Discover other titles by Casey A. Criswell at CinemaFromage.com.
The Fat Man Cometh
New sun rose and with it came the new life of spring spreading across the small country village. A father and son toiled upon fresh earth, preparing for the new season. Father paused to stand resting upon his shovel, dragging a worn and battered sleeve across his sweaty brow.
"Aye son, keep at it."
"And you father?"
"Don't be smart son.»
As the two sat and bartered words with each other the country side surrounding them was full of life. Birds fresh from winter nests sang of their glorious return, various rodents sprinted for their short term lives at the hand of hard swung farm implements. Father and son continued to toil upon the field as the murky gray of transition gave way to the first feeble rays of springtime sun.
While once again resting upon his laurels, father took a long pull from the canteen strapped to his belt, the cool water splashing across parched lips. "ahhh..." he sighed contentedly. Son continued, back bent to earth, sweat and aches flowing profusely.
As son began to voice his next insult to hurl at his still lazy father, he paused as he heard the canteen tumble to the hard packed ground behind him. The water jug reported with a thick tink of a sound, letting the son know that father had indeed drained most of the relief granting liquid. It was the surprised gasp that followed from his father that caught his attention.
The boy turned to ask his father what in the seven layers of Heck he was thinking wasting their water and paused himself as his gaze fell upon the elder. Jaw hung ajar, eyes wide and mystified, father gazed intently to the nearby hillside silent in his shock and awe.
"Father, what's become of you?"
Father gazed on in silence.
"Father?" the boy asked again as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder to shake him from his reverie.
As he drew near father shook to a start, life returning to his eyes. A faint whisper escaped from his lips, the boy drew close in order to hear. "Faith and begorah..." father whispered in awe. "Twas but a myth, I thought for certain. Do my old eyes deceive me?"
A look of fear and uncertainty took up residence upon the boys faith, he had never seen his father act as such in his seventeen years. Quickly he spun to gaze out over the nearby hillside that held his father transfixed. Blurred by the mist of distance, the boy could make out two silhouettes marching across the peak of the hill. One stood tall and portly, the other short and still rather portly. What appeared to be the shapes of a man and canine friend had stumped his father into silence.
"Father" the boy asked. "Do we need to alert the village council? Are we under attack once again?"
"Nay son." Father began to regain control of himself once more. "Tis no need."
Father took a deep breath and reached for the canteen upon his belt, just now realizing it rested upon the ground, empty. He shrugged and pressed on. "Nay son. Tis an unexpected sight is all."
"Who is it father?" the boy asked.
"Twas someone I thought but a legend, a myth one might say. When I was of your age, the village fell deep into the throws of such myth. Tales of a large man that stalked from hill to dale with his canine friend. "
"Where they conquerors father?"
"Nay, nay. They were to be quiet friendly if truth be told."
"Then what was their purpose father?"
"To journey you see. Nothing more than common wanderlust and such. Some say there was something deeper to their journeys however. There was a time it was said that the man was rather rotund, urged by friends and loved ones to take to his journeys as a cure for his girth. He grew lonely on his trek however and so his small furry friend took his place at his side. Together they could be seen at any random time, any random place. They spread good cheer and laughter across the land in a time that it was filled with naught but fear and sorrow."
The boy turned and looked at the hillside once again and jumped when he discovered that the pair had drawn near. The man was covered in heavy furs to ward off the early morning chill, full beard and mane matted with sleep and common winter time detritus. He resembled that of a bear rising from his winter hibernation. His belly was portly and approached before him majestic and protruding. His canine companion bore an uncanny resemblance, complete with matted fur and distended stomach.
Father noticed their approach as well. A smile broke across his face briefly tainted with concern. "Aye, tis him, tis him!" His excitement rose unchecked "Granted, he looks like shit. But it's him all the same!"
The boy grew both confused and concerned. However, he felt slightly bolstered by the sound of hope that tinged his fathers voice. "Who are they father? What does this arrival portend?"
"Tis they son. An arrival of hope, good cheer and if my instincts are correct, we'll actually be able to stock the larder this year! You see, while each and all loved the man and his dog dearly, the two could eat." Father became distracted in tales of the companions unassailable appetite as they spread good cheer about.
"Father," the boy prodded. "You're drifting. Stay on task."
"Oh, yes, sorry" father jumped.
"Tis they son. The return of a myth, nay a legend and the good times they promise."
"I still don't know of who you speak father" the boy reminded.
"Oh, sorry again. This is their return son...the return of the Fat man and his Dog."