TALES  OF NEW CANTERBURY

Prologue
When the spring clouds part to show the stars
that sparkle brightly far past Earth and Mars,
sparking the sense of wonder once again
in all who choose to say that they are men,
and when as well the lure of deepest space
pulls on the hearts of all the human race,
and mourning doves proclaim the season right
to venture into that untraveled night,
a few brave souls defy the grinding ages
to go where order's gone and chaos rages,
seeking a different, new, and hopeful spot
where all may have a truly better lot.

So then from Earth's far parts they find their way,
eager to see that bright departure day,
to Starship Base, at ease or in a hurry
to board the Sword and Scabbard for New Canterbury,
a planet said to have the stuff to cure us
of all our ills, and near around Arcturus
I then made haste to get myself aboard,
sure in my mind that I would not be bored.

It came about, as I was in my room
aboard the starship, fighting off the gloom,
a bit unsure that this was wise to do,
thinking the one to go were, Reader, you,
there came aboard for all to hear and see
a rag-tag bunch, a motley company,
of would-be spacers, both the bold and wary,
seeking to colonize New Canterbury.
I heard them talk and joke about the trip
and then complain about the crowded ship,
so I made sure of speaking with them all
as we ate in the *spacious* dining hall;
and then between the salad and the soup
I did become a member of their group,
everyone so eager to cross space
you'd think they were the runners in a race.

   But as it is, I'd better tell you now
the kinds of people that they were, and how
they came to be here, how they did appear,
and why for Earth they rarely shed a tear.
It was a shipless captain at the first
whose seeming strength hid heart near fit to burst.
   He had been brave to navigate the hell
of how it felt -- the first to FTL.
He did not fail to heed the Spacers' Code
and guarded it as it were mother lode.
In fact, it's true he really was the very
first to stand upon New Canterbury.
Nor did he know, and would be loath to tell
how very swiftly things did not go well.
No one had thought it would become quite salient
the target planet would be wholly alien.
No sooner had the colonists done landing
than there began the first misunderstanding.
The first indeed of many to come later
of which he tried to be a mediator .
All things, he said, should well be done in season,
but disappointed men were deaf to reason.

In brief it seemed the colonists lacked heart,
so that the venture foundered from the start.
So dire became the people's situation
that he of force decreed evacuation.
Returned to Earth, he faced the firm demand
that he resign, and not again command.
If truth be said, the man was fair, not phony.
He was the butt of lying testimony.
So he engaged to dare the long space flight
to try his utmost now to make things right.
  Since these are words but in a written book,
I think it fair to say how he did look.
His uniform was threadbare at the best --
festooned with tarnished cord and braid the rest.
Dark was his hair, and pointed was his nose;
it gave a feel of purpose, I suppose.

 There with him too, and near  his frail right hand,
stood straight and tall his second in command.
A youngish lad, if one saw just his face,
Though he had marked a hundred trips in space.
So dedicated he, that anyone
Could hardly see he was the Captain's son.
It took great work to coax from him a smile
Since he went with his sire in this exile.
For spacing was a passion of his life
Greater than any heat for love or wife.
Yet still if chance should send such love his way
He would pursue through night and artificial day.
He yearned to have a ship with secret cargo
To take to far off stars for Space Wells Fargo.
There really was no duty  he'd prefer
Except be here to love and serve his father.

 A loyal guard made full his entourage,
Uniform blue with golden equipage.
Well-pressed it was, both truly  clean and neat;
He had well-shined black shoes upon his feet.
His pistol holster showed to all who saw
That he'd had many a need for rapid draw.
The gun itself he kept so burnished bright
It could outshine the darkest deep space night.
A special watch he had upon his wrist
With hidden gas to make a foe desist.
It was especially clear to all that he
Came from a widely honored family.

 Then next among us came a prim head nurse
Who said of Earth "N.C. could not be worse."
For any ill who came to her she took,
Yet she cared always only by the book.
To be her patient was no pleasant fate:
Her treatment books were always out of date.
She had no money now to buy the new;
So she was forced to say, "I shall make do."
She had lost none, no patient anywhere,
Yet she had given many a one a scare.
Her uniform was sparse, and bare of trim,
And yet her cap was always starched and prim.
Her aides described her as a very tease,
And she was always saying, "By Hippocrates
To healing arts I ever will be true."
She told herself that surely no alarm
Could fright her patients: "First, you do no harm."
Of aides she now had with her only two.

At table next to her a Mountain Man,
A hermit he, who from the time his beard began
Its wiry growth, lived by himself.
So he was oft mistaken for an elf.
Had he but known, he would have thought it droll,
Since he conceived himself  "a grumpy troll."
A hunter he, whose shot did never fail;
His poaching could have sent him straight to jail.
"I have no time for children or for spouse."
His temper was as ruffed as is the Grouse.
And all unlike in every whim and feature
Sat next to him a fervent circuit preacher,
In truth more like an eagle than a dove;
He tightly gripped the texts that speak of love.
Instead of speaking only to one nation,
He yearned to make all worlds his congregation.

In room with him a thoroughgoing bore,
The Scrooge-like owner of a discount store.
To dress elite was his consuming passion,
Yet he was always wearing last year's fashion.
At his right arm an eager young intern
Whose academic zeal still seemed to burn,
To learn what's new and certainly to cherish
That he would surely publish, never perish.
And seated next to him, I glanced and saw
A famous, smug practitioner of Law
Whose celebrated trials would not begin
Unless that he were certain he would win.
And so with this most prominent attorney
It was no accident his name was Chase D. Gurney.
He had no fear of any adverse fate;
His cry was always, "Let us litigate!"
He would not cast his lot with any faction.
His specialty, in fine, was large class action.
As for his needy clients' recompense,
His share was many millions; they got cents.
Indeed he was not harried by the cost;
He charged his clients even when he lost.
For his credentials had no true design;
He got his only law degree online.
This filigreed and gilded-edge diploma
Was from the well-known School of La Paloma.
It said he was a mover and a shaper.
It was a most impressive piece of paper.
And he admired John, and Yoko Ono
But wasn't sure if he should work pro bono.

A small-hold rancher looked at him with pain.
He thought a lawyer wanted just to gain
Wealth for himself and did not care a span
For any troubles of a little man.
This rancher merely wanted to be heard
About the uncaught rustlers of his herd,
But since the Law to him had not been kind,
He had no further care, was of a mind
To seek a place where he'd not need to worry,
And so was off to ranch New Canterbury.
So were a clothier, and a textile maker,
A builder, flooring salesman, and a baker.
With them also a stout short-order cook;
Whose recipes could surely fill a book.
His shining pate was all bereft of hair;
He was at home in kitchens anywhere.
His given name was Jeffrey but called Jeff,
And most of all he longed to be a chef.

The next in chair seemed like a nervous juggler,
But he turned out to be a crafty smuggler
Who spoke in tones of bitter vitriol
About his loss to "that damned Space Patrol."
While frowning near him sat a med school proctor
In later times become a wealthy doctor.
Celebrities were all his clientele,
For he would sooner burn in deepest hell
Than lose their fees, to him an ugly fate.
Wherefore he saw that they died always late
And though in public he appeared a snob,
Few knew he'd treated Capos of the mob..
.A seamy one who many times had "had 'em,"
Across from him there sat a married Madame.
Who held if women truly wed, of course,
Then none in honesty may call them whores.
She kept a slim shape full of sex and urgery,
But at the bottom only plastic surgery.
 A "love all" cleric said God would forgive her,
But she replied, "You're crawling on my liver."
He took it as a high and holy challenge
To melt a heart as hard as is Stone Henge.
For him there's none can listen and can sit
Unmoved by force of all the Holy Writ.
She said, "Before you go about and teach
To others, practice what you preach."
But sure as comes fine calcium from coral
He held  that every tale should have a moral.
Hearing all, and making not a sound,
There sat a small-crop tiller of the ground,
Whose mini-world encompassed nothing worse
Than damaged crops, to him the bleakest curse.
He toiled from break of dawn to bleakest dust
For tasty corn but often got just husk.
Yet he would plant again each coming year.
Starvation was indeed his greatest fear.
"You should take better care of what you have,"
The steward sat near him, though himself a knave.
 He gave the farmer stares and dirty looks,
Though he could slyly twist and cook the books.
And so to tell it now instead of later,
A burly owner of an elevator
For storing grain, said, "That makes perfect sense,
Since what you give decides your recompense.
You could indeed be soon reduced to barter
If you are not a diligent self-starter."

Yet one was present who indeed was nervier.
He was a pressure-motivated process server.
"Give 'em a 'Hi" and slap it in their hand."
He deemed himself the slickest in the land.
I was myself the last of our small group.
We made, I thought, an interesting troop.
At that point I heard, "As you were, sir.
I am your servant here, this good ship's Purser.
It is my charge to see that you're all well,
And after that, well, anyone can tell.
Since no it's clear that you enjoyed your dinner,
I pitch to you a thought I'm sure's a winner.
To stay your being bored enough to weep,
Before the time to go to deepest sleep,
You each may have a story, I suppose,
To entertain us.  Yes, it's one of those.
Before your curiosity will burst,
We must decide, and fairly, who is first."

 At that the space ship Captain gave a "Huff.
No flip and flopping here.  I say,  Enough!
Is there a soul among you then who durst
Deny me? I have the rank, and so I shall go first."
The murmurs soon did die, as you will see,
For curiosity made all of us agree.
The edges of his being, though so rough,
Concealed a heart much tenderer than tough.
He was in fine an honorable man,
And with another "Huff" his tale began.

(The end of the Prologue to Tales of New Canterbury)


Tales of New Canterbury – The Captain's Tale

"A long time since, when I was full of dreams
of space and glory, distant now it seems,
for I experienced no greater strife
in battle, than or man and wife.
When first I signed to ship unto the stars,
To take the first flight ever passing Mars,
My Jean said, 'I will wait, as you will see.
Those women who will not – they are not me.'
She let me go, despite her many fears.
We neither knew that I'd be gone for years.
When I returned she thought it just a crock
That I said I did battle with the Grokh,
A randy people, cause of many wrecks,
Whose secret weapon was promiscuous sex.
I said that she was always in my heart,
But she demanded, 'Did you, too, take part?'
I said not so, but still that very doubt
Remained within her when I next shipped out.
On coming back, I found we had a son.
'You were not here to see his life begun,'
She blurted haltingly through many tears.
'You missed his very special first five years.
I came to think that you did not like kids.
And I alone had rescued him from S.I.D.S.
While I had all the care and all the bother,
He had a fading picture, not a father'
'Then come along. There's nothing now to fear,
and bring him too.'  'No. We will both stay here.
Earth is his home, not far-off starry bends.
Do not then ask that he give up his friends.'
She'd not relent, and I did not then know
How far indeed that I would have to go.
This time when I was back he was a teen,
And I had lost the precious years between.
Yet he had tracked me through the video.
So now he said, 'Oh Dad, I want to go.
I'll only be a cabin boy as yet,
But soon I'll qualify for Space Cadet.'
'I've lost you twice,' his mother said, 'and you
have harmed me much, and I must lose him, too?'
The pull of space is like a strong addiction.
Its force is truly stronger than in fiction.
'So go,' she said, 'upon your lonely track,
but I will not be here when you come back.'
The Victor lifted off that very day.
I did not take him. He just stowed away.
I knew him to be strong and also able,
And so he now sits here with me at table.
So then, my friends, be careful what you try,
Or you may see your dreams take wing and fly."

(The end of the Captain's Tale)


Tales of New Canterbury – Words between the Grain Elevator Owner and the Purser

"I'm widowed, but I was a family man,"
The plump Grain Owner pompously began.
I understand full well your awkward plight, Sir,
But I cannot believe that you were right, Sir.
A father sure must be there for his son,
Especially when that life is first begun.
You were not there to teach him right from wrong.
Among true fathers' ranks you don't belong."
"What qualifies you now to be so frank?'
The Purser said, "By God, have you the rank?
And by our Good Ship's hottest rocket burn,
I must declare you've spoken out of turn.
The Captain's been in space a bit before you.
If you won't make amends, I'll do it for you.
Good Captain, he just spoke from his conviction
And not at all from honor's dereliction.
So Owner, now most surely without fail,
Make good in truth by telling us your tale."
"Enough! Sir Purser, I am not a prude,
nor am I always blind and bluntly rude.
I ask that you would surely be so kind
As not to then suppose what's in my mind.
I buy and sell, but I cannot be bought.
I try to choose my words as well I ought.
Though I have not at all the Purser's trust,
Hear then this tale of loving and of lust.

(The Grain Elevator Owner's Tale follows)


The New Canterbury Tales – The Grain Elevator Owner's Tale

There was a spacer bold, a ladies' man,
Who lay with women once and then who ran,
Who judged his conquests by their ample bust
And cared no microns whether it was lust,
Who one day tired of the endless chase
And longed to wake to just one pretty face.
He found his dream, an engineer named Jane,
Who I must tell was anything but plain.
She could have been Miss Omniverse with ease
But was extremely difficult to please,
For she had what he thought the strangest notion
That she should be rewarded with devotion
For loving him, and hoped he'd understand
Since she could have her pick of all the Land.
To seal it she said, "Please, we should not tarry
But find the Mayor so we may quickly marry."
At this his body wholly shook with fright,
Which she took as the height of his delight.
Oh, yes she knew of his extensive cast,
And he assured her all of that was past.
What neither knew, the women he had known
Considered him conceited, overblown,
And met one midnight at the great Stonehenge
To vent their rage and then to plot revenge.
The thought came to them like a thunderclap.
They knew exactly how to set the trap.
One of their own would say, "We call a truce,"
While all of them conspired to seduce
Him by turns, in full view of his bride,
Repeatedly till they were satisfied.
They'd tie her to a single massive stone
Until they finished, then leave her alone
To ponder all the lust that she had seen
Until her jealous anger turned bright green.
She would not know that they had got him drunk
But let her think him lower than a skunk.
All went as planned. No tittle went amiss.
There was no single part they did not kiss.
When he awoke, his muscles throbbed and pained.
His head now seemed as if it were de-brained.
His first sight was the horror of his life:
His loved one stood above him with a knife
That they had left her so to cut her free.
"You lied," she said. "You wholly lied to me.
For that I ought to take your very head.
That way or else you should indeed be dead."
Instead she carved a mark upon him where
It sterilized him, cut his pubic hair,
So anyone who saw it then would flee
And say in parting, "You are not for me."
I hear he wandered all his later life


The Tales of New Canterbury – The Grain Elevator Owner's Tale

And found no one would say she'd be his wife.
He bought a small ship, sailed into the void,
And died on some uncharted asteroid.
From this you see if you mock love that's true,
You can be sure that Love will then mock you."

(The end of the Grain Elevator Owner's Tale)


The Steward's Prologue

The Captain nodded.  Cybereye then twitched.
He looked almost as if he were bewitched.
Or had he done what no one else had known
And like the spacer, nearly died alone.
"A spaceship's crew," he said, "respects no borders.
They'd follow me to hell if I gave orders."

The Steward piped up, "We need some lighter fare.
I have a tale I think will clear the air."

At this the Purser said, "By all means do
Regale us with a smile, a laugh or two."

The Steward replied, "I'm sure this will be fun."
With no delay then was his tale begun.

(The end of the Steward's Prologue)


The Steward's Tale

My tale's of one who loved to win at poker
And thought himself the greatest, wildest joker.
He loved a straight but straight he never played.
Instead his tricks were lavishly arrayed,
With cards created solely to deceive
And lead his victims helplessly to grieve.
That's not to say he was above suspicion,
And all went well until a great magician
Sat in the game and did not mind the cost
Until he found exactly how he'd lost.
This magi was a truly fine mechanic,
So much so he could make a player frantic.
The name he used on stage was Even Steven,
And he decided just how to get even.
To name the game is always Dealer's trip,
So he combined a Five Card Wild with Strip.
He slyly dealt the joking one a flush,
And to himself a Royal one.  That much
Is clear. He then said, "We
Must now continue, Sir, I'll see
Your cards. The ante's doubled."
The joking one for once looked pale and troubled
He was so used to saying call and see,
He thought, "This can't be happening to me."
The cards, shown plain, left joking one inert.
The magi said, "Good Sir, remove your shirt."
It then was done. He fairly had been bested.
All saw that he was hardly hairy--chested.
He told the magi, "You had best beware.
You will regret it if you don't play fair."
The magi smiled; the joking one did smirk.
His stare was like a newly-whetted Dirk.
He dealt and got an aces-kings Full House.
"I'd like to see you beat * that* now, you louse."
The magi anted and then just hung tough.
He caught the joking one with solid bluff.
The latter fumed. He then removed his pants,
Showing his boxer shorts with red-print ants.
The magi's turn at deal came once again.
He looked around at all the other men
And smiled. It now was time
To pay the perpetrator for his crime
Of shamming what instead should be a sport.
He seemed a lawyer with a winning tort.
This hand the joking one received four Kings
And thought, "This sure will settle things."
The magi, though, was not just simply slicker;
His hands moved smoothly and indeed much quicker.
The joker called, to tense surrounding faces.
The magi smilingly turned up four Aces.
"No!" the joker roared. "The shorts?  Not off.
The rest of you can just sit there and scoff."
His lady, arm on his now sinking shoulder,
Said, "He in past time always was the bolder,
But now it seems he merely shrinks and shrinks.
He's not indeed as big as yet he thinks."
She turned and then began to walk away.
"My thanks sirs, you have surely made my day."
The joking one right then and all time after
Became the butt of roaring, raucous laughter.
Remember in the living game of poker,
It's best to hold and not to be the joker.

(The end of the Steward's Tale)


Tales of New Canterbury – words between the Steward and the Short Order Cook

"My tale is best."  So said the Steward  "In main
It is so good I'd tell it all again."

At this the fat and bald Short Order Cook
Said,  "That may be, but with a closer look,
It follows story rules to the letter.
You all will see that I can do much better."

"Not so, for taste is transient and fleeting.
Your pudding best is proved upon the eating.
Say on, Sir Cook, and spare no turgid word.
Your claim, in fact, is patently absurd."

His face shown red, the Cook began to fluster
And said, with all the grit that he could muster,
"I shall indeed, as you, false Steward, shall see.
There's none upon this ship can out-tell me."
The Cook, intent to show himself a man,
Growled hungrily, and with these words began:

The Short Order Cook's Prologue

 For those of  you, though persons of great parts,
Yet not conversant with culinary arts,
My tale concerns a feud between two chefs,
As much opposed as Bass and Treble clefs.
One specialized in pastry, sweet and pure,
The other with fine entrees was secure.
At many a competition they had fought
With splendid dishes, curiously wrought,
And one would win, and next time did the other,
So neither then could call the other brother.
At one last show, each plied his greatest bent,
But met disaster.  This is how it went:

(The Short Order Cook's Tale follows)


Tales of New Canterbury – The Short Order Cook's Tale

 To settle all with sureness and dispatch,
The two chefs met up then in juried match.
The one excelled in pastry, one in pork.
Their competition took place in New York.
So all the judging could be sure and fair,
And there would be a basis to compare,
Instead of blintzes against fish,
Each would prepare the other's favorite dish.
Thus whether sweet sorbet or sharp fromage,
There was no room this way for sabotage.
The first, Reynard, liked spongy wine-laced cake.
His foe, named Hugh, loved fruity tuna bake.
No freezer-tasting foods from icy shelves,
These were the entrees they made for themselves.
Reynard and Hugh both thought they were so good
They could prepare most any kind of food.
Reynard got tuna fresh from Fulton Mart,
To fetch Dom Perignon  Hugh did his part.
Pineapple from Oahu came by air,
And flour from German rye was also there.
Each added then his special spicy blend
To lend a special flavor in the end.
All went quite well until the time for shovin'
The two entrees into the heated oven.
The minutes passed but there rang forth no chimer.
It seems the oven had a broken timer.
That was, however, not the only cause.
Someone did not provide the things for sauce.
They seasoned what they made as best they could.
The Judges said, "These entrees taste like wood.
We here declare you both forfeit your rank
As Master Chefs.  We cannot really thank
You for your bungled food or for your pride.
We leave, our palates still unsatisfied."
The two, perplexed, now said, "What shall we do?
Our reputation's ruined – through and through."
Their only hope, they saw, was make amends,
And erstwhile foes became the fastest friends.
They pooled their knowledge, joined their special bent,
And built the World's most loved establishment.
Their Masters' ranks they finally regained,
And many Masters now by them are trained.
If we can work in sync and maybe faster,
We can work best, and so avoid disaster.
Of this advice I urge you all take heed:
High quality comes not from just high speed.

(The end of the Short Order Cook's Tale)


Tales of  New Canterbury – The Young Intern's  Prologue

And now, the Captain said, "I think it prudent
That we should  hear a word from our young student,
Whose eagerness to learn is warm and fresh,
And not yet caught within the world's raw mesh."

"I'm not so naοve as you may suppose
as to mistake Skunk Cabbage for a rose.
My knowledge is not just from dusty books,
So as to merit condescending looks.
It goes beyond a packed and crowded shelf
And stems from all I've checked out for myself.
My tale is 'He said – She said,' with a twist
I'm sure you'll be unable to resist.
It deals with two who tripped and roughly fell,
And with much striving harrowed their own hell."
"If this is so, young man, why then say on,"
The Captain offered.  "Please, or then be gone."
The Intern looked intently at the man,
Drew in a breath, and with these words began:

(The end of the Young Intern's Prologue)


Tales of New Canterbury – The Young Intern's Tale

"He said, she said tales are at the best
told by the persons – we fill in the rest.
So lest their words lie dusty on the shelves,
We shall hear all, and straightly from themselves.
John was a CEO of high repute –
Marsha a femme who preyed on being cute"
.
"No one can match me in the trading game.
My customers are one and all the same,"
John said. "To beat me is a dream
Of everyone who has a 'better' scheme.
To them I simply say, 'Come off it.'
You know I'll always turn the better profit."

Marsha said, "It is clear beyond dispute
I have learned all there is to know of cute.
I met John at a corporation party
Where I was paid to say he was a smarty.
As with those other suited miscreants,
His greatest smarts resided in his pants.
Still, there was something clearly drew me to him
And made me be accepting once I knew him.
We went straight to it, sure, and never tarried,
And six days later we were truly married."

"Oh, we were married, that indeed is true.
But happy?  Not exactly, I tell you.
 If I said yes, I knew that she'd say no.
What I learned she had found out long ago.
She sang a single never-changing song –
Whatever I thought right was surely wrong.
We were a pair of clearly mismatched wrecks
Who made a mess of all, especially sex."

"Sex?  When I desired it, I had to ask.
He treated it like some unpleasant task.
No tender foreplay, no romantic schemes.
He didn't do that even in my dreams."

"I dared not treat it as a thing of course.
Such action now leads straightway to divorce.
Instead of tantrums or a silent pout,
It seemed much easier to do without.
There seemed no hope or prospect of recovery
Until we made a startling discovery."

"From which we then devised a whole new plan,
for he was once a woman, I, a man.
We saw each other in a different light."
"We even learned to love both love and fight.
We now know what the whole of gender covers."
"And so we also know what makes true lovers."

"So thus," the Intern said, "we learn apace
The best thing sometimes is a change of place.
I've said their words to you as best I know,
That all of us from them may learn and grow."

(The end of the Young Intern's Tale)


Tales of New Canterbury --  Words following the Young Intern's Tale

"You think yourself in truth to be all-knowing,
but you don't know the way the wind is blowing.
So said the crafty Smuggler right away.
"I wonder how you saw the light of day.
Your  youth betrays your lofty, vague pretense
To thoughts profound that really don't make sense..
Do not allege your thinking now is sound.
It might be, once you've been around.
The world's a wider place than you have known.
Your air of learning, Sir, is overblown."

"You say, it seems, I cannot take the heat.
Your knowledge seeps up acrid from the street.
It has the smell of say and then presume.
For logic and for proof there is no room.
You have no hoard of learning to protect.
What you do have is pseudo-intellect.
What could you say that we would want to hear?"

"Now stop right there," the Purser said, "It's clear
that each of us can tell some kind of tale,
whether a little minnow or a whale.
Sir Juggler, if that you really be,
Say on, that we ourselves may see
Whatever worth and truth that you may tell,
Or what indeed with us will ring a bell."

"That I shall do.  My tale comes from the heart.
It is of one who thought him greatly smart,
A rogue and king of clever trade and barter,
Who found in time he needed to be smarter."

Seeing that nothing else was now amiss,
He heaved a sigh, and then began, like this:

(end of the words after the Young Intern's Tale)


Tales of New Canterbury – The Smuggler's Tale

"There was a Juggler who devised a scam,
saying, 'You want the very best?  I am.
I am a Master Juggler from birth.
I can make move the planets and the Earth.
It's simile, but still a massive feat.
I shift the ringed faux Saturn with my feet.
Working smoothly, once I have begun,
Their orbits are around a bright faux Sun.'
It was his claim that with a magic Seal,
His faux star system influenced the real.
'My system works.  Indeed you can be sure,'
he'd say to any new entrepreneur.
'I can make planets yield their vein-bound gold.'
And hearing that, his willing dupes were sold.
When nothing worked, and angrily they missed him,
He was conveniently far out of System.
That is until one day which was quite scary,
He tried to scam the Chief of System Military.
He promised altered paths made planets proof
Against ill-doers.  They would just go poof.
He was indeed a most conceited prig
To think he'd spend at most a time in Brig.
Instead of Credits numerous and rife,
He found that he was fleeing for his life
From asteroid to comet and to moon.
There was no sign his running would stop soon.
For all I know now, he is running still.
Will he stop ever?  I don't think he will..
My tale is short, but I have made my point,
As seen yon Intern's nose is out of joint.
His harsh demeanor, scowls, and hostile looks
Show that all knowledge does not come from books.
We learn through what we live through every day.
There may be other, but no better way."

(the end of the Smuggler's Tale)


Tales of New Canterbury – Words between the Purser, Smuggler, and Head Nurse

The Purser said, "Sir Smuggler, was that real?"

"Yes.  It is no accident your name is Steele.
Do not reproach me with a lofty moral.
Your heart, it seems, is made of darkest coral."

"I'm here to serve and not to pick a fight.
It does not help a smidgeon who is right,
Or which tale's better or which one is worse.
Such wrangling is more loathsome than a curse.
I think the Head Nurse now is next.
That's as I see it, not on some pretext.
Let her inspire with what we've not yet heard.
 Come now, Nurse Anna, let us hear your word."

"That I will do, and gladly, you will see.
I shall recount what once occurred to me.
It was an operation gone amiss.
I made things right. It came about like this:"

(the end of these words among the three)


Tales of New Canterbury – The Head Nurse's Tale

"I newly had received my Nurse's Cap.
A brash young intern (really quite a sap)
Whose new-in-healing pride began to burgeon
Believed he was more apt than the Head Surgeon
 And could indeed produce a full prognosis
Without the need to have a diagnosis.
His voice was gruff, his movements slick and brisk.
He seemed oblivious to the patient's risk.
I had to put him in his proper place
But did not think he needed to save face.
I did it for the better, not the worse,
But what I did instead became a curse.
Instead of giving him a little shove,
I pushed too hard, and also fell in love.
Off-duty we went everywhere we could.
I didn't even think to knock on wood.
Our joy was lost to slowly growing pain.
Our days engulfed by clouds, by mist and rain.
The time occurred when I became too wild
With care about the breech birth of a child.
I said there was no choice but the election
Of promptly moving to a sure C-section.
And I was right; the child was safely born.
His bawl seemed louder than a diesel horn.
I think I gave an even louder sigh,
And this is where my planning went awry.
So though my love stood steadily beside,
I'd left no suture for his wounded pride.
Though he'd been wrong, I'd wanted to protect.
He deemed I thought he had no intellect,
Or else he saw I held my own much higher.
We had no love, he said.  I was a liar.
 I've said that what I did became a curse.
He threw me over for a student nurse.
He had no need to court or to imbue her.
Her love proclaimed he really mattered to her.
In trying to maintain my stance above him
I lost the chance to show that I could love him.
If women make a man do what they wish,
They'll find it stinks like thirty-day-old fish.
So let him do the things he really wants,
And he won't chafe if you then wear the pants.
That's how it is, as I most surely think.
The rest is just a blotch of blood-red ink.
My tale is done.  So I this trip began
To ply my trade – and find another man."

(the end of the Head Nurse's Tale)

Tales of New Canterbury – Words between the Purser and the Head Nurse and between the Purser and the Author

"Good Madam, that is fine, but I do fear
you've told us merely what we want to hear.
I think your husband had take greater care
Than any other husband anywhere."

"Sir Purser, Edmond, you're too smooth a man
to throw a load of offal in the fan.
I do indeed hold stronger private views,
And what they are should prove no special news.
That women rule is really no surprise.
If you recall, it's Eve who first was wise.
A man of mine would have no need to fear
If he'd relent, and meekly say, 'Yes, Dear.'
So understand the source of every fight
Is men won't do what women know is right.
A savvy nurse needs no constraint or proctor.
She knows, in truth, far more than any doctor."

"I see," the Purser said, "your colors now
are mottled more than is a brinded cow.
But hold your peace. It is our writer's turn
To spin a tale, while you do sit and burn.
So come, Sir Writer, spin for us a yarn,
Or is there now no horse within your barn?"


The Writer's Prologue

"I am not used to writing on command,
nor do I wish to tell a tale that's bland.
Such work is like a monk without a cloister,
Or more exact, a shell without an oyster.
But you should know, I was among the very
First to set down on New Canterbury,
Or should I say I was the first to fall.
Sir Purser, rest assured I shall tell all.

The Writer's Tale follows


Tales of New Canterbury – The Writer's Tale 1

"It was the darkest land I'd ever seen
that first sight. Not a single spot of green
appeared through breaks in inky thunderclouds.
I wondered – should a landing be allowed?
Should colonists be freely loose and swarming
Across a land so hostile and alarming?
I thought it risky of the starship line;
A risk I'd not take were the business mine."

"Hold on." The Purser, like a traffic cop,
commanded, "here this tale must stop.
I tell you none but blithering blind fools
Would go against the Star Line's safety rules.
Such thoughts as these could easy start a fight.
I tell you, Sir, that is not really right.
Please choose another course that you know well,
A course that won't move hearers to rebel
Against the order we all need to live
Aboard this ship, and we will gladly give
Our full attention to your new discourse.
I'm sorry, but that is our last resource."

The Writer smiled to hear that verbal slip,
But yet a tremor moved his lower lip.
And certainly he could not be much tenser
At this most gross attempt to squelch and censor
What should be free, and freely heard as well.
It was within his mind a warning bell.
So then he sighed, and said, "Then I shall try
No more offense to either earth or sky.
I still do have reserved a rousing tale
Of what it takes to win and not to fail."
With this he paused to know that he'd be heard
And almost grudgingly gave forth his word.

The Writer's Second Tale

We'd scanned most carefully the early 64 bit
Transmissions from the robot probes in orbit.
It seemed within each terminator border
That all was fine and decently in order.
They showed us naught unduly strange or stranger;
So we had not a hint of any danger.
The Captain, too, when he'd had time to sort it,
Declared he saw no reason to abort it.
Then we went down with just one orbit pass
And settled onto purple pin-stripe grass.
The atmosphere made no one sneeze or seethe.
It seemed an easy mixture we could breathe.
No animals or people barred our way.
It seemed an ordinary, simple day.
That is until the onset of hysteria
Which stemmed from our first sample of bacteria.
It was enough indeed to scare and fire us;
The whole durn planet was a retrovirus.
Our Captain's haste to land then made us seethe;
That all was well he'd hasted to believe.
It seemed a futile end to our long trip.
We voted then to go back to the ship.
"Hold on," the Captain said. "It is most certain
If we do that 'twill be the final curtain
For everyone on board, and not just us."
That was enough to make a preacher cuss.
And so we stayed, and one by one they died.
We wondered, was the Captain satisfied
That he was right. In no way was it fair
We'd come so far to make our ending there.
I was the last of that sad landing party
And buried the Captain, that conceited smarty.

"Sir writer, stop!" the Purser said, "Your're here.
I ask now that you make it very clear
Just how you faced that threat with such impunity."

"I had, Sir Purse, a natural immunity.
Nor am I since a deadly virus carrier.
No woman need beware if I should marry her.
There is no reason I should be retested
The records show my system had it bested.
Our landing craft had full AI control,
And though I was the only living soul
Aboard, brought me then safe to dock
With the main ship, where I was then arrested.
Of hatred those remaining had no dearth.
The First Mate brought us safely back to Earth,
Where I was tried, acquitted, and set free.
The judge decreed no one should bother me.
A swamp I'll find to live alone like Kermit,
Or better still, to be like yonder Hermit."

"I hope indeed that is but halfway true,"
the Hermit said. "I'll never be like you."

"Why not ," the Purser urgently demanded.
"Are you content to live life second-handed?"
Are you the better any way than he?
Tell us a tale, that we may surely see."

"That I will do," the Hermit's smile was sly.
My tale will show I'm better, and tell why."

"I think it should." The Purser's look was stern.
"This is, you see, your one and only turn."

His smile receded from the Hermit's face,
He plunged into his tale as t'were a race.


Tales of New Canterbury – The Hermit's Tale

You've thrown me, as it were, a dog a bone.
You don't know what it's like to live alone.
No one to talk to but a lazy hound,
Not even hints of other human sound.
Oh, I kept, too, a slightly injured dove
But had no comfort of a lady love.
So let me say before we all are frost
How in the forest I became so lost.
I once lived in a city bright with lights,
Replete with culture and with bitter fights.
Still yet, before I tell you any more,
I was a handsome, sought-for bachelor.
Women would proposition me. I did not ask.
I found to say, "I love," an easy task.
Then I met one who turned my heart about
And made of me a hero, not a lout..
Gentle she was, and kinder than an angel,
Yet if you riled her, she would let you dangle
With feet in hell and face besmirched with egg
If you said not she had a lovely leg.
Her blue eyes sparkled brighter than a gem.
Yet she wore none. She had no need of them.
Her hair was redder than a forest fire
And flamed with shining highlights of desire.
Upon my shoulder she would lay her head
And press herself upon me when in bed,
So when she peaked, she made the flaccid whole
Of my poor manhood stiffer than a pole.
Of these occasions sadly there were few
Before she said, "I now want something new.
You simply do not have it, 'little' Jamie,
"for I desire something hot and gamy.
Good bye, and luck, I'm really glad I met you,
But know I soon will easily forget you.
I must move on to visit new horzizons.
With us it then must be our byes be bygones."
With that she strode barefoot the hardwood floor,
Blew me a kiss, stepped out, and slammed thedoor.
Since that sad slam my days have all been nights.
I doubt I ever shall put things to rights.
So then good folk I say, "Remember, all,
A cliff edge is an easy place to fall."
So ends my tale. Sir Purser, does it suit you?
If not, I think I'm strong enough to mute you.


Tales of New Canterbury – Words from various persons

"Enough?" the Captain said. "You kid yourself.
I flick my finger. You are on the shelf."

"Hold, now," the Purser said. "This will not do.
Be still, or I shall shortly call the crew"

In this the other two saw common cause:
"We'll take you easy on, laws or no laws."

"No way," the Purser said. "I've help aplenty.
The two of you cannot withstand my twenty.
If in the brig you are in separate jails,
You will not get to hear the others' tales.
Besides, when we are done, if you are able,
We all shall dine at out ship's Captain's table."

At this they underwent a change of mood.
If something they both liked, it was good food.
With grunts and nudges then the two agreed
Impatiently to wait till time to feed.

"Let's then move on," the Purser said. "Our time will fade.
I think the next should be the Nurse's Aide.
Unless you think that you are just too frail
To give us all a robust, hearty tale."

"On that thought, Sir, I beg you not to linger,
or I will break you with my little finger."

"Oho, a feisty one. Were you a fellow,
I'd quickly see in real if you were yellow."

"And surely if you think that you could best me,
I would advise you not to try to test me,
For I know self defense in many parts.
I am a black belt in most martial arts.
A woman needs to know how to protect her
Or find, too late, some sneaky schmuck has wrecked her.
But 'nuff of this. I do not wish to bore 'e,
And so I will get going with my story."
She shifted her fat self upon her seat
And said, "You'll surely like it. It is neat."


Tales of New Canterbury – Nurse's Aide's Tale

"There was a young physician, Harry Proctor,
Who thought himself a truly perfect doctor.
. He never flubbed procedure or prognosis,
but overlooked his faulty diagnosis.
 One time a patient said, 'I am in pain,"
And Harry then did surgery on the brain.
That was, he said, the cure for such a headache.
Though all it really was was just a bed ache.
Where this is going you will shortly see.
He thought himself in deepest love with me.
To me his actions were a very curse.
I'd no respect as woman or as nurse.
So you may wonder then why I would date him
If he gave perfect reasons I should hate him.
A nurse's pay is often very small,
And thus I had to augment it in all
The clever ways that I could think of
And drink of all his wine that I could drink of.
 I let him see that I was now well fed
But took care not to wind up in his bed.
One day he came to me to sweetly say,
'Let's go off for a week-end holiday.
I have reserved a suite at El Cantero,
Where we can stay and dance a hot Bolero.'
It was enticing, I must now admit,
Though at the time I didn't care a bit.
So I relented, even called him 'Honey.'
But what I had in mind was, 'Get the money.'
The hostelry was shabby, gray – a has been,
No place to gladly party or to jazz in.
Still on the face it did seem rather neat
He had reserved the Royal Bridal Suite.
Yet it was neither Bridal, Sweet, nor Royal;
I had no qualms in being quite disloyal.
No sooner we arrived than he undressed.
He only thought to bed me, he confessed.
Drooling, he neared, and then began to hover.
'I am,' he said, 'the all-times greatest lover.
You will have many reasons soon to thank me.
If not, I then will gladly let you spank me.'
I had no burning wish to then be kissed
By such a feckless sado-masochist.
I slapped him hard both sides of his thin head
And ran. He chased me 'round the bed.

He was indeed a most persistent fellow..
I hit him often with his bed side pillow.
Nothing then stopped him but his flabby shape;
He was not even fit enough to rape.
His lust was real, but all the rest was fake,
And thus he blithely made his great mistake.
Flailing, he struck a switch as he did fall,
And he and Murphy Bed were in the wall.
I hoped he landed bruisingly and hard.
I charged a cash draft on his credit card.
Smiling, I left and let him loudly yell.
'You may," I said, 'go straight to deepest hell.'
'If he needs help in his pernicious strife,'
I told the desk clerk, 'Let him call his wife.'
I was not stopped – went straight unto the plane.
I never saw that Creeping Crud again.
So if you must engage in an affair,
It may not end as you suppose. Beware.

The End of the Nurse's Aide's Tale


Tales of New Canterbury – Words among the Purser, The Nurse's Aide, and the Celebrity Doctor

The Purser looked at her and bit his lip.
"That was the best one yet upon this ship.
Your tale kept moving, and it did not pall;
It seems you turned out feisty after all."

"Feisty I am, as you can plainly see;
it's your own risk if you should mess with me.
Better to keep your mouthings to yourself.
What I may want I can achieve myself."

"That may well be. We have a ticking clock
until cold sleep. It now is time the Doc
told us whatever he would have us know.
Do not delay now, Doctor. I say, go!"

"Sir Purser, I'm not used to taking orders.
In doing so you boldly cross my borders.
My practice is with all the rich and famous.
I have no dealings with the poor and squamous.
Still, once it happened that to save my face
I helped a fallen runner in a race.
It was not simple, you will hear me tell.
We both came to the precipice of hell."
With that his visage glowered with such fury
He seemed almost unable to begin his story.

The end of the interchange among these people.


Tales of New Canterbury – The Celebrity Physician's Tale

It was a sunny day in Old New York,
And I decided I should take off work.
No famous persons' names were on my chart.
My office was above the very start
Of that great race which has both come and gone,
The great lamented Brooklyn Marathon.
I went and took a place beside the curb,
Now spacious as a newly-built suburb.
Most people were on picnics or were fishin',
Or else they watched the race on Life-o-vision.
 It was the start, and I must now tell you
It also served to be the finish, too.
The often champ stood near the bold black line.
To anyone observing he seemed fine.
Except his arms and legs began to tremble
When all behind him started to assemble.
Then they were off. He led the surging pack.
I'd see no more until he came on back.
So I put on my special 3D headset.
To know what would go down I was quite deadset.
To everyone's surprise except my own
He turned, halfway, from hero into clown.
The tremors of his limbs became severe,
And even I indeed began to fear
He might not make it to the race's end.
He staggered past each heart-exhausting bend.
The others passed him slowly and then fast
Until from first he had become the last.
I turned to leave but heard an angry voice:
"You have to stay. You really have no choice."
It was a Lifey cameraman who said it.
"Don't talk that way," I said. "You will regret it."
"Oh, no," the man replied. "It won't be me.
You are the one who will regret. You'll see."
"No way," I said. "You can't coerce me now.
And even if you wished, you don't know how."
"Ah, but I do. Your pride is your career.
To lose it all must be your greatest fear.
I need but point the camera your way,
And all your stature's quickly blown away,
For everyone will see you as you are:
No hero but as sticky as fresh tar.
You'll help the champ. He needs but run the course.
If you do not, it surely will be worse

For you than if you'd not been born.
You'll be reduced to treating stars of Porn."
I laughed at him. "This surely is a bluff.
You are a Nothing. You have not enough
Of power or of pull to bring it off."
At this I suddenly began to cough.
"I have TK, the cameraman then said.
"I can control the bio of your head.
You will now gasp for air, as would a fish.
To be let live will be your only wish.
So help him or be put upon the shelf,
Unless you don't care even for yourself.
Look. Here he is. The champ is now in view.
My camera's on.  The world awaits what you
 Decide. Please do not take too long,
Or else the race will end in funeral song."
I gave a nod, and then he did relent.
I turned, and kneeling, slowly bent
Over the prostrate runners inert form.
To give him CPR. "There'll be a storm
Of protest over this," I gasped, I hope
You know you're at the end of your short rope."
"Ah, no,  You see I have not done a crime.
My camera was running all the time
From when you first refused. You now are done.
If you have any sense, then you will run
As far from Earth as spaceships now can take you.
I need not try. The viewers now will make you."
 And that is why I had to make great hurry
To board the Scabard for New Canterbury.
Do not be quick to say what you will do,
Or you will surely come to rue it, too.

The end of the Celebrity Doctor's Tale


Tales of New Canterbury – Words among the Purser,   The Celebrity Doctor, and the "Pay on Win" Lawyer

The Purser's eyes seemed like twin thunderclouds.
"It is no wonder there are not huge crowds
coming to take advantage of your work.
In plain, you're an egregious jerk.
And were it ever my good chance  to tell,
I'd send you to the deepest pit of hell."

At this, in turn the Doctor's eyes were wild.
He seemed as wrathful as a petulant child.
Whereon the Purser's watchful then glance fell
Upon the Doctor's hand, which held a scalpel,
With sure intent to carve a deadly groove.
The Purser flattened him with one quick move.

"You hypocritic, faux self-righteous prig.
You'll spend remaining wake time in the brig.
You, Sir Lawyer, can you then do better?
Obey our Ship's Rules now unto the letter.
Have you for us a more engaging tale
With which you can this company regale?
Should you now flout them, I must say, beware.
Be bold to meet this challenge, if you dare."

"Your order, Purser, makes it very clear it
is mine to follow both in truth and spirit.
I tell of one whose careful plan fell flat
Precisely since he did not see to that.
And all of you will surely come to see
How it did happen, but t'was not to me."

The End of the Words Among These Parties.


Tales of New Canterbury – The "Pay on Win" Lawyer's Tale

In saying, "No pay now," I was a grafter,
For if we lost, they then did pay me after,
But this sad soul made even me quite wroth,
Since he insisted he be paid for both.
How did he do it? How did he so rate?
His clients simply were that desperate.
There are two segments of the Law, you see,
The Rules of cases and of equity,
And those of cases are the place to start,
For Equity means ethics and the heart.
So Equity for him was really fun,
Since as for heart, you'll see that he had none.
A crying woman came. He did entreat her
To tell him what was wrong. Her husband beat her,
And what was worse he even tried to force her,
But of the base details I can't say more, Sir.
      A veil of secrecy enfolds domestic strife
Unless you go to court. She was his wife,
Who came to tell him, "Now's my turn to force you.
I'm here to tell you that I shall divorce you.
The scandal this will make's no little toy
And hurts both you and our sweet little boy.
You'll surely have no clients after this,
When people know how much you've been remiss.
Now should you think you'll win, you'd best be wary.
My counsel is your hated adversary.
He'll pin your pin-stripes hard against the wall.
He'll play with you the hardest of hardball."
At this he knew he really had to get her,
So that with this all done he could forget her.
He placed a leak – as he had done before
With local tabloids – that she was a whore.
It did not work at all as he intended.
Instead he found his fences broke, not mended.
The public sided with his wife and son.
Still, he had no regrets at what he'd done.
She'd caused his ruin. He had no regard
For what might then ensue. He was disbarred.
He got a gun, and then with wife and child
As hostage shields, he went completely wild.
The SWAT team shot him cleanly in the head,
But yet a stray shot left his son quite dead.
His wife then thought this all too much to rue.
She took his gun and with it shot him too.


Tales of New Canterbury --  The "Pay on Win" Lawyer's Tale

He then who'd called all others stupid fools
Who chose to play exactly by the Rules,
Himself had played, it seemed, to lose not win.
I don't know if there is a greater sin,
But if there is, I really hope, in fine,
It turns out that it isn't ever mine.
No matter whether you are Saint or Lout,
You can be sure your deeds will find you out.
That's all I have to say of this sad story.
The rest, you see, is plainly just too gory.


The End of the "Pay on Win" Lawyer's Tale


Tales of New Canterbury – Words Among Various Persons

On hearing this, the Clothier was quite wroth:
"Your tale is made of naught but threadbare cloth."
"I must agree," the Textile Maker added.
"It should be short, but is severely padded."
"It is," the Builder said, "not good at all,
since from the first line it begins to pall."
"It has no base," the Flooring Salesman noted.
"Were it for sale, it should not be promoted."
"I cannot say for sure that it is faked,"
the Baker roared, "but it is quite half-baked."

The Purser said, "Enough. Give in and bend.
This paltry quibbling surely should best end.
So I declare that to be wholly fair,
To make amends and clear the smoky air,
That each of you endeavor to regale
Us with some merriment – a really rousing tale."

"I am no bard with tales," the Clothier said.
"Nor has the Textile Maker in his balding head."
"I form with steel," the Builder boldly sneered.
The Flooring Salesman: "So it has appeared,
Sir Purser, this will be but loss."
The Baker: "You must make me come across."

"I shall. Now, Samuel, in your mental barn
there surely must exist a clever yarn."

"I am Sam," the Clothier said. "It's fact.
 The Baker's, though, I sadly long have lacked.
Still, I'll visit your unwelcome port,
But you must know my tale will sure be short."

With that he gave a nod, almost a balk,
And with great reticence began to talk.


The end of Words Among Various Persons


Tales of New Canterbury – Short Tales by Various Persons

"One day," the Clothier said, "I was quite wroth.
A customer sneered boldly at my cloth.
'It is,' he said, 'quite barren and bereft
of any spark and color in the weft.
What's more, it's clearly thin and sparse of warp.
It makes me look ridiculous, not sharp.'
I dared not tell him what I really thought.
I let him find out after he had bought.
 You're all aware that any special cloths
Need good protection against devouring moths.
In boxing it I gave my hand a spin
And threw some extra-smelly mothballs in.
It surely was a while ere he would dare
To think his purchase might be fit to wear.
He also surely then did fret and fume
But said to others it was new perfume.
They certainly enjoyed his foolish gaffe,
But he did not enjoy their taunting laugh.
Take care, good people, what you quickly say,
Or you may even sooner rue the day."

"I can top that," the Textile Maker said.
"I once made cloth expressly for the dead.
An undertaker was so very proud
Of what he gave his corpses for a shroud.
No simple garment for a final shrive.
He'd have them look as they were still alive,
Ready to answer good Saint Gabriel's bell
And follow then to heaven or to hell.
I wove for him some cloth so spanking new
That all of them did seem quite ready to
Leap from their coffins, hop around and prance,
And ask the mourners present for a dance.
One time a poor abused one's ugly spouse
Arrived to enjoy her ending now -- the louse.
She really was so ravishingly dressed
He lost his false composure and confessed.
The day he wished was certainly not his'n.
He after spent his latter days in prison.
So if sometime you bite of more than you can chew,
Beware, it really may upchuck on you."


Tales of New Canterbury – Short Tales by Various Persons

"Your stories are not worth an ancient guilder."
This from the short and swarthy Builder.
"Now I can tell a brief and rousing tale
will surely please and has no chance to fail.
You never know who's sure to be a Louse.
He came to me and asked I build a house
Fit for a King – an Emperor – of trade.
Be sure his heart was blacker than a spade.
He did not care who knew he was a cheater.
He simply let them know he 'packed a heater.'
That old phrase now is simply used in fun;
It merely means he chose to tote a gun.
At any rate, his house should be deluxe.
He didn't care if it cost lots of bucks.
So I made sure that I would cheat the cheater;
I had a plan that couldn't have been neater.
I used the cheapest stuff that I could buy,
But then a "bummer" blew my plan sky high.
My secretary made a stupid choice –
In place of bills he got my own invoice.
I did not want his "heater" near my head;
I wanted to be living, and not dead.
Just say I managed to give him the slip
And book my passage on this cursed ship,
Headed for where I'll have a brand-new start,
And where I'll play a meaningful new part.
 Beat that, you bumbling, inept storytellers.
You wouldn't last a 'sec among Goodfellas."

The Flooring Salesman gave a hefty snort
And boldly said,  "I'll bring you all up short.
I tell you now of vile and heinous lechery
So base to rival politicians' treachery.
I knew a man who had a lusty wife
Who always argued, and then took his life,
But not before she'd cozened  him so much
He never even knew he was "in Dutch."
For her to kill him was a summer breeze –
She laced his breakfast buns with antifreeze,
One of the ancient ways that women kill –
For all I know, a way they do it still.
She 'walled it out' with blank and stony face,
Sure that the poison left no tiny trace.
 And then with sly and savvy skill
She even made to forge the poor man's will
To keep herself in diamonds and fur,
And also leaving all the rest to her.
How was she 'fingered' by the curious State?
She had forgot to send it for probate.
How I knew all you'll presently discover
As I reveal I was her final lover.
That I was next was sure my greatest fear,
And that is why 'dear friends,' that I am here.
If you don't know the point of this by now,
You've no more smarts than does a poor old cow."

"I don't believe it," snarled the chubby baker.
"Unlike yourself, I surely am no faker.
 I tell of someone who indeed could care less
And came to grief because he then was careless.
He was a well-known baker like myself
Whose hot, sweet buns came flying off the shelf.
He had no surly, snide, and scheming wife.
In fact, he had a very ordinary life.
One day, distracted by a dream, he didn't see
The right thing needed by his recipe.
He took a jar of starch then by mistake
Instead of sugar – for a wedding cake!
The bride and groom were nauseous and ill.
His business dealings reached a quick standstill.
The legal fees solidified his ruin.
His slipshod ways alone caused his undoin'.
I was that baker. To now avoid my slaughter
I'm on this ship. It was a Capo's daughter
Who was the bride. If this my simple plan
For freedom fails, I am a true 'dead man.'
In what you do, know what you're about,
Or you may find your life abrupt snuffed out."


Tales of New Canterbury – Words Among the Purser and Tradesmen

"I think indeed you really are a faker,"
the Clothier said, "and even a bad baker."

"You're one to talk," the Baker loudly snorted.
"Your suits are cheap, as it has been reported."

"Cheap?" the Textile Maker said. "It cannot be."
"You see, he bought his bolts of cloth from  me."

"Such gratitude," the Builder said. "You louse.
I gave you discount when I built your house."

The Flooring Salesman: "Its interior was fine, all.
I saw to it the floors were high grade vinyl."

"Enough!" The Purser raised his sturdy hand.
"The Tales should now proceed. I do command
you all to cease and civilly respect
the teller who will entertain us next,
whose trade indeed is traced back to Adam.
We have among us now a married Madam..
She knows of many subterfuges, slicks,
Of  how her women turned their 'magic' tricks.

"That will I gladly," quick the Madam said,
of what it took to get the Johns to bed."
With that her pudgy face, her eyes, were brightened.
"From what I say, you'll surely be enlightened."

The End of the Words among these persons.


Tales of New Canterbury – The Married Madam's Tale

"I am not rich," the Married Madam said.
I always had to scramble for my bread.
My mother always mouthed, 'Dear Eglantina,
Be always sure your children have Farina.
Sell yourself well so you need never starve;
It will not do to have no meat to carve.
Instead, I wed a man who was just poor,
Along with being nothing but a boor.
The children came so painfully and fast,
I wondered if there'd ever be a last.
So many times I had been morningsick,
I vowed revenge, and turned my first good trick.
He threw me out, but I had not a care,
For there are Johns to cozen everywhere.
That being so, I thumbed one at the Louse,
And so began my famous Bawdy House.
I framed a plan that really was quite neat-o;
I got the children money incognito.
A lawyer 'client' set it up for me;
I served him well, and so he did it free.
Without my former hubby's will or knowledge,
I even made sure of their funds for college.
They did not have to worry 'bout the cost;
The money came from 'relatives long lost,'
But it in time would surely come about
That when I died, they'd find the whole thing out.
So that is why I'm here upon this ship.
If any man finds this a boring trip,
He'll find me fully ready, hot, and quick
To offer him a most engaging trick.
He only needs to use his plain good sense
And offer me a proper recompense.
You can indulge your driving urge for sex,
Or end as nothing but pathetic wrecks.
To everyone I say – to one and all –
Beware if you don't follow Nature's call.
I'll say no more, and I would really rather
End it right here. The rest is only blather.

The end of the Married Madam's Tale


Tales of New Canterbury – More Words Among Various Persons

"Madam, you're vile," the Process Server said.
His few remaining head hairs looked like lead.
His small lips twisted in a snaky grin.
"I really don't quite know where to begin
to chronicle your wholly vicious work."
The grin transformed itself into a knowing smirk.

"You offspring of a jackass and a shark,'
she said. "You really miss the mark.
You've no idea what I really did.
Your thinking is the level of a kid
Starting first grade, if even that advanced.
You do not know, and yet you boldly chanced
To judge me worthy six feet under sod,
As if I were a devil, you were God."

"You call on God, you smug, immoral whore?
I'd be the first to shove you out the door
Of the aft airlock, were I now in charge,"
The Circuit Preacher's form loomed high and large.
He was a big man only in his size,
And but a midge in other people's eyes.

"And you, you speak, and so are wrong,"
she said.  "I'd loudly bang the gong,
 and swiftly, surely twist and wring your neck
for thinking I am truly bound to – heck,
I'll find myself in Heaven 'fore you do.
You rant and rave of nothing right or new."

"Sir Process Server,  you are not much better,"
the Preacher wheezed. "You hold just to the letter
of every law, and then ignore the spirit.
Your double-dealing now is very clear.  It
Will be your swift undoing Judgment day,
When you will see you went the Devil's way.
Sir Purser, please, I ask you, give me leave
To show these clods I really don't deceive
My charges, and I will not you.
My Tale will show you this is really true."

"Say on." The Purser crafted a thin smile.
"We'll see if you stretch truth a country mile."


Tales of New Canterbury – More Words and the Preacher's Tale

At that the Preacher shook and turned quite pale,
Glared at the others, and began his tale.

The Circuit Preacher's Tale

"I'm not the whining hypocrite that you suppose.
Though I may not deserve the reddest rose.
Still.there are times the Tempter may well irk us
To break the line 'twixt circuit and mere circus.
 My parish called for me to travel far,
It took too long to reach the nearest star.
It soon developed that there grew a rift
So wide the people sadly felt bereft
Of daily spiritual help, and easy strayed,
No matter that they true and daily prayed.
"I'd set things right, but they would stray again,
till they became, both women and the men,
not those I knew, but persons wholly changed,
and for the worse – they really seemed deranged.
One congregation said they now knew evil
Incarnate -- I was sure the Devil
For preaching just false hope and bitter lies.
I guess that really was no great surprise.
Another said I simply took too long,
And my return meant only funeral song.
I tried to say that good and hope are real.
To most of them it was a dead appeal.
Their life upon new planets was so hard
That joy and hope seemed permanently barred.
So now I plan to make a lasting stay
In order to be there to show the Way
To those I know and do not merely pass;
So I may love them all, both lad and lass,
That in the course of time we'll plainly see
Them love God, self, and others – even me.
I do not like to wrangle or to fight;
I merely hope this time we'll get it right.
No world in which we all have secret grudges,
But one instead that's filled with loving nudges.
I am not perfect. Neither then are you.
I do defy you -- show this is untrue.
If we desire calm and  peaceful living,
We really must be loving and forgiving.
Now this I offer as not just my creed,


Tales of New Canterbury – The Circuit Preacher's Tale (& more)

But rather now as something we all need.
If not, our world will not be one that thrives,
But one where we're in peril of our lives.
We all do know from such a world we came.
Which one of you will want the new the same?

The End of the Circuit Preacher's TALE


The Process Server's Prologue

"You preachers always think that you know best,"
the Process Server said, "but vile incest
can rear its snaky head at any time
and bury unsuspecting souls in slime.
I say that incest, once it is suspected,
Will be because someone has been neglected.
There is no other marriage sin, I guess,
That may be counted worse than is incest."

"You should not talk of what you do not know,"
the Preacher blurted out, "unless you show
you have some really personal, straight knowledge,
since you had never studied this in college."

"Ah, yes. I know it better than you think.
It is so rotten few can stand the stink."

"You'd better put this story on the shelf.
I think you're guilty of this sin yourself."

"I might have been, and my beloved whorey,
but what you need right now is the whole story.
It does concern myself and two twin sisters
And was enough to give me mental blisters.
So now I give a cautionary nudge.
Be sure you have the facts before you judge.
I bid you listen well to all of this,
And as it happened, it fell out like this."

The End of the Process Server's Prologue


Tales of New Canterbury – The Process Server's Tale

"My dearest wife and I were really happy.
It was the truest love and nothing sappy.
We quarreled yes, as married couples do,
But always managed to retain what's true.
That is, we had permitted no mean bother
To stop us from our valuing each other.
One day her mean, conniving, jealous sister
Conceived the notion I could not resist her.
To mitigate her own detested hell
She said, 'I have a secret now to tell:
It is my due to show you clearly why
You two have lived a mean, immoral lie.
You think she is your true, untainted wife,
But she's your sister, on my very life.
Your father didn't tell you he remarried.,
In secrecy,  but sadly then he tarried
A bit too long.. We both were at his side
The night he coughed his last and quickly died.'"

"This is too much." The crimson-faced Head Nurse
responded. " It is really morally quite worse
than what I've heard from others who are here.
How dared you call that wicked woman 'Dear'?"

"Since thoughts of my dear wife are still quite tender
I think I now must rally to defend her.
She'd kept her silence during that tirade,
And that same silence cruelly made
Me doubt her proffered love was good and true
Until she boldly thusly stood her ground:
'I peeked into your diary and found
my Sister, you're the one who's really lied.
 I'd always thought that you were on my side.'
'I was until the day I came to see
the one who should have wed him then was me.
Why not? Your head is densest wood.
You never could discern the great and good
In such a man, but I – I could and did.
I tell you now, your daughter is my kid!'
'That is not true. I tell you now – no way.
I had a check run on her DNA,
And she's the honest child of him and me!
Besides, we're his step-sisters, you and I.
So go back to your little room and cry.


Tales of New Canterbury – The Process Server's Tale (ending)

His father sired neither you nor me.
That DNA is different too, you see.
Our daughter too is on this very ship.
She is the waitress you refused to tip.'
'Argh! For I would kill you if I could.
I still maintain your head is made of wood.'"

"Take her away," the Purser said. "The prig.
Your head's not wood, and hers is just too big."

"That's how it was," the Process Server ended.
"I think, Sir Preacher, I have well defended
my slandered wife, the brightness of my life
who's lasted through that sore domestic strife.
If you have listened well to all of this
You'll not let lack of knowledge spoil your bliss.
And as for you, you Meddling Madam Nurse,
If I held grudges, I'd throw you a curse."

With that, the Process Server gave a sigh.
The Purser said, "We need let this go by."


Tales of New Canterbury – The Graduate Intern's Prologue

The Graduate Intern made himself heard quickly:
"We'd best proceed, or this whole project's sickly.
It was intended to bring fun and joy
And not to be some person's private toy.
I shall go on, if none of you do mind
To tell of what's required to be kind.
An injured worker, being poor and old,
Heard that his house was going to be sold.
He had no way to pay the monies due
And sadly fretted daily –wouldn't you?
The buyer really was a lowly stooge
Who saw himself as kin to Eben Scrooge.
To please his boss he came down really hard;
Give him an inch, and he would take a yard.
He said his boss owned all inside the house
As well as land and building. Oh, the Louse!
If he espied the chance, why then he would
Evict the man stark naked, if he could.
So much more money for his boss's coffer.
He made the poor man then a no-win offer.
"Leave now, or then be thrown out in the street
without a stitch of clothing, head to feet."
The poor man thus was left without a voice.
In fine, it was he simply had no choice
And would have been completely broken, bested,
Had not the Owner's Lawyer then protested
That if his client truly could well find
A big tax break if he would just be kind
And be a giver too, not just a faker,
And let the poor man live-in as caretaker.
The house could be a showplace of antiques,
Which were the Owner's point of interest peak.
"But if," the Lawyer said, "you do not feel it,
one of your business foes could later steal it."
That person then could really show you how
To make more money than you're making now."
The owner thought it all was really funny,
But why not, if it brought in tons of money.
Kindness and profit, going both together,
Can bring in funds in any fiscal weather.
So now you see, or else you really should:
It really pays if you are kind and good.
The truth of that I really can attest.
So try it. You'll find out that way is best.


Tales of New Canterbury – End of the Graduate Intern's Tale Plus Various Comments

 I have just this  to say about it all:
Be circumspect, or you may take a fall."

Then I, the writer, said, "All well and good
To think things really can be as they should.
You are naοve, young sir, and right now can
Not picture man's vile ruthlessness to man.
Yours is an outcome not refined by fire,
But merely outcome of your own desire.
So then I hope you truly will not grieve
If what you say I really can't believe."

"Aha," he said. "You are no learned sage.
You only say what comes from your own age.
Someone like you is really just a bore –
A stumbling, tripping, dying dinosaur!"

"All right," the Purser growled,  "this has to end,
or no one here will be another's friend.
Another Tale now needs to be begun.
This exercise's end is just plain fun.
My list decrees the time is ready for
Our thrifty owner of a discount store
To have his say. I'm sure it will be short.
Coin Pincher, let's have your report."

"Pincher indeed. I really have to tell you
I always give the customers good value.
No person ever left in a blue funk
Because the goods he purchased were pure junk.
I do not try to cheat them, you will see.
I merely try to practice good economy.
But my competitor, one 'Sleazy Sam,'
Was far more underhanded than I am.
He sought to cheat his way to retail glory.
What happened then is quite a different story."

"Then tell it now," the Purser roared. "Don't wait,
we all are tired. It is getting late.
Get on with it. Do not betray our trust,
And should you keep it short? Indeed you must."


Tales of New Canterbury – The Discount Store Owner's Tale

"As I was saying, Sam was not at all as just
as I was. That's why he went bust.
It seems he advertised a Super Sale
And promised thrifty bargains by the bale.
The bale, it turned out was just mini-size
And held a batch of skimpy, sleazy buys.
Yet that was not what caused his great collapse;
It was one of his mean, colossal traps.
Not just a buy it now, pay later.
It was a bargain-priced refrigerator
With special features everyone would covet.
Indeed, to see it was, no doubt, to love it.
The ones who took it home could hardly wait
To get it out of its closed packing crate,
But when they did, they all let out a roar:
'This freaking thing . It doesn't have a door!'
The fine print folks did not take time to see
Said that the door cost them an extra fee.
Sam thought his Sale would be a total buyout.
Instead he only brought about a riot.
The smoke was thick and billowed up so far
It seemed it went on to the nearest star.
He tried to dodge the blame, you surely see,
By saying all was traceable to me.
He even had some papers slickly forged
That claimed in chaos I had then disgorged
A flame jet. Set it all on fire.
I was arrested. Damn that filthy liar!
The judge said people shouldn't have to worry
About me. Sent me to New Canterbury.
Be careful who you make decide to hate,
Or trouble just like mine may be your fate."


Tales of New Canterbury – Words Among Various People

"Well! That was surely short enough, Sir.
You may think you are really tough, Sir.
You may think I am nothing but a shrew,"
The Head Nurse snapped, "but I can sure tame you."

"So go ahead, just push hard as you can,
but what you need is just a real good man."
Coin Pincher's look was smug as he was hard.
You could not best me by a tailor's yard!"

"It doesn't really matter now who fails."
The Purser's glance was harder than steel nails.
"For still another Tale must be begun,"
and looking 'round, he tapped the Captain's Son.
"What can you tell to do your father proud?
Just speak it out, and belt it good and loud.

"I am the real thing, Sir, and not a fake.
"I earned my way here. I'm Lieutenant Blake.
My father is the finest man I know,
And surely he will give my Tale a go.
The Tale is of young love as you would know it,
But with a twist, as I shall surely show it.'

"Then hurry up, and do not make us wait.
We soon shall have to pass the first stargate.
That's not a time for hunting fame or glory.
It isn't even time to tell a story."
The Purser's patience sure had grown quite thin.
"C'mon, son. Time's here to begin."

The Young Man gave a deep, regretful sigh.
"My Tale," he said, "is set in days gone by."


Tales of New Canterbury – The Captain's Son's Tale

"A long time past, when people chose their own
persons to love, or else to live alone,
a young man thought he'd run out of all hope.
And even friends said he must be a dope,
He wished his birthplace were another nation,
Until one time he went upon vacation.
The hostelry he stayed he thought was just
Another place to be another bust.
Nothing had happened there for seven years.
He wished it weren't unmanly to shed tears.
Nothing would happen now, he was quite sure.
It was a brutal trial to endure.
Unknown to him, the hotel's Maitre D
Decided, "It is clearly up to me
To bring an end to this boy's inner strife.
It's obvious he needs a caring wife.
I shall arrange, and soon, for him to meet
A lonely girl, both innocent and sweet,
One who will show him who he needs to be,
And from that inner turmoil set him free."
He had them meet "by chance* as in a flick,
Both unaware it was his little trick.
Yes, they did click, and almost right away
Began to yearn to set a wedding day.
Did all go smooth? No, sadly it did not.
It seems the folks who lived at her home spot
Thought all was wrong and not to be allowed.
The two of them, in love, could not be cowed
Into a break. The wedding did take place
In front of some whose stern, resentful face
Covered the thought, "It surely will not last.
We'll see to that, and it will soon be past."
Soon became years, and years to decades ran.
There were two children, each a little man.
Sometimes their parents nearly broke apart
And would have left those youth with broken heart.
But as it was, disease took her away
Ere she could see the great and happy day
Of children from a coming generation.
She had no chance for joyful celebration.
Yet their true love survived until the end,
When there were no more rips for them to mend.
Such love is stronger than most people think
And can survive the fabled "kitchen sink."


Tales of New Canterbury – End of Captain's Son's Tale  & Words of Various Persons

So do not scoff, and then perhaps you may
Be one of those who see that long love's day."

THE END OF THE CAPTAIN'S SON'S TALE

Words of Various persons

The Small-hold Rancher bristled at such word.
"You know nothing. Try to nudge a herd
of stubborn, peevish cattle toward their graze,
hoping they'll not be victims of the maze
of troubles they'll find on their weary way
to better pasture. Wives can be that way,
asking for that which they've no hope to have,
and you in turn do not have means to give.
Do you imagine you're some know-all sage
To spell out all the needed rules of marriage
And of sex?  To specify how to avoid the wrecks
Of all the hopes and dreams your mind detects?
You?  Far too young to know of it yourself.
Far better – keep your scrolls upon their shelf."

"It was not I who knew of what I've told.
It was my Space School roommate, brave and bold,
who told those things that near destroyed his life.
Still he felt blessed to have so fine a wife.
Had I the chance, I now would do the same.
To anyone who knows me: I am game."

"Now it's my turn to have a word or two.
I (the writer) say this now to you:
Regarding women, better stick to cow.
The care of cattle is what you know how.
Besides, if my poor memory doesn't choose to fail,
The time has come for you to tell your Tale.
Give us a good one, not a bit of prattle.
Show us you know of something else than cattle."

"All right. I have a really good, thick hide.
I'll tell of justice stalled, and so denied.
Justice denied is same as none at all,
Like calves who fail to heed their mother's call.
This Tale of mine will make it clear and plain:
Justice denied may never come again."

The End of Words Among Several Persons

The Rancher's Tale

"I am a man who always tried to hustle
to get his work done – never cheat or rustle.
I paid my taxes all, and fair and square.
When I said I'd deliver, it was there.
On time and in a good and healthy number.
No doubts of that did ever spoil my slumber.
My business grew; my herd began to swell.
I prospered then, as anyone could tell.
I had no glimpse of any foul wrongdoing
Until one day a buyer came a-suing.
He said our latest deal indeed was short
A dozen cows. So he took me to court.
Myself, I said, I had no cause to rob.
My lawyer said, "It was an inside job.
The books were altered so that it would seem
Naught was amiss, and all was just serene."
My hands of course got all their proper wages.
The altered stuff appeared on other pages.
The Prosecutor said the fault was mine.
I would be subject to a massive fine
And prison too, if he could have his way,
And not in life to see the light of day.
My steward as hostile witness did give prime
Report against me, so that I did time.
My sentence was commuted so I'd hurry
To board this vessel for New Canterbury.
I did deny it, but that didn't count;
There seemed no way to turn the case about.
The man I trusted, him I should have feared –
You! It's you there – without the beard!
So you it was who made his bed with crooks
And slyly forged and twisted 'round the books!
I'd kill you now, if any way I could,
And sear you with my brand, I surely would!"

"There's nothing you can do about it now,"
the Steward sneered. "You're as helpless as a cow."

"Don't be too sure," the Purser then put in.
Your own incarceration will begin
After a shipboard trial, your final test –
One you will fail since you have now confessed."

"That Lawyer here, he'll surely take my side
and prove to everyone the Rancher lied."

"Not so," the Lawyer said. "I'll take no part
of anyone who has so black a heart."

With that, the Purser gestured to a guard
Who slapped the Plasteel shackles on him – hard.
Screaming vile curses, he was dragged away
To face his victim on another day.

The End of the Rancher's Tale.


Tales of New Canterbury – Process Server's Daughter's Prologue

The Purser raised a cautionary hand.
"Before you take a bold, contrary stand
to what the Rancher said, you'd best be wise.
Right now we have a very real surprise.
Young Alya here, the Process Server's daughter,
Will regale us with a special Tale. You oughta
Give her a warm reception, if you please,
So she can now present her Tale with ease."

"He's right," the Process Server said, "you see,
if you do else, you'll have to deal with me.
And then you'll have a  world of things to fear,
None of them good. So please say on, my dear."

Then Alya shook her "black hole" tresses once
And said, "If you are not a perfect dunce,
You'll heed my father's words – his firm command.
I hope that's plain for you to understand.
I'm here because I love a certain man,
To let you know how our true love began
And show you why you should not quickly judge
Or foist on us some old, outstanding grudge.
Then with your leave, and fairness in your heart,
I'll give my Tale a really rousing start."

The End of the Process Server's Daughter's Prologue


Tales of New Canterbury – the Process Server's Daughter's Tale

"We met aboard the very rescue ship
to save survivors from that luckless trip
which found our goal. Indeed the whole
debriefing of those poor folks was our role.
 The man I speak of's  Dad was in the crew
And hopefully one of the very few
Were still alive when our ship would arrive.
All that gave us a reason then to strive
To see him safe. Until we could vouchsafe
His safety, doubt would make us chafe.
We both at first had signed up on a dare.
It was a while before we were a pair.
He'd seemed to me a charming, feckless dolt
Who didn't know a hammer from a bolt.
Just teasing him was all was in my mind,
Yet he was nothing else to me but kind,
And only after our first glorious kiss
Did I find out that something was amiss,
For he drew back and had no words to say.
It went that way for day on standard day.
What had I said or done that was so wrong?
Had I been dumped, as often heard in song?
At last I simply had to ask him straight,
'What obstacle won't let us share our fate?'
'We're from two different classes,' then he said.
'We won't receive approval from my Dad.
You'd lose your job and never would find more,
Then wind up as some sex-sick low-life's whore.
I love you. So I cannot let that be.
I see no way that you can be with me
Or any path that lets me be with you,
No matter that our love is really true'
That's why I now will take the chance
To carve in stone the worth of our romance.
Good Captain Starr, I think it's time you knew
The man I love's a dearest Son to you,
As he is dearest in all worlds to me.
I ask you, if you love him, set him free"

The Captain stood up. "No! It cannot be.
Or if it is, then he's no son to me!
I'll have him stripped of rank and his Insig,
And you I'll have hauled promptly to the brig!"


Tales of New Canterbury – Words Among Various Persons

"No way!" Young Starrett took her hand.
A valid Shipboard marriage can't be banned
Except for cause, not some unreasoned whim!"
He looked at her with life-love, she at him.
"The Circuit Preacher married us, you see.
You lost my Mother. Would you now lose me?
I love you, Dad, please use your vaunted sense.
Do not erect a wholly useless fence."

The Purser broke in, "Sir, you'd best be wise,
Or you'll do harm more than you now realize.
These young folks have what sadly you have lost.
Are you prepared to pay so great a cost?"

The Captain's shoulders slumped. "It is too much
To ask a man to pay, yet I know this is such
As I'd have never cruelly done to me,
And so you have my blessing. You are free.
Go, live your lives, but ever think of this:
I'll have your hides if this should go amiss."

The two of them, still tightly holding hands,
Embraced the Captain, who could hardly stand.
Tears streaked his beard, both plentiful and fast,
For he now knew this hope to be his last.

"I think," the Purser said, "we'll pause a while
till we can then resume this with a smile.
At that good time, and without fear or fail,
The Captain's guard may tell us all his Tale."


Tales of New Canterbury – the Captain's Guard's Prologue

"Now that I am most surely glad to do,
For decades I've been more than faithful to
The Captain's House, where honor still resides,
And will not pledge my faith to other sides.
Few know that in his many years of strife
There have been bold tries at the Captain's life
By steel and gun – and even at his wife!
I've foiled them all. Some were mere amateurs.
And some were Pros. I killed them without  tears.
But when it came to outing young Miss Alya,
My swift response I cannot here detailya.
Should someone here now raise his hand agin' 'em,
They'd find while still alive that I would skin 'em.
For such good folks who've been so badly wronged
I've put their vile foes right where they belonged.
For such do not ring any funeral bell.
I've sent their souls Express Mail straight to hell.
That someone past who tried to do 'em in
Is on this Ship, I'm sure. If they begin
To try again, their heads will surely roll.
I will not flinch to add them to my toll.
And now it seems another charge is mine.
It is to keep the safety of  as fine
And good a couple as you'll ever see
On any world. Let no one mess with me.
I know more dirty tricks than foes may think.
Then let them try. I'll make their bodies stink.
I do already know who to suspect,
So I am ready for who may try next.
If they think what I say is idle boast,
Then let them try. Their lives will be the cost."
With that he whipped his pulse gun from its case
And stuck it in the sneering Doctor's face.
"If that be you, you are as good as dead.
I tell you now, you'd best protect your head.
That is my piece. You all have now been warned.
I'll do what it may take so no one's harmed."
He sat back down, so fast re-sheathed his gun,
He after that looked just like anyone.

I found I wondered just how much he knew,
And knowing all that, wondered what he'd do.
To argue now would be of no avail.
The Small-hold Farmer moved to tell his Tale.


Tales of New Canterbury – The Small-hold Farmer's Prologue

The Farmer said, "My business may be small,
But be assured my tale can be quite tall."

The murmurs from before had yet to cease.
The Purser put in, "Now let him speak his piece.
He is an honest man, I'm sure, and true.
Let him begin, and see what he can do."

"I do not wish to do the slightest harm,
or have my Tale raise anyone's alarm.
I'm just a Farmer, you will surely see,
And what I tell is what occurred to me.
My business had been mine, both free and clear.
What I shall tell is how that I am here.
When you know that, you also will know why
I'll farm again beyond the farthest sky."

"Come on, "the Purser added. "We are curious.
Have out your say,  that we may not be furious."

The Farmer trembled, gave a little wail,
And tremulously began his little Tale.

"It seems to me it is just simply reason
to take care and respect the growing season,
for if we don't, for all our daily strife,
we put in peril then our very life.
We all know it is beautiful and sweet
To be assured we have enough to eat.
We go to any length so we can carve
A destiny in which we will not starve.
To such a length I had to go one year
When money for new seeds was all too dear.
The lenders want to take your very arm.
As surety I had to give the farm.
No matter how much care that you may take,
You still can make a terrible mistake.
The almanac on which I called each morn
Gave a wrong date on which to plant the corn.
I did not know it until far too late
And thereby sealed the tenor of my fate.
"You have no crop. The money now is due."
The lender rubbed his hands. "I'd pity you
If pity now were due, but it is not.
Of house and land I now will take the lot."
And money?  I was up a leafless tree.
A bit of careful thinking made me see
To go seek out an NC homestead grant
And not to tell my doubting self, 'I can't.'
So here I am, for goodness or for ill.
Say what you may, it is a bitter pill.
Take care to check what you assume is fine.
You may fall victim to the bottom line."

"That's all that one can safely say about it."
The Purser frowned. "Can anyone now doubt it?"

The silence in the room was then so clear, it
Seemed that you could hardly help but hear it.


Tales of New Canterbury – The "Love All" Preacher's Prologue

"I've sat and listened while you've had your say
As each of you has tried to have your way,
As if then you and only you were right,
And some of you are now prepared to fight.
With feelings now so rife, and cruelest hate,
You're ready to surrender all debate.
The only cure for all of this is Love –
The kind that comes down gladly from Above.
The kind that never fails and knows no fear.
The kind that stays unswayed from what is dear.
The kind that never doubts but always hopes,
That lifts you up when you are on the ropes.
The one that suffers long, and you will find
It still retains the power to be kind.
It doesn't think too highly of itself;
So put your petty worries on the shelf.
And yes, I have a useful T ale to offer,
And with it goes a saying I will proffer,
That you may then be turned from your sad state
And have instead a cause to celebrate.
Treat others just the way you wish they'd do
To you, and do it for them even if they sue.
And now indeed so this won't take all day,
Here is my Tale, and we are on our way.

The End of the "Love All" Preacher's Prologue


Tales of New Canterbury – The "Love All" Preacher's Tale

"There was a Preacher once who hated hate..
Whose opposition to it was so great
It spilled right over into all he did,
Including how he treated his own kid.
He ordered that the boy be prim and dapper,
And even loving toward his own kidnapper.
That's right. One sultry summer day
A stranger spirited his son away.
He'd stopped to change a very flattened tire,
And as he did, a stranger driving by there
Stopped and snatched the boy out of the car.
As yet the boy and captor were not far.
'Daddy!  Daddy! The abductor started shoving.
The Preacher only yelled in turn, 'Be loving,
And then it's sure that he will keep you safe,"
But no plan that was tried turned out fail-safe.
The captor got his loot. The Feds got him.
From there on out it all got really dim.
That man had been – well, something less than kind.
From injuries to the head, the child was blind.
The father blamed himself for that disaster.
He said, 'If only I had made myself move faster,
I could have seen my son entirely saved
From such a monster. Totally depraved!'
He saw to it his son got finest care.
Whatever the boy needed, he was there.
And had he done the thing his father said?
'If he had not,' the Sheriff said, 'the boy'd be dead.'
Yes, there were many joys the son then missed,
But he became a concert pianist.
Yet since the father'd not been more involved
He never really felt himself absolved
Of what he deemed a crime 'gainst his own flesh,
And never later felt both free and fresh.
By now it should be fully clear to you
I was that father. So I can't tell you
What always the best course is sure to be,
Or that true love will always set you free.
If I must choose between that love and hate,
I'll choose the love, whatever then my fate.
Do what you will, whatever be the test.
I only hope your choice will be the best.

So ends the "Love All" Preacher's Tale.


Tales of New Canterbury – After the Final Tale

"All right," the Doctor suddenly broke in.
"I've heard enough of what pigs wallow in.
It isn't even fit to feed a hog.
I'll show you what should go in the Ship's Log.
You all have no idea what you're in for,
And soon you'll wonder what you did begin for.
This all has been a waste of time and us.
It's really been a lot of useless fuss.
You thought it all a rollicking adventure.
You didn't know it would be your indenture."

"Indenture?  Just whatever do you mean?"
the Head Nurse screamed. "You better had come clean!"

"That's so, the Captain's Guard then quickly said,
or I will put a bolt right through your head!"

"Please!  Please!" both Preachers said at once.
"Let no one be in any way a dunce.
Stay cool, and we can work this out."

"Shut up!" the Doctor roared. "This is about
What soon is going to happen to all of you.
You'll wish you didn't know, when I am through."

"I think," the Purser said, you should be plain.
I ask you once. I will not ask again."

"Ask? I don't care bits of stardust what you think,"
the Doctor snarled.  "Your Moderation stinks.
You've no idea what's been going on,
Or quite how far that all of this has gone.
I mean the journey of this putrid ship,
And what you think's the purpose of this trip.
To colonize New Canterbury?  No.
If you think that you're really erring so
Far off course, there really is no hope
For you. You're nothing but a dope,
And also dupe. The powers great, you see,
Had other things in mind for you and me."

"Like what?" The Server's Daughter  roughly said.
"What's going on in your demented head?"

"Demented?"  I have more sagacious sense
than you could ever know. You are just dense.
Who do you think financed this expedition
And sent us all just hurtling to perdition?
The Government?   Oh please do not be funny.
The Government does not have that much money."

"Who does?" The Smuggler sneered. "As if you'd know."

"Know?  You fool, I knew it long ago.
And how?  I think it's really time to tell you now,
Though you're no wiser than a neutered cow.
The Captain here was hired by my bosses,
Who have decided they must cut their losses.
Perhaps you've heard, you poor inverted snob,
Of those guys people often call 'the Mob.'"

"Enough!" the Captain's glance grew sharp and hard.
"I did not know, you villainous blackguard.
I only knew my genuine expertise
Was what was wanted.  I was quite at ease."

"Just so, but they desired great results.
Your failure left them open to insults
From all their peers. It would take many years
To build back up the prestige in arrears.
 To hit you outright would have been a shame.
You are a hero worthy of the name.
They had, you see, a deadly secret ace –
To see to it that you were lost in space.
 That job was mine, which I have now completed;
So all of you are just no longer needed."

The Captain's Son lunged at the Doctor then.
The Lawyer drew a pulse gun, aimed, but when
He tried to fire, a pulse then hit his arm. 

"I could not let you come to any harm,"
The Captain's Guard said.  "You have done no wrong.
This chunk of dung now sings his final song."

"Final? That's what's in store for you."
The Doctor's bitter laugh rang all too true.
"You see, I got to tweak the main "null" drive.
Not one of you will reach New "C* alive!
I also am a hacker on the side.
That's how I could now doom your stinking hides."

The Purser motioned. Soon a dozen guards
Moved in and seized the two confessed, ill-starred
Conspirators. "For you it now is over.
You thought from this somehow to roll in clover.
It will not be. I give you now good reason.
You have committed what is called High Treason
Against all Powers you would care to name.
There's nothing for it. You have lost the Game,
And know indeed that we'll not surely die,
But you instead soon will and not know why
We all will still survive your vicious scheme.
You will not have the merest chance to dream.
Guards, take them now while they are still  in shock
And put them with no suits out the airlock
Nearest this room.  So they "meekly* comply,
Give each a shot so they'll not even try
To get away.  They cannot now pretend
That this for them is not the bitter end."

"Father," the Captain's Son said, "it is true
I never doubted, but believed in you.
But how, Sir Purser, could you do all this
Without it coming unglued, gone amiss?"

"That story is quite long," the Purser said,
but I shall try to make it short instead.
You all thought things had gone from worse to worser;
I was in past times Agent and a Purser,
Trained by Feds to deal with such as these
Effectively, you see, but not with ease.
This whole Scene was to draw these bozos out.
About the outcome we had no great doubt.
The Doctor saw his blood just flowing red.
Not doing it, he was much sooner dead.
The Lawyer's purpose was indeed much coarser.
He was in secret quite a strong Enforcer.
As for the damage to the main "null" drive,
It's small enough that we'll remain alive.
We really didn't catch them soon enough.
The ride from here is going to be rough.

We can't do FTL again, you see.
A genship from now on is what we'll be.
We shall reserve, recycle, and preserve,
All that we can so we'll not have to swerve
From this our course; that's still to hurry
 With all due speed to reach New Canterbury.
A dead one's corpse will now be dehydrated,
Stored, as in a famous Tale.
We also shall raise up a Starwind Sail.
Of all the people present on this ship
Only a few may see the end of trip.
For this to happen we must surely keep
Alternate Watch and cryogenic sleep.
To save our substance, every dead one, bare,
Must be ejected to a grave out there.
All children must be trained to take our places,
Renaissance style, persons of many faces.
Governance must be worked out as we go
So we do not fall into needless woe.
I really wish there were a better way;
As Robert Burns said, plans 'gang aft agley."

So said the Purser, as I do recall.
There may be more. I can't remember all.
I, the writer put down what I do
To try to save all that I know was true.
Forgive me if I don't know everything.
What's here, alas, is all I have to sing.

Aboard the Starship genship Sword and Scabbard
   Stardate  416-3.


Postscript to After the Final Tale

  Afterword

"We can't be sure," the Purser said, "since space is deep,
we shall awaken from our cryogenic sleep.
So I suggest, and do not call it hooey,
We leave behind an information buoy.
The finders then will surely come to know
That this our purpose still remains a 'go'"

At this there were some murmurs and debate
About our having such a dubious fate.
So I the writer leave for you this word –
That we believed our hope was not absurd.
Though you may think it all a fruitless scheme,
We had the courage to pursue our dream.

(At this point the manuscript breaks off..
Signed, Otis Essef, Earthside Editor,  FTL 'Zine)

END