Being a "country singer," I am naturally a very big Shake-speare guy. All us Okies are, and I thus therefore spend a lot of time learning Greek Mythology. Oh, there's Roman versions too, and all sorts of hairy tales from otherwheres, but I mean, people, you just gotta, or you might not rightly gather what Willie is talking about. I know several folks who get confused when they read Shake-speare. You believe that?! It's all clear as a bell to me.
Anyway, Willie was some Greek mythologizing old bird. I guess back in his day they had their gods and goddesses for breakfast, lunch, and supper. As it can be some hard grasping the intricacies of these old yarns, I love to explain 'em so's everyone can enjoy 'em, and I call my versions, Mothology.
Though it's not about your usual dragons and freaks, nor even about Greeks, here's an example of one based on the Pyramus and Thisbe legend that Willie featured in A Midsummer Night's Dream.
Pyramid And Frisbee
Once upon a time, though I only say this 'cause it's one of the all-time big hits, like "Louie, Louie," there were two lovers. One was a guy, and one was a gal. I only say this 'cause these days, who knows? Well, actually this story happened in those days, long ago, and far away. Still, who knows? The lovers' names in this story were Pyramid and Frisbee--I think. My buddy, Triplips Boozer, told me it, and he can sometimes sure get things confused.
They lived in Babbleon when Queen Smearamess was boss. She's the one as built the Well-Hung Gardens there. Pyramid was the handsomest dude in the realm, and Frisbee, the bitchinest babe. Sure. It's always that way in any old story. Oh, some normal guys might of got some ordinary girlfriends, but only the handsomest and bitchinest got a hit story. Ugly kids got stoned to death in their cribs.
Pyramid and Frisbee grew up in the same neighborhood, right next door to each other. In fact, the neighborhood was so crowded together that one wall of their houses was common to both. Them being so handsome and bitchin', they naturally fell in love as kids, but their folks wouldn't let 'em get hitched. It was mostly her mother: said li'l Frisbee'd have to wait til she was at least 12.
"Love, however, cannot be forbidden," Triplips told me, spoutin' quotes. "The more that flame is covered up, the hotter it burns. Also, love can always find a way. 'Twas impossible these two hearts on fire should be kept apart."
Well, these two hearts on fire came to pretty much hate that wall between 'em, but nothing gets by young lovers. One day Pyramid spots this little chink in the wall. A light bulb comes on over his noggin, and he whispers through the chink, "Friz! Friz, baby--you there?"
Frisbee heard his voice and right away figures what anybody would--that wall could talk! She whispers back, "Hi. Who might you be?"
"It's me, Friz, Pyramid."
"Wow! How cool. That's my boyfriend's name!"
"No--no, baby. It's really me. I'm on the other side."
She finally figured it out, and after that they was forever standing by that wall having hot conversations through that chink. Their parents would see them and think how a pretty head outside often only compensates for a great emptiness inside. But us, we know better. Hateful as the wall was to keep them separated, it also gave them a way to keep in touch.
"This is at least a way for loving words to reach loving ears," said Frisbee.
"Yeah, yeah," Pyramid muttered, "but I'd rather someone'd invent telephones."
This went on all day and night for months til came a day their parents headed off together looking for a head doctor.
"Baby," whispered Pyramid, "we gotta make a run for it tonight or wind up in a padded cave. When it's dark, sneak off and meet me by Old King Nineass' tomb."
"Right-o," cooed she. "We'll forever together be, and tombs are so romantic."
King Nineass had been Queen Smearamess' hubby til he kicked: well, til she done him in, but that's another yarn. His tomb was off aways outside town under a mulberry tree with snow-white berries. Yep. Back then, all mulberries was white, not red.
Soon as the sun sank into the sea with a big sizzle and it was dark, she throws on an overcloak, and there goes pretty little Frisbee, off to meet her pretty little Pyramid. But he wasn't there yet. She took to twiddlin' her thumbs, counting snow-white mulberries, and reading tombstones and such, til after awhile she started tapping her dusty little toes impatient like. Still, no Pyramid.
Then of a sudden she looks off and spies this here big old lioness coming her way licking her big bloody chops with a big bloody tongue. It had just chowed down on some poor Babbleonian hobo or whatever, and was aiming to have an after dinner drink at the spring there by the tomb. 'Course our gal didn't know that. All she knew was lions can climb mulberry trees better'n Frisbees can.
She hollers, "Hoo-ha!" and lit out t'other way quicker'n I can tell it. She streaked off so fast she ran out from underneath her overcloak. She didn't even ponder stopping to snatch it up, and I'm not all so sure I would have either. The big she-cat belched; didn't even see her. After lapping up a lion-sized drink, she commenced back toward dinner. That's when she spotted the overcloak.
"Oh, hey," the lioness purred, "a napkie."
She was happy finding it, since as we all know, cats are tidy critters. She paused to wipe the blood and little leftover bits of hobo meat or whatever from off her face, in the process ripping the napkie a-shred with her teeth and claws. She was tidy but not all that deft.
Soon enough, here come ol' Pyramid, whistling and a-singing, smiling crafty-like, thinking he's about to get lucky. Boy, was he ever wrong.
"Frisbee. Oh, Frisbee," he calls, supposing his gal's working some coy hide-'n-seek trick. "Olly-olly-oxen-free. C'mon out, Friz--give sweetie a kiss."
Then Pyramid, he spots Frisbee's overcloak there all raggedy-ripped up, and gasps a mighty gasp. He adds that bloody clue to the lion tracks all around and the fact that his hon's not there, then comes up with a theory: Frisbee was into rough-sex bestiality, and had eloped with a lesbian lioness!
Well, thinking this, he was some heartbroke, as probably would have been you or I. Or is it me? Grammar. Whatever, he figured immediately he had miserable failed to protect his true love from the dangers of the world outside their cozy homes, and now he had lost her. Well, wasn't no way he was going back to wind up with some second-best beauty queen, so he decides to end it all and hauls out his sword. They gave up easy to this kind of disappointment back then.
Pyramid slides his blade right betwixt rib four and rib five, says, "Ow," and lays down under the mulberry tree with the overcloak to wait for the undertaker. Blood started spurting up from his wound and splashed onto all the little snow-white mulberries overhead, whereby they all turned--you guessed it--blood-red.
Before too long Frisbee came sneaking back all tip-toey fearful, hoping she don't find her boyfriend stretched out like some king-size mouse. She didn't. She couldn't even find the snow-white mulberries mulberry tree. But she found the tomb and the spring, and figures this must be the same place. Right then she spots something moving under the tree and like to had a coronary thinking it's Snagglepuss. Just as she's again about to exit stage left, running all the way, she heard a whispery groan, and recognized that sexy sound from a certain chink in a certain wall. She ran over to Pyramid's side from which she alertly noted his pig-sticker sticking out. Or was it in? Grammar.
"Oh, Pyramid," she caterwauled, "don't die! Speak up! Say something! It is I, your dearest Frisbee."
Pyramid squinks open an eye, says, "'Me.' I think it's, 'It is me.' Grammar!"
With that he give up the ghost and went off to explore Nineass' current kingdom. This kinda made Frisbee sad. She eye-lensed the bloody overcloak, the bloody sword, the bloody boyfriend, focused, and got the big picture.
"Though by your own hand you are slain," she lamented, "'twas your love for me--I?--that really done the deed. So, it is I who killed you. Or was it me? Well, I too can be brave. Or is it...oh the deuce! Only death would have had the power to part us--we?--I'll be switched if it shall have that power now!"
She snatched up her beloved's sword and plunged it straight between her near-adolescent, half-A sized chubbies. It was right easy, pre-lubed and all. As you might expect, this move proved fatal, and she--her?--fell down in a heap across Pyramid's corpse. There they lay--lied?--all night: pretty, but a big mess.
Next morning Nineass' tombkeeper found them there just like that--a pretty big mess. It was shocking. Made all the newspapyruses. But in the end the Gods and the parents took pity on the star-crossed lovers. No--that was Rummy-o and Julius. Anyways, as a memorial, mulberries have ever after been blood-red. Pyramid and Frisbee were torched, and their ashes dumped into the same urn. Some say this was a cheap parental economy-funeral move. Maybe. Yet there their remains remain, though I don't think that's at all what they had in mind when they wished to forever together be.
May 17, 1998