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving, I went down to Rocklin and had a fantastic time, meeting new friends and gathering with family.

What did you do?

A Spotlight on Mike Moment

When I was fifteen, I worked at Codo De Caza Country Club; an exclusive hide away and play zone for the ridiculously rich and famous, nestled at the end of a lonely road situated on a flat mesa above Trabuco Canyon. I lived in a residence at the Canyon Fire Station surrounded by Oneil Park and the official Girl Scout Campground alongside the usually dry Trabuco Creek.

One Saturday evening I was asked to stay over after working the Clay Pigeon Shoot-Out and BBQ all that afternoon where we roasted and served a whole pig to help out in the main dining room as apparently many of the inebriated guests from the earlier festivities decided to book reservations for dinner at the last moment thus engaging a full dining room for the evening. Additional tables were dressed for dinner outside near the pool and large outdoor heaters were set up to make the dining atmosphere bearable.

I agreed to the request eagerly and then called my brother who was supposed to pick me up at the end of my shift and notified him I would be working late. This was an opportunity I couldn’t miss out on, the gun-toting gentlemen at the BBQ were very generous in their tipping and I had already cleared a neat pile of cash and looked forward to an even larger reward that evening. As I recall it was a cluster buster, nothing at all went well. Murphy’s law was in effect the entire evening. Diners were piled into the lounge, the patio, and frustrated people were ordering food to take out, and the kitchen was utter chaos. Diners, like locust, cleaned out the kitchen larders and left nothing in their wake. Exhausted cooks were recruited to stay over and prep for the next morning as making the breakfast menu available for dinner was the only salvation the executive chef produced to sate the long line of hungry customers as steaks and crustaceans and poultry entered the endangered species list on the menu.

I even impressed Chef Gimbrone with an impromptu recipe of diced pork left over from the earlier BBQ tossed with egg noodles, shallots, sour cream, placed in individual ceramic casserole dishes and topped with shredded cheddar and parmesan cheeses then fired under the salamander broiler to a crisp and bubbly brown. The same dish was still being served in that dining room years later when I visited Frank Gimbrone just after I was discharged from the Navy. The meat had been changed to diced ham, the noodles were now cavatelli, and the cheeses were grated Cheshire and Red Leicester over a bed of shredded sharp Cheddar, someone had added spring peas to the mix but it was still a tribute to my imagination and on the spot creativity even as a teenager.

After a very long day and a massive cleanup of the kitchens aftermath, I met with Frank Gimbrone in the lounge and enjoyed a high ball of ginger ale and grenadine and listened to Melanie Safka as she sang a solo version of Big Yellow Taxi for the now dwindling crowd as she wrapped up her final set. We were discussing arrangements for me to get home when Melanie walked over. Even though I only had a learner’s permit, Frank had not hesitated in the past to loan me the keys to one of the catering vans. But this particular night he was weighing his options since the vans were still full of equipment and debris from the earlier BBQ.

I will never forget the moment that Melanie spoke. She said those magical words in a popular british accent that sent my head reeling. “I’ll give him a ride, where’s he live?”

Maybe it was fatigue, more likely just enormous bashful embarrassment but I was speechless. Frank asked with a wink and a smile if I would mind if she drove me home and all I could do was nod. Sure why not, I received a motherly hug from Raquel Welch, why not a cruise with Melanie Safka?

It was dark in the paved paradise that was our parking lot and quite honestly I have never been good with identifying cars, but my best guess is she drove either a BMW or more likely a Mercedes. It was a convertible and we were seated close to one another in leather bucket seats, but in the early morning hours with the late cool autumn weather the top remained up and we sat side-by-side listening to a tape of the Beatles singing Norwegian Wood. She lit up a joint and passed it to me as we pulled away from the gatehouse, and I puffed lightly on it, praying I wouldn’t choke or embarrass myself further and handed it back mumbling thank you under my breath. Not another word passed between us as we drove the short distance to my home, and my mind spun a thousand miles an hour trying to form a scenario that would allow me to leave a positive impression on this beautiful, famous woman sitting beside me. But of course at fifteen the only thing I could offer to impress Melanie was my silence.

As she pulled up in front of the firehouse, and I turned to thank her for the ride, she said, “It’s been fun, we should do this again.” And kissed me on the cheek. I stood in front of the great fire engine garage for the longest time trying to make sense of what she said. I suppose on reflection it was a reflex response, something she said often and probably never gave it any thought. But I carried those words with me a very long time and still they stay in my memory sometime as fantasy, sometimes melancholy, but on occasion like now, those words represent an integral part of my growth into the man I am today.

Sherpa Kitty and the five magical beans

Recipe For Life - Stories: Further Tales of Sherpa Kitty

The Adventures of Sherpa Kitty

Another odd and bizarre dream unfolds as possibly a children's book. Any ideas how to go about finding an illustrator?

It was the night before Christmas

And just outside the City

Not a creature was stirring

Except for Sherpa Kitty!

Read an adventure of Sherpa Kitty