Rude Stories

by Jan Andrews

  He even has a lot of names. Sometimes he’s Nanabush, sometimes he’s Nanabozho, sometimes he’s Coyote.

  He’s holy and he’s tricky, if you can understand that. I don’t think I can, although I think that Native Peoples do. You might too, for all I know.

  He’s been with us since the beginning. He’s still with us to this day. You can’t even say “once” about him, not with any sense. There has to be a once though, doesn’t there?

  How about this then? Dogs are in the story. We’ll say it was the once when dogs were dogs already. They were like today. They came in all shapes and they came in all sizes. Some had spots and some didn’t; some had long hair and some had short. They all of them liked to be stroked; they all of them liked to be patted.

  There was just one thing about them that was different: when two dogs met, first thing they did was look into each other’s eyes and give a sort of bow.

  Weesageechuk was everywhere and all over, the way he always is. He had this little tepee. There were a lot of dogs living around it. I guess you might call them a pack. Maybe they barked and kept him awake at nights. Maybe they were after him to throw sticks when he was busy. Could be he just wanted to see what would happen. He wanted to have some fun.

  However it was – on that once morning – he woke up early. He went outside, he let out a whistle so the dogs would come.

  The dogs didn’t rush toward him, not all of them. They knew about Weesageechuk. They knew he might have something up his sleeve. Dogs don’t like to miss anything though, do they? It didn’t take long and they were gathered around him – some of them sitting, some of them standing, some of them pushing at his hands.

  “I’m having a party for you,” he told them.

  The dogs were pleased when they heard that. They wagged their tails. They threw back their heads; they started barking.

  Weesageechuk smiled at them. “It’s for all the dog people.”

  All the dog people! The dogs were panting with excitement. They were bounding up and down.

  “I want you to go and tell your friends about it,” said Weesageechuk.

  There were dogs now licking his feet.

  “When is that party?” asked the dog leader.

  “It’s on Friday,” said Weesageechuk. “You have to hurry. You can’t leave anyone out.”

  The dogs barked even louder. Some ran to the east, some ran to the north, some ran to the south, some ran to the west. Some ran to places that were in-between.

  “Weesageechuk’s having a party,” they told all the other dogs they came across. “It’s just for us. It’s for the dog people. There’s going to be food; there’s going to be drink. It’s next Friday.”

  The dogs they met (looking into each other’s eyes and bowing, mind) told more dogs – dogs who’d been scratching at fleas, dogs who’d been sleeping, dogs who’d been stretching, dogs who’d been taking themselves out for walks.

  Wherever the dogs were, they all of them stopped whatever they were doing as quickly as they could manage. They all of them started running to where Weesageechuk was.

  It wasn’t Friday yet, but they wanted to get there early. Pretty soon there was a great big crowd. The dogs didn’t know what to do with themselves, but they did know they had to be on their best behavior. They’d better not get into any fights.

  Even before they started arriving, Weesageechuk had been busy. There wasn’t just his tepee now. There was this brand new longhouse he’d been building. There was lots of room inside.

  “That’s for the party,” he told them. “That’s for you.”

  The dogs were impressed. No one had done anything like this for them for as long as they could remember.

  “Now,” said Weesageechuk, “I’m going hunting. You look after the longhouse. Guard it.”

  “We will,” said the leader of the dogs. “We will.”

  They did too. They also talked about what Weesageechuk might be hunting for. Weesageechuk was gone a couple of days. When he came back, he had more ducks and geese and moose and deer and bear meat than any of the dogs had ever dreamed of. The dogs could hardly contain themselves.

  “You wait,” said Weesageechuk. “There’s more.”

  He cooked up a pile of bannock for them to have as well. He saw to it there was plenty of water. He brought buckets and buckets. Some dogs were drooling (a few of them were sitting in puddles of drool, in fact).

  Thursday night, the drummers began to arrive. They went into the longhouse to practice. The dogs could hear them. They could also hear Weesageechuk giving his orders. “This is for the dogs. You’ve got to be good. The dogs are important. You’ve got to play your best.”

  Friday morning, the meat was in the pots. The meat was cooking. The dogs could smell it. They started licking themselves all over to make sure they were clean. They licked their backs, they licked their paws, they licked their unmentionables. They shook themselves to get all their hairs in the right places.

  Friday afternoon went by. The dogs couldn’t sit still. They just couldn’t. They started pacing about. Some of them were even whining.

  The sun went down. The moon rose.

  “All right,” said Weesageechuk. “It’s time.”

  The dogs got in a line. They arranged themselves in order, top dogs first. Weesageechuk opened the longhouse door.

  “The place is new. We have to keep everything tidy,” he told them. “That’s why you have to leave your rear ends hanging on those pegs there by the door.”

  The dogs were so eager. They didn’t think twice about it. They just did as they were told. They hung their rear ends up carefully, they hung them up politely, they hung them up in an orderly fashion.

  There was a nice fire in the middle of the longhouse for them to warm themselves by. The meal went on for hours. There was plenty for everyone. There was plenty for leftovers, in case any dog was hungry later and needed a snack. The dogs didn’t give their rear ends another thought.

  “Time for the dancing,” called Weesageechuk.

  The drummers started drumming. Some of the dogs had never danced before. Some of them were shy.

  “We can’t have anyone sitting out,” said Weesageechuk.

  Round the fire they went in a circle, round and round and round. They did the grass dance, they did the grouse dance, they did the tea dance. They did a bit of hip hop. There was even some break dancing – doggy kind of style.

  The fire burned low. Weesageechuk waited. He waited until the dogs were having such a fine old time of it they weren’t paying any attention to him. He threw a great bundle of pine branches onto the embers. All of a sudden there were flames leaping up toward the smoke hole. There were flames and there were sparks.

  “Fire!” Weesageechuk shouted.

  The dogs were frightened.

  “You’ve got to get out of here,” Weesageechuk yelled.

  The dogs went scrambling. They went running. They went to those pegs by the door. Trouble was, there were too many dogs all in one place now. They were tripping over each other.

  “You’ve got to hurry,” Weesageechuk cried.

  The dogs were hurrying. They were hurrying so much they reckoned they’d sort out their rear ends later. They grabbed whichever one came to paw. Big, small – it didn’t matter.

  “The forest will catch fire next,” Weesageechuk hollered.

  The dogs went off into the night. They ran in different directions. They’d gone quite a way before they realized there wasn’t a burning tree in sight. That’s when they knew Weesageechuk had got one over on them. That’s when they started thinking about how it would be better to have their own rear ends than the rear end that belonged to someone else.

  They tried to go looking for each other, but there were so many of them and they were scattered so far. Still, they didn’t give up. They looked and they looked. They’re still looking. You ever notice how when dogs get together, first thing they do is have a good sniff at each other in unseemly places? Your parents will
probably try to tell you it’s a doggy kind of greeting. You’ll know better. You’ll know the dogs are on the search.

  In the end, I’m not sure they came out of it all so badly. Sniffety, sniff, sniff. Wag, wag, wag. Seems to me they’re kind of enjoying themselves. They might even think Weesageechuk did them a favor. Sniffety, sniff, sniff. Wag, wag, wag.

  How could I be rude? Oh, how could I

  When I’ve been to the very best schools?

  I know how to walk most sedately.

  I know how to follow the rules.

  I know how to greet famous ladies.

  I know how to lift up my hat.

  To show them the frogs I’ve collected,

  The toads and the wasps and the bats.

  I know what you’re counting on for this one. You’re counting on another once. What kind of a person would I be if I disappointed you? Why would I even consider doing that?

  Here we go then – off to the once when birds wore hats and coats and collars and ties because they hadn’t any feathers yet, when lizards had to slither instead of darting because they kept tripping over their long, thin tongues.

  There’s nothing rude in that, I know, but surely by now you can trust I’ll get to the rude part when the time feels right.

  This once then – this polite once! – was when there were these two women. Their names were Ella and Bella. They were sisters. They lived on this farm. The farm had belonged to their parents. Ella and Bella had grown up on it. They loved it. They couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

  Ella was a slip of a thing. She had skinny arms. She had skinny legs. If you stood her sideways and looked at her, you’d think she wasn’t there at all.

  Bella was bigger; she was stronger. She could lift sacks of grain all day and think nothing of it. She could carry bales of hay in dozens from one field to the next.

  Her strength was very useful. Ella would have been grateful if it hadn’t been that Bella was always on at her, telling her if she’d just get down to it and eat more, she’d be lifting great loads too. Ella had no answer. She couldn’t say anything. She did her share. She worked in the house, she worked in the garden, she worked with the animals – but they both knew Bella could do all of that as well.

  Nag, nag, nag. I don’t think Bella really wanted help even. She just liked gloating. The day came when Ella found she was dreading mealtime. She was thinking she’d go stark and raving mad if she heard once more about how a puff of wind would blow her away if she didn’t finish the pile of meat and potatoes Bella had heaped on her plate.

  “If we could have a contest and I could beat you at something, would you leave me alone?” she asked Bella at last.

  “What kind of a contest?” Bella wanted to know.

  “A strength kind,” said Ella.

  “Eat your broccoli,” said Bella.

  “I don’t think broccoli has anything to do with what I’m thinking of,” said Ella.

  “And what would you be thinking of?” asked Bella.

  “I’m thinking I’m a better belcher,” said Ella.

  Bella laughed. She pushed out her chest. She took a deep breath. She let go a good one to show her abilities. The belch that came out of her almost shook the house.

  “And when will this contest be?” she demanded.

  “Tomorrow,” said Ella. “First thing in the morning, after we’ve done our chores.”

  “You’ve no hope,” said Bella. “But I don’t want you to embarrass yourself. I’ll go to the store. I’ll get you some fizzy pop.”

  Off she went. She brought back pop by the crate load.

  Ella stacked the crates up tidily. She looked at the pop, but she didn’t take even a sip. Bella went down to the basement to practice. Ella sat knitting a shawl.

  “You’ll need to be in bed early,” Bella told her sister.

  “Why would I need that?” Ella asked.

  “So you can get a good rest,” said Bella.

  Ella kept on with her knitting. She went to bed at her normal time.

  Bella went to bed too. She took some recipe books with her. She checked the ingredients for recipes like sugar pie and devil’s food cake she hadn’t tried on Ella yet.

  Won’t be much of a contest. We’ll be done by lunch for certain, Bella thought.

  Next morning they were both up early, having their breakfasts, doing the things that needed to be done. Bella added a few push-ups. She did them where Ella would see her.

  Ella made herself a cup of tea. She went to sit on the porch steps so she could drink it in peace. Bella came out to her. She had a dozen or so pop bottles under each arm. She set them down where Ella could reach them.

  “Is this where the contest’s to be?” Bella asked.

  Ella nodded. Bella sat beside her. She let go another one for good measure. The sound of it made Ella’s ears ring. She thought she’d be deaf for a week.

  “Are we competing for the loudest belch?” Bella asked.

  “No,” said Ella. “We’re not.”

  “What are we competing for then?” said Bella.

  “We’re competing for the belch that can do the most – the one that has the most power to it,” Ella replied.

  Bella wasn’t expecting that answer. Not that she was worried. She wasn’t worried at all. She crooked her right arm. She made her muscles bulge. She stood up. She did a few knee bends. She sat down again.

  “You could go first,” she suggested.

  “I’d rather you did,” Ella replied.

  Bella crooked her left arm. She made the muscles bulge there as well.

  “Remember what you have to do if I win,” said Ella.

  “I do remember,” said Bella.

  “I want you to promise,” said Ella.

  “I promise,” said Bella. “Would you like me to open a bottle of pop for you to drink while I’m starting us off?”

  Ella shook her head.

  I’ll go for something spectacular, Bella decided. I’ll get this over and done. She caught sight of the washing on the line. It was flapping in the wind. It was drying nicely. Say I caused the clothespins to pop, she thought to herself.

  What came out of her was like a volcano when it’s erupting. The clothespins flew off in all directions. The washing started drifting downward.

  Bella gave a grin of satisfaction. That should do it, she told herself.

  Ella thought about how she’d washed those sheets and shirts and petticoats. She considered how they’d get dirty on the ground, how they’d have to be done over. She didn’t seem to open her mouth hardly. There was a sound, but it was more like a whisper.

  The washing hung in the air a moment. It began raising itself back up. The clothespins came too. They set themselves back in their right places. The line was full again.

  Bella was surprised, I have to tell you. “I was just getting started,” she said to Ella.

  Ella didn’t answer.

  “Is it my turn again then?” Bella asked.

  “It is your turn,” said Ella, “but there isn’t any hurry.”

  Maybe that’s the key, thought Bella. Maybe I should go for long and slow.

  She took a look at the flowers in the garden. The belch that came out of her was like an earthquake when it’s getting going. The roses, the daisies, the petunias started bowing down their heads.

  It was the same as before. Maybe Ella had pursed her lips for a moment. Maybe she’d swallowed. Nothing else though. The flowers looked like they’d been given a watering. They were standing up better than before.

  “It’s a hot day,” said Bella.

  “It is,” said Ella.

  “The heat’s making me thirsty,” said Bella.

  “You could have a swig of the pop you bought,” said Ella.

  Bella downed half a bottle.

  “It’s warming up that matters,” she told her sister.

  Ella didn’t say anything.

  Third time will do it, Bella thought.

  “I’m going for
something we can’t even see,” she announced to Ella.

  “And what might that be?” Ella asked.

  “The cows in the cowshed. I’ll pull their tails,” said Bella.

  “They won’t like it,” said Ella.

  “I won’t hurt them,” said Bella. “I’ll just give the tails a tweak.”

  You could see now she was concentrating. She was putting everything she had into it. The belch she let out didn’t sound quite as loud as the others. Loud wasn’t the issue though, was it?

  One by one, the cows all started mooing. They were creating a ruckus.

  It was only for a minute. Ella gave a little wiggle. The moos changed. It was like something lovely was happening in that shed there – a taste of summer maybe.

  Ella looked satisfied. “I didn’t want the milk spoiled. I sent a breeze to calm them down,” she said.

  Bella was getting desperate. She picked up another bottle of pop. She knocked it back. “I think I’ll stand up for the next one,” she declared.

  Once more, Ella kept silent.

  Bella belched. The tractor started.

  Ella did shake her shoulders a little; she made the tractor go round the yard.

  Bella opened the yard gate. Ella shut it. Bella rattled the roof tiles. Ella set them straight. Bella was red in the face; she was sweating. Ella wasn’t.

  Bella was going through the pop like there was no tomorrow. Ella hadn’t touched it. Still, in a way, they were only even.

  “We’ll have to try something harder,” Ella said.

  Bella did her best not to look too terrified. She didn’t do much of a job of it. “Harder?” she squeaked out.

  “You see that willow tree?” Ella asked.

  “The one by the stream? The one that’s ten minutes’ walk away?”

  “Do you think you could stir that willow tree up a little?”

  Surely this’ll be the last, thought Bella. She took a while. She gave herself time to focus. She caused the willow leaves to move some. She couldn’t keep it up though.