Tralfador Flemmingstock
And with laboured breath, Tralfador Flemmingstock rose from the green, lined his shot and swung. Luck, he thought, was on his side today. His mind, not so much. His thoughts betrayed him. Shifting his red and green tweed hat, his breast swelled and he let out a honk. He was but a goose after-all.
“Tender as ever Tralfador” turning he saw the gaggle waddling over. Ralph Berkingeorge, fitted-in long patterned socks and hat, continued “Although it seems, my friend, you’ve lost your touch! Is there something on your mind?” His query loaded with inferrance and a cheeky grin to match.
“Come now Raplh, on a day as lovely as this” the goose waddled up and easily pocketed the shot. “What would I have interfere with my task at hand- that of showing you up” Tralfador responded gleefully with a wry smile, hoping Ralph would ease up on his interrogation when the gals caught up. Margret was one to pry, and like Ralph, very good at picking up on things unsaid. No words needed for him to be seen by anyone but as an actor on stage recounting an epic tragedy of unrequited love. Florence piped up “I thought you were supposed to be good at this Tralfador” she teased. His heart sank. His honker was mute; how was he to respond when teased by a goddess. Ralph, sensing his distress came to the rescue. “And here he was telling me how you were winning. By my count, Maggy and I have no less than double the points of you fouwls!” After a sharp look and swelled breath, the air around Margret seemed to raise in tempereture. “Ralph dear,” she eased herself “For the umptheenth time, this is golf, not cricket. The less points the better.” The embaressed Ralph shot Tralfador a subtle smile before rolling his eyes. “Oh! Blast it, I’m so bad with all these rules.” A hearty honk, contagiously resounded through the gaggle. It was moments like these that Tralfador dared steal glances. Seeing her laugh elevated his spirit, catching her eye- catching his, made his heart leap like a goosling out of a pond in Winter. “Now enough blabber” Margret chimed “It’s Florence’s shot.”
“That it is! And what a fine shot it will be.” Excitedly her head craned to Tralfador. Though probably no longer than a moment in reality; turth lost all sense when she was round. As it turned out, so did his hearing! “Well Tralf?” Her eyes inquisitly suggested. “-of course!” he blurted, a little honk stammering his speech. He didn’t know the question but the answer would’ve been the same for anything she could’ve asked. Worse than a mirror, he was but a pane of glass when it came to her. “Come on then” she flapped her wing calling him closer. “It’s not everyday I have a professional able to help with my swing.” The breeze swept the grass around her and her feathers rustled lightly. Elegant couldn’t begin to describe her. Sure it worked for the likes of Raplh, who in his age and stature on the older side of the pond, suited it quite well. He had meet Maggy when they were both geeselings, and though they’d had their ups-and-downs; were stil seen cooing and intertwining necks on a cold night. The checkered flag waived in the distance about 50m away. She was already by the tee rummaging through her bats. As Tralfador got close, he noticed she had the Ubergoose wraped in her grasp. “The Gee’seling might be better suited for the terrain” he chirped. Embarassed she chimed back “Uh, yes, well you see I didn’t quite see the um-“
“-I’m sure, with eyesight as great as yours, you were looking far beyond to the next flag; a simple mistake” he smiled and crooked his neck slightly. Her faced eased “Not all of us can be reinging champions.” She gleamed. With a spin and Gee’seling in hand, sauntered closer to the tee to practice her swing. His mind tossed. He’d coached many young geese aspiring to one day claim his crown, but he’d never seen anyone with such poise; but terrible technique. “Well don’t just stand there and stare! Sure I’m pretty, but pretty won’t win us dinner!” He’d forgotten all about the wager. Ralph had been hounding on-and-on about Red Rocks, the newly opened lobster bar in the golfhouse. “It’s just magical, the servers all wear lobster costumes, heck, you might even have a frog serving your drinks!” He continued “Tralfador, it really is something you’d get a kick out of.” The goose, sitting with whiskey on wing, looked over the course as his friend rabbled on. “Odd isn’t it, that the gals aren’t here yet. Maggy was saying she was interested in oh, what was it called… something about a cat, or was it a dog?”
“The dog-box” Tralfodor said. In a conversation earlier in the week, he could recall how excited Florence was about their bone-appertif- A dessert so good you’ll be crazy as a dog in a junkyard! or so it was advertised. “Ah yes, that’s the one.” Ralph followed Tralfador’s gaze out across the course. “Are you worried about the new regulations?” his tone suddenly solemn.
He was worried.
From the 1st of June, standard metal-alloy clubs were to be used by all partcipants in the world series. Tigers, lions, bears and geese were now all on an even playing field. Except for the fact Tralfador couldn’t even pickup the club.
There was no life or spirit in the chunks of metal handed out. No nicks, scratches or stories. The likes of Fling’s Flyers would be putt out of business! Fredrich Fling had been the creator of some of the most wonderful golfbats, including his own set. You see, geese struggle with the size of “regular” golf clubs, so the golfbat was created- a wooden, lighter alternaive balanced to even the playing field.
His set was procured over the years. His mahogany and pine wacker was the oldest. Given to him by his father when he first showed interest now many years ago. Not often used, but now dearly treasured. These days his palm thowcker was most frequently reached for. Of all his bats, his most prized was the Double Headed Goose; a custom work from Fredrich Fling himself. Who’d’ve thought monkeys would be any good at making bats! Who was he to judge.
As it turns out, when the goose beats the tiger at a world series- everyone wants to know where they too can get their own bat. Upon returing home Tralfador was treated to something truely special.
“From one friend to another, you’ve earned this. Come see me soon. F.
The first time he laid eyes upon the piece he thought he’d never be able to play with it. Carved from spruce the dark colour took his breath away. On the top, a carved head resembelling his father, with two rubys socketed in the eyes. Down the neck the flax handling wrapped itself. Past the natural crook, an engraving. Keep Waddling.
Further along he noticed yet another head, his own. This time with a flat edge along the beak. He was in awe. Fredrich had really outdone himself. The weight was nice, it swung his spirit well.
The goose looked back from the course to his friend. “Terrified.”
With the timing of a slap-stick comedy Margret and Florence could be heard chirtiling as they rounded the corner. Ralph kept his eyes on Tralf as he cleared his throat, swallowed the last of his whiskey and stood up to greet the gals. Ralph sighed and followed suit “Darling” he chimed “What took you so long! If we’re to get a game in before dinner we’d best book!”
“Well” Margret started. Ralph raised his eyes to Tralf. “Florence and I were both honking away earlier and when the idea of dinner came up and we were just mortified to find us devided on the matter.”
Ralph began to swell his breast as to prepare to speak.
“Now before you get all uppitty and in a fuss. You may noice that we are both still here, meaning some sort of agreement has been come to, would you like to know, dear?”
Ralph let out some air and with a tender smile said “But of course”
“Three actually!” Florence honked. “Rounds of the course that is- loser of each portion is to pay for that part of the meal. If Tralf and I wi-“
“-If they win, dear, then we go to the dog-box; if we do, lobster it is.”
He felt his heart skip, she was smiling at him. They were going to be on a team. He gulped. What if they lost? Would she turn to him and accost his worth? He knew about golf but he was no tiger. “A fine wager indeed.” Ralph agreed. At the time, Tralf thought the wager was slightly poorly balanced, but now he was having second thoughts.
“Definitely pretty!” Tralfador chimed back as he flapped over to Florence. He saw her smile. She was looking repeatedly up to the flag and back down to the ball. He wondered if she was going to hit it. Though to spite his thoughts, the shot scared not just him but also the clump of dirt, now flying, that was once situated by the tee.
He chuckled. She spun around with an over-pouted frown. “All right then Mr. Hootshot, what am I missing?”
“You need to take some more time!” he replied “Breathe in and out, calmly look down your shot, and swing through rather than at the ball.” He could’ve gone on, though he felt it wouldn’t help his situation. She pouted her peckers turned around and shifted her weight between her waddlers. She lined up her shot and aced it. It really flew. And kept going… A little far but much better than she’d anticipated to result in her flapping up with a cluckle. “Haha, Yes! I am declaredly the greatest Goose-olfist of them all!” He couldn’t help the goofy grin that had come over his face.
As anyone whose played golf with a goose before knows, they like to waddle in time with the rhythm of the wind when tracking from shot-to-shot. Maggy and Ralph had already starting making tracks to where the shot had landed. Pecking at the ground every now and then. Ralph was obviously starting to get hungry. So was Tralf. One round to each team, the winner would be declared at the end of the course; and the venue for one now well worked for feast. Head held high and hips swaying, Florence really was of another breed. He could spend all day watching her waddle. It was like she had some chip in his mind. The thought of her spiralled him away from commonsense. Back to the basics “How’s work?” he blurted. Her beak reached for the sky and her breast collapsed releasing the air from her lungs. “Max wants me to take some job over in Germany.” She said plainly. “Supposedly it’s only going to be for a couple of months. But To be honest, I think he’s got some other geesling in mind.” Florence was the face of Faux Duk, the latest fragrance of Alexander Duk Faux. Max, her manager had been with her for a long time, but more recently she’d been cold when it came to him. “Do you want to go to Germany?” He asked. “I’ve been before, I’d love to go again- just not for work.” She craned her neck “Just for fun.” She smiled. “Come now children!” Margret hootered from across the way, feathers flapping. “Ralph here won’t stop complaining about how hungry he is.”
“We should shake a tail feather” Florence said “We don’t want to miss out on a free dinner after all.”
The final shot was tense The venue for dinner was decidedly canine, with a bonus desert round on the table. “Ok, just remember to breathe.” Tralfador cautioned “If you make this, all the bon-appertif in the world will be yours.” Florence was focused. In her element. stunning.
He’d seen her all over the town, on billboards and adshels. She’d covered magazines. But, nothing was more breathtaking then her eyes peircing, squinting. A constant battle between calculation and calm raging, though he face sculpted as if in marble.
Steady breaths.
Then she swung -he held his breath.
The ball picked its path and struck true. On baited breath eyes watched with mouths held. Heads began to track the path.
The ball lands in the hole. Excitedly, Traldfador and Florence share a moment. Ralph chimes in that it surely must be dinner time. Margret happily agrees. They head inside, collect their things and head to the dog-box.
It’s just a dog’s leg away round the corner and down the road. the dog-box Truely was a sight to behold. A large, red, rectangular – triangularly pointed four-storey restaurant surrounded by garden on all sides. A purple fountain stood proudly out the front of a circular gravel cobble drive. Residing in the fountain this evening were Mr. and Mrs Karp of the My Carp of The Year awards on Bookings, Reservations, Cancellations and Welcoming guests.
“Welcome today”
“Yes Welcome.”
“Are you here for a Booking?”
“Reservation?”
“Or Cancellation” they both karped.
Being closer to the giant dog head wasn’t Tralfador’s favourite place by any means. That being said, It was rather impressive. A long red carped was rolled out as a tongue, with a golden pedestal with a velvet chain rope leading to the throat, and stomach of the building.
Large bull-dog head facade. Mouth agape and tongue used as a red carpet. Tonsils are a large fabulous glass chandelier.
It was as though, at all times, servers serving. Waiting for the right moment, end up not waiting when the moment was right to move. Movers on the other hand moving guests, like sheep. Hearding them. Tralfador really wasn’t at home here at all. He’d been very close to very dead by a rabid dog. They sat and enjoyed their meal. One course Entrees, Mains, Wine throughout the night and then dessert. It was a good day. Before dessert came, Margret Honked up.
“Darlings, it’s been an absolute delight, but I must admit I don’t fell fully myself, just a little unwell rest assured. Though I will have to bid you farewell for the evening” She smilled over to Ralph. He smiled back. Tralfador hoped that one day, he’d find a mate like that. Gee’se mate for life, right?
“Oh Margret I’m sorry to hear that” Tralf begins as he starts to stand. “I’m sure Ralph will take care of you- right old man?”
Ralph was a little less than impressed, but only let a jolly response leave his lips. “Well of course I will boy now I’ll make sure to pay on the way out- and you can’t follow me because there’s DESSERT to eat.”
“-Dear”
The pair dwardled off.
Tralfador sat before her. He wanted to be on his best behaviour, he wanted to be himeslf. She smiled at him from across the table. A waiter looms in the corner. He’s waiting. What was he waiting for? Was it a what or a who? Whom? Not for Thou. “Did I tell you about twoose?” honked Florence.
“The whipped cream?” Her face let him know he was probably quite well off the mark.
twoose Was established by Florence Phillipspoont and Margret ‘Maggy’ Berkingeorge. The designs, something to behold. To stare into them alone is interguing. The material they’re made from is the finest gee’se fleece. They’re even lined up for a collaboration with Gus. You’ll find thier designs at any of the golf courses you may happen to go to. Scarfs, Hats, Socks and Picnicing Essentials were their speciallity. In fact, guys was wearing two of the items in the fall collection right now.
His face let tell that embaressment was afoot.
They get seated and enjoy their meal. Margret is feeling a little ill and excuses herself to take leave alongside Ralph. Tralfador and Florence share desert. Get’s a note she has to leave for Germany. He says he can drop her at the airport. takes her to the airport via her apartment. Learns max made an advance on her and was unplesant about it. And the rejection. He takes her to the airport. Drive through dropoff is closed – so he has to park. They go into the terminal, drop off the bag, and check-in. They leave the terminal. They go up to the look-out tower.
Florence Phillipspoont
P Florence is meeting with margret. Old fashion guru. Still has style. Editor of The Goo’se the trendiest fasion mag. Florence is a FashionGeesta her job is to be fashion. She’s currenlty the face of Alexander Duk Faux, Faux Duk Fragrance. She was meeting today with Tralfador Flemmingstock and Ralph Berkingeorge, for a couple of rounds of golf – loser buys dinner. Plays golf
the ending. fin.
Shared ending story. One side of the book is from Tralfador’s side – the other from Florence – in the centre, the pages both read the same.
SPOILERS – this is the ending
It was pleasant up off the ground. The air was fresh, the sun was bright. In the world, conditions were well. Two geese stood at the top of tower one with a twoose scarf blowing in the wind. For now. This was goodbye. They’d had a great night. Hinks were honked and time was well spent. She had to go. They both knew it. He swallowed.
Her neck slightly craned. He smiles dumbly. “Well, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah. Definitely”
They both looked into the others eyes. She flys off. He stands for a moment and waits. When her neck begins to crane, he’s already begun to turn.
It was just a missed connection.
.