jamieproctor.ca

In the beginning, there were some people. Human people. Well, it wasn’t quite the beginning then anyways, ‘cause there were people before that, but everybody’s selfish and has to make it all about them.
So anyways, the beginning of this story starts with a new, special kind of human. This man had fingers that’d start to itch and jump, he had eyes that looked for the odds, he had a brain that just wouldn’t stop clicking away with opportunities and chances. He was a gambling man, and he was the one that found out how to make little symbols on little rocks he carved into little cubes, and just what sort of thing that was good for. He gambled for food and he gambled for tools and he gambled just for the fun of it, and he drove everybody else batty.
“Son,” his mother told him, “the boss says if you don’t stop this kind of thing, you’re going to get kicked out.”
“Hey, it’s all right,” he told her. “I’ll go talk to him, make it alright.”
So he went and talked to the boss. “Hey,” he said, “I bet you two to one on throws of this die that I get to stay in.”
Well, he won the first throw, and he won the second throw, and that was when the boss looked at that die and saw half the faces were all one kind. That started an argument, and that started a fight, and that was what led to the gambling man walking around by himself all alone, grumbling with his mouth and his stomach all at once.
“Hungry, hungry, hungry,” he complained. “If my guts complain this much, they should just up and leave, see how they do finding food on their own. So hungry, I’m fit to burst.”
Then he had an idea, and then he saw a gazelle, and he decided to put them together. His fingers itched, so he knew it was a good idea.
“Hey gazelle,” he called, “how ‘bout a bet?”
The gazelle stared at him. They’re good at that. Just let those big dark eyes hang open and look right through you. “What?” he asked.
“I bet you,” said the gambling man, “that I can outrun you by the end of this day. And if I win, I can eat you, and if you win, I can teach you how to use tools, just like me.”
The gazelle twitched his ears a bit at the part about eating, but they twitched twice as hard at the talking about tools. Wasn’t an animal alive that didn’t hanker for a bit of knowing about tools like humans did, and here was one volunteering it practically for free, all against having to outrun those flabby two legs of his. “You’ve got a bet,” he said. “Now one two three four go go go goodbye,” and he sprang away like a wildfire jackrabbit about a hundred times faster than the gambling man had ever run, ever.
The gambling man laughed – but low and quiet, so nobody’d hear – and then he broke into a walk, and that broke into a jog, and that broke into a run, a chug-chug-chug one-leg-in-front-of-the-other gallop that moved along with the steadiness of a seaside gale. He sweated and he panted and now and then he cursed, but he kept going along like clockwork, slow but steady, following the footprints of the gazelle in front of him. And by the time the sun was dipping down the sky, he caught up to that gazelle. He was lying down on his side in a brush patch, too tired to move.
“You. Must’ve. Cheated,” managed the gazelle. His mouth was bubbly with foam.
The gambling man shrugged, staggered, and stayed upright. “Just practice,” he said, “nothing to it.” And then he picked up a rock and a stick and he decided to put them together, and that was the end of the gazelle right there, but it was just the start for the gambling man. He got three breakfasts, five lunches, and three dinners out of that gazelle, and had a fine bone left to pick his teeth with when he was done. He was happy as a clam and a thousand times as jaunty, and he invented humming while he was walking up the way north, making up a new tune every mile until the miles he recognized ran out, replaced with cold air and strange new trees.
“Could use a coat,” he muttered to himself. “A nice fur coat, to keep out this chill.” And then he saw something strange and big nipping greenery from a tree, had an idea, and put them together.
“Hey you there!” he yelled. “What are you?”
“I’m a deer,” said the deer. She twitched her ears at him. “What do you want, small, hairless thing?”
“I’m a gambling human,” said the gambling man, “and I’ve got a bet you’ll want to take. I’ll wager your coat to my itching thumbs right here that you can’t keep ahead of me until sundown, no matter how fast you run, or how far you flee. How about that, eh?”
The deer laughed at that, then thought about it. Everybody could use a good pair of thumbs; you can’t pick things up so easy without them. “It’s a deal,” she said. “One two go go go go,” and she was gone away into the bush with big bounds and a single white-flash of her tail.
The gambling man chuckled fit to burst and broke into his run again, slow and loping, one foot two foot, the run of the human that starts slow and ends slow but goes on forever in the middle. He ran over hills and through dales and up and down and around all the river valleys, through the thick white stuff that fell from the sky (numbed his toes, that did) and through piping-hot springs that bubbled out from under big rocks. His feet hurt mightily, but at the day’s end he found that deer in a glade before the sun had finished its trip, panting her heart out and wheezing through her nose.
“Cheater, cheater,” she managed.
“Nothing to it,” the gambling man retorted. “Just keep on going, that’s all.” So he picked up that bone he’d saved and he picked up a stick and he put them together, and that was it for that deer. He had seven lunches and nine dinners and a bit of breakfast, half of them all at once – to keep his strength up, you know – and a nice fur coat to go with it. He even got a second bone to pick the other half of his teeth with, and that day ended up looking pretty good. Whistling was his next idea; it popped right into his head next day as he was striding along with his full belly. That kept him busy for a week, up until it started getting really cold and none of the stars in the sky made sense anymore. That irritated him, and he was getting hungry again, and maybe he wanted some nice pants to go with his coat, because his knees were getting shaky and knocky with the chill.
“Damn and blast and other words,” he muttered, and then he nearly jumped out of his skin with fright because somebody had just let off the biggest and longest and loudest howl he’d ever heard, right next to him.
“Who’s that?” he called. “No call to make that sort of noise at night! How’re honest folk supposed to walk around with that sort of noise going off in their ears?”
The howl cut off, and two yellow eyes looked at him out of the trees. “I’m the most honest folk that lives around here, and it bothers me none,” they said, between their teeth. “These are my woods, and what are you supposed to be, with your stolen coat and your silly bald skin? You look like a puppy that’s been scraped all over with a rock.”
“I’m a human,” said the gambling man, getting more annoyed, “and I’m a gambler, and what are YOU supposed to be anyways, all high-and-mighty? These are anyone’s woods!”
“I’m a wolf,” said the wolf, “and I don’t like your tone. How about you leave these woods – MY woods, not anyone’s woods – or I’ll make you leave faster than that, and with a few holes in that hairless behind of yours.”
“Not so fast now,” said the gambling man. He was eyeing the wolf in the shadows, and he saw the thickest, bushiest coat of fur he’d ever eyed, a coat that made his fingers itch like mad mosquitoes. “How about we make this interesting? If I can outrun you before the night’s up, I get your coat. But if you catch me first, I’ve got to leave you alone in your woods. How about that, eh?”
The eyes narrowed. “My coat is my coat, and it’s nobody else’s. You can have something else if you win, which you won’t. And if I win, you’re going out of my woods all right – straight into my belly, and your bones into my teeth for a crack at the marrow. Take it or leave it.”
The gambling man thought about that. “And where do I go if I leave it?” he asked.
“Guess,” said the wolf.
“Right. Deal! One two three… go!”
And off set the gambling man, feet pumping in that tireless grind, legs pistons, body a lanky spring, teeth bared and nostrils flared, eating the miles under his toughened-up soles and chuckling in the back of his head all the while.
“How’s it going back there?” he called after a while.
“A bit slow,” said the wolf, up ahead of him. “I may have to take a nap, to make this fair.”
The gambling man pursed his lips. “Ah, we’ll see what you say in a few hours,” he said, and he kept running, up a hill down a hill, through a forest and down a swamp, skipping ‘cross tree-trunks, dancing on stones over a frozen river, calluses crackling in the dark cold night.
“How’re you liking that pace then?” he called, as he went over another stony meadow.
“Not so bad,” said the wolf, from up ahead, “but you’re dragging your feet. Keep up, or you’ll bore me silly!”
The gambling man gritted his teeth. “Wait a bit, and say that again!” he shouted, and he sprinted like a gazelle, a bolt of fur-flapped lightning in the night as he shot through blackened trees with crisp, frozen needles, mashed mosses to pulp under his toes, tore apart stones from stones with the force of his feet. His nails cracked and split, his heel ached, his knees were balls of fire that shrieked at every step, and the night wore old as he ran.
“What do you think about THAT?” he said triumphantly at the night.
There was a quiet moment, and then that voice spoke up again. “Good work!” it said from at his side. “But careful now; you’ll tire yourself out if you keep that up, and worn-down meat is sour.”
The gambling man seethed inside so hot and angry that he didn’t feel the night air, ground his teeth so hard that his toothpick nearly snapped. And then he thought about that toothpick, and he thought about the wolf, and he put those things together. And THAT made him smile in the dark.
“You’re right, you’re right,” he told the wolf. “I’d better relax a bit, not wear myself out. Why, I’m soo tired right now, I might have to drop some of this heavy stuff I’m carrying around so I can keep running. Guess I’ll just toss this
nice
thick
tasty
deer-bone
right over there in that pond. It’ll be a shame to miss it, but I’ve got no choice!” And as he said this, the gambling man did it, sent the bone spinning away with a splash and a thud.
The wolf didn’t say anything for a minute.
“You there?” asked the gambling man.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” said the wolf. “I’ve got to check on something.” And there was another splash, and the gambling man smiled to himself and put an extra spring in his step.
Time wore on, and the sky got a bit lighter, a bit brighter, far away on the edge of the world. “How’s it going?” asked the gambling man of the shadows around him.
“Fine, fine, fine,” said the wolf from at his heel – a bit breathlessly, a bit damply, and with his mouth just a tiny bit full. “Great. And I’ve worked up a real appetite, too – haven’t had so much fun in all my life.”
“Me either,” said the gambling man. “Haven’t had a nice run like this in forever. I don’t want to end, almost.”
“Well, the sun’s coming up now,” said the wolf. “Guess it’s about to.”
“Ah! It’s in my eyes,” said the gambling man, casting his hands in front of his eyes. “Ah! I can’t see! Oh my, I think I might have dropped my
mysterious
delicious
fine-aged
gazelle-bone
right back there in that pile of rocks!”
And he had.
The gambling man heard a rummaging and a clattering behind him, and he smiled a lot more and ran a bit faster. And when the sun popped clean of the trees and he saw no shadow at his side, he stopped running and sat down for a bit, to wait.
Five minutes later, up came the wolf. Out of breath, with still-damp fur, but with two big bones in his mouth. He looked a lot smaller in the daylight.
“Chfeater,” said the wolf.
“They were heavy, that’s all,” said the gambling man. “And I believe I’ve won our bet.”
The wolf spat the bones out. “Fine then. Name your prize.”
The gambling man rubbed his chin a bit. “I’m a long ways from home up here,” he said. “And it gets hard sometimes, and lonely, and cold, but mostly it gets lonely. A man can use a friend sometimes, especially a gambling man like me.”
“Fine,” said the wolf. “But I get first chance at the bones now.”
The gambling man sighed, and mourned the loss of his toothpicks, but he nodded. “Fair is fair, and friends share.”