I’ve been bouncing around a bit today.  You may remember I reviewed A Semester in the Life of a Garbage Bag by Gordon Korman a few months ago.  After that review, I wrote him a letter.  Well, I just got a personal email back.  Which has prompted a lot of “Gordon Korman wrote to ME!”  And a bit of bouncing.  Context for this excitement: I’ve been reading (and rereading) his novels since I was, I don’t know, ten.  Maybe younger.  And I own eighteen of them.  And there are some which rank easily among the funniest books I have ever read.

So.  Bouncing.

And having just had an email from one of my favorite writers of hilarious fiction, I think it’s a good time to share some humor for Fiction Friday.  My most absurdly humorous writing, barring some very early Star Trek parodies, is definitely my Pirates of the Caribbean novel-length extended joke (I hesitate to really call it a novel, because there isn’t a plot!)  So here you are: a scene from Cornfield Madness.  The only context you need is a basic familiarity with the characters of Jack Sparrow (Captain) and Will Turner, who are currently wandering around in a cornfield in the middle of the night, trying to avoid Navy sailors who are chasing after Jack.  Oh, and earlier in the story Jack acquired a bonsai tree and named it Hector.

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            Jack and Will walked through the cornfield, more or less aiming for the far end.  Will was in the lead, as that was how they had started and neither had yet taken the trouble to change that.  It was as they walked on that Jack’s hat suddenly fell off.  A small furry body had leapt out of the cornstalks and knocked into his hat.

            Jack’s hands went to his head.  “My hat!”

            Will hadn’t noticed the small furry body, and wasn’t comprehending Jack’s concern.  “So pick it up again.”

            “Oh.  Right.  Hold the tree.”  Jack handed Hector to Will and looked around.  His hat was lying quietly in the middle of the row a few feet away.  He took a step towards it.

            The hat skittered away.  Jack frowned.  He leaned forward.  The hat sidled back a few inches.  He took two quick steps towards it, the hat hastily backing up.

            Jack frowned at the hat.  “Now you stop that,” he said sternly.  The hat snuck back another inch.

            Will, regrettably, had been looking forward along the row of corn and hadn’t seen the great adventure of the moving hat.  He looked back now.  “Jack, what are you doing?” he asked.

            “’aving an argument with my hat.”

            “What?”

            “He’s tryin’ to bugger off.”

            Will was momentarily derailed from the bigger issue.  “He?”

            Jack looked at him as though he’d gone loopy.  “Well ye don’t expect me to have a girl hat, do ye?”

            Will tried to process this.  “Wait a minute…”

            Jack was ignoring him.  He was engaged in launching himself at his hat in something akin to a flying leap.  Jack landed face-first amongst discarded corn leaves, the hat halting mere inches beyond his outstretched hands, taunting him.

            Jack raised his head and eyed his hat balefully.  He scooted forwards a ways on his stomach.  The hat rocketed back several feet.  Obviously this was getting him nowhere.

            Jack tried a new tactic.  He looked at the hat with a benevolent expression.  “Can we talk about this?”

            The hat appeared to consider the possibility.

            Encouraged, Jack rose to his knees.  “Come on now, it’s just you and me, it’s just you an’ ol’ Jack.  I’ve always been good to ye, now.”

            The hat inched a mite closer.

            “Tha’s right,” Jack encouraged.  “Little closer now, little closer.”

            The hat was thinking about it.

            “Come on now,” Jack crooned.  “Come on, you dirty, moth-eaten piece of cow-hide—no, no, no, no, I didn’t mean it!”

            The hat came to a skittering halt several feet away.

            Jack glared at the hat.  “If ye think that I’m gonna dive at ye again, yer wrong.  I ain’t stupid,” he informed it.  Then he turned and began to walk away.  The hat followed him.

            Jack stopped.  The hat stopped.  Jack took another step.  The hat inched forward.  Jack whirled and leaped for the hat.  The hat was caught unawares.  Jack landed with his face on the hat, his arms around the brim, and his body in the dirt. 

            Jack lifted his head.  “Hah.”  He started to pick up his hat.

            A brown furred demon with red eyes, sharp teeth, and a big tail exploded from beneath the hat.  Jack frantically clapped the hat back down, struggling to contain the squirming creature.  After several frenzied moments, all was quiet.

            Jack slowly backed away from the hat, looking faintly shell-shocked.  “We need to talk,” he informed it.

            The brim of the hat lifted, and the demon peered out.  “Chatter chatter,” the squirrel said crossly.

            “Well I didn’t mean to squash ye.  An’ anyway, you started it by stealing me ‘at.”

            “Chatter chatter chatter!”

            “It is so mine!”

            The squirrel looked at him craftily.  “Chatter chatter?”

            Jack frowned.  “Now who carries deeds to hats?”

            The squirrel tilted his head.  “Chatter?”

            “No, I don’t have a receipt either.  But it’s still mine.”

            “Chatter CHATTER chatter!”

            “No, it is NOT yours now!”

            “CHATTER CHATTER!”

            “And I’m not gravy-sucking heathen scum,” Jack snapped.

            “CHATTER!” the squirrel bellowed.

            Jack appeared astounded.  “My mother was not a weasel!”

            The squirrel hopped up and down in agitation, tiny fists flailing.  “Chatter chatter CHATTER!”

            “Yeah?  Well your mother was a hamster,” Jack retorted.

            The squirrel was angry.  “Chatter chatter BANZAI!”  The squirrel leapt for Jack’s throat.

            When the corn dust settled, Jack was flat on his back, one arm by his side and the other stretched straight upward, holding a wildly kicking squirrel off of his neck.

            “And no, you can’t have Hector either,” Jack said calmly.

            “Chatter,” the squirrel snapped.

            “Ye seem to have a lot of rage built up inside,” Jack said conversationally.

            “Chatter chatter,” the squirrel said sourly.

            “Ye wanna talk about it?” Jack asked.

            The squirrel was surprised.  “Chatter?”

            “Well o’ course I’ve got time,” Jack said.

            Will, the forgotten character off on the edge of the scene, coughed.  “Actually, we don’t have a lot of time, Jack…”

            “I always have time to listen to the troubles of my squirrel friends,” Jack said, sitting up and setting the squirrel down in front of him.  “Now, you just pour yer little furry heart out.”

            The squirrel did.  He chattered away for long moments, Jack listening attentively, occasionally nodding.

            When the squirrel finally finished, Jack nodded understandingly.  “Now that could be tough.  Don’t blame ye at all.”

            “Chatter,” the squirrel said.

            “Everybody wants to destroy somethin’ sometimes.  I been there, I know.  And with a dark secret in yer past, well, that just makes things worse.”

            “Chatter,” the squirrel agreed.

            “Y’know, to go through life with that hangin’ over yer head, that would get to anybody.”

            “Chatter chatter,” the squirrel said sorrowfully.

            “Really too bad, mate, I feel for ye.”

            Will couldn’t stand it.  “So…what’s the secret?” he asked finally.

            “Chatter?” the squirrel asked Jack.

            “Yeah, you can tell ‘im, ‘e’s all right.  Bit of a stick really, but alright.”

            “Gee, thanks,” Will muttered.

            The squirrel turned and addressed Will.  “Chatter chatter chatter.  Chatter chatter.”  He paused, then concluded, “Chatter.”

            “Ain’t it a shame?” Jack said sympathetically.

            Will stared at both of them.  “What did he say?”

            “He told you his deep, dark secret.”

            “Which is…?”

            “His name is Rodney.”

            Will continued staring.  “His name…is Rodney?  That’s the deep secret?  His name?”

            “Names can be damaging,” Jack said sagely.

            Rodney agreed.  “Chatter chatter!  Chatter chatter chatter!”  The squirrel was getting himself worked up again.  “Chatter chatter!  Chatter CHATTER CHATTER!”  In his agitation, he began hopping up and down on top of Jack’s hat.  “CHATTER CHATTER chatter!” 

            Jack was nervous, eyes wide, hands clasped near his mouth.  “The hat!  Watch the hat!  Don’t damage the hat!”

            “Chatter chatter,” the squirrel said apologetically.

            “Tha’s all right…” Jack said, discreetly sliding his hat away to a safe distance.  “Say…ye wanna come along with me?” he asked, an idea coming to him.  “You’ll get to destroy someone eventually.”

            “Chatter!” the squirrel said enthusiastically.

             Jack hesitated.  “Listen…I should probably warn ye…ye make friends with us, ye make enemies of others.”

            “Chatter?”

           “It’s a guarantee.”

           “Chatter chatter,” the squirrel said dismissively. 

            “Right then,” Jack concluded.  “In the hat, savvy?”

            “Chatter,” the squirrel agreed.

            Jack used the hat to scoop up Rodney, then settled his hat back on his head.  All problems solved, he stood up and walked over to Will.  “We can go now,” he announced, reclaiming Hector.

            Will stared at him, and pointed at the hat.  “But you…that is…um…”

            Jack put one finger to his lips, and continued jauntily along the row.  Will continued staring at him for a moment, then shrugged, and followed after him.