Nick Klaus's Fables, Page 2

the ruthless Mr. Crutchfield had gone missing. The slip, as he called it and told me, started after he came across a forgotten camera in Mr. Crutchfield’s stable. What happened then? The picture becomes blurred. If I understand it clearly though, he was supposed to discover the Outmoded Landscape to free . . . Hold on a minute. I’ve just written that . . . Now you can see for yourself what sorts of mind pranks I have to deal with when I deal with Nick Klaus.

  Anyway, since getting stuck in the photo album, I don’t believe Nick has grown older. How do I know this? For a start, I don’t believe anyone has ever gotten older by having his or her picture taken. For a second start, I do believe that once the picture is taken, whoever has been photographed remains the age he or she is in that picture—forever. And for a finishing start, I’ve noticed over the years, especially as the end of the year draws near, how Nick Klaus seems to grow restless. His increased activities consist of writing me numerous letters. They are always hand-written with the same noticeably shaky bubbly letters of a young writer. Now if that is not the most irrevocable evidence of someone not getting older, I don’t know what is.

  You may ask too, why does he write to me towards the end of the year? I haven’t been able to figure that one out, yet. Maybe it is because Nick Klaus rhymes with Santa Claus?

  Be that as it may, when I wake up in the morning, I find his letters on my desk. His letters are really stories, even though they arrive in envelopes with my address on them. There are all types of stories. Some are funny. Some are absurd. Some are baffling, some discomforting or outrageous, and some even really truly sad. But they share certain undeniable features. To begin with, all the stories are one page long. No more and no less. Actually, let me rephrase that. Most are. Some do stretch beyond the single page. But never more than two. And all the stories end with the same question: “And the moral of this story is?” So I’m tempted to call Nick’s stories fables, because even though they only take a few minutes to read, I often find myself reclining in my chair for hours, wondering and pondering over their meanings, what Nick Klaus wanted to say and me to learn.

  If I recall from my years as a student of literature, the goal of a fable is always to make a statement and to teach a moral, another word for a code of behavior. Now I don’t know if you fancy learning how to be, but if you don’t mind, I can’t wait for you to tell me what you think of them, because I’ve noticed that morals are just like fish. Just when you think you hold them tight, they slip through your fingers. This happens especially when someone says something you had never thought of before.

  Before we go further, we have to clear something. You may ask why he would choose to contact me rather than you. This is a valid concern. I can tell you in all certainty that his choice was not random. I have grown over the years used to deciphering children’s writing, not only the challenging shape of the letters but also all the dubious spelling of words. When you come across words such as jimnastix iz speshel, you know that you need a genuine decoding specialist to transcribe them back into a more mundane idiom. My job has been to rewrite these fables so that you could understand and fully appreciate them. Nick Klaus knew I could tackle such a monumental task.

  Still the question readers ask me the most, apart from the ones tackled above is: Where is Nick Klaus now?” No one knows for sure. I certainly don’t know. But he must be on his way to solving his problems. He has to be. His parents have been waiting for him ever since he slipped, and I’m sure that he can’t wait to see them again. Who wants to remain stuck in an album of photos forever, without getting old and forced to deal with eccentric creatures? For the moment, all I know for certain is that one day (and I don’t mean two this time) he will come back . . . Though, I have heard some unpleasant rumors too. Nick Klaus may have been turned into a frog. I personally remain skeptical. Do frogs write fables? I never heard of one who does. Mind you, I’ve been told that in the land of fables spotting a frog writing fables would not be unusual. So if you do come across a frog writing fables you may have found Nick. I beg you to inform me at once.

  Before turning my attention to Nick Klaus’s writing, I have to make a confession. This collection of fables is not entirely all from him. I could not resist the temptation to try my hand at writing one. So I have inserted “The Fabulist’s Fable,” as a way to introduce you to the delicate tightrope walk that fabulists expose themselves to. The fable’s merit (and it does have some) is to explain the effective ways that fabulists use fables and to what end. I hope that you will indulge me this little detour.

  But I must stop here. The editor of this book is hitting my desk with her ruler. I’ve gone on too long. My Foreword is already more than two pages long, which was my limit.

  However, finally I would just like to add . . . Ouch! Ouch!