Moose-Head Stew

One day Waganuk just went crazy. I don’t really know what happened but it was sometime after 25 minutes past 11 at night, that all the pandemonium began. He put on all the clothes he ever had and declared he was going to Hell. ‘It’s going to be hot in there’ we said, but he just ignored us and went on tinkering with all the paraphernalia he ever owned. He stuffed in the important things like his ‘1001 bed time stories’ book, garden scissors and half-eaten sandwiches in a big yellow portable mini taxi and said ‘So long folks’, and trotted off into the moon.

We sat around in shock and dismay for a while and then remembered that we had to cook moose-head stew for Muchopick, who was suffering from a terrible cold. It wasn’t easy cooking moose-head stew, because catching a moose is always a problem. The moose, you see, is not really that stupid, contrary to popular belief. And they are, indeed, unbelievably strong. It hides for days, as it can survive on very little food and keeps us waiting in the freezing cold. Then, when we are weak from cold and hunger, so weak that we cannot even raise our eyebrows , he waltzes past and flashes us a dirty smile, and we cannot do a thing about it. Maybe it isn’t that the moose is suddenly smart…maybe it’s just us who have become dumber by the day.

‘How will he go?’ asked Snubbabub, after we finished tending Muchopick. ‘Three miles south…seventh door to the right’ said wise old Retipop, who claimed that he had been to Hell once before. Wise as he maybe, we all thought he was senile. But turns out he wasn’t far from the truth. It was five miles south, and indeed, the seventh door to the right’. Waganuk wrote to us in a few days with a return address.

He said he was fine, and we were right about the weather. But if you could sell a couple of souls to the Devil, he gave you a raise, and you could cool off at Siberia. Siberia reminded him of home, and he missed us all very much. That was all.

Biggina, who was his special friend, said that she’d go and meet him just once. After all, five miles couldn’t be that big a deal. But everyone, including Retipop warned her against it. ‘Besides, Biggina, he’d be in Siberia, and that’s further than Hell.’ She blew her nose for ten whole minutes and said ‘okay’ finally. No-one just goes to Hell like that. ‘Waganuk did’, corrected Biggina, but didn’t comment any further.

Life went on where we lived. Since Waganuk, ten more people went to Hell on their own accord. A much recovered Muchopick thought that, Waganuk was probably using his sales tactics on the poor folks living here. He had always been a bit of a charmer. But we never really knew. Those who remained, busied themselves with catching moose, and many died in the process. Retopick said those who died also went to Hell, so a month later, moose-hunting was banned. Everyone died of starvation in the next forty days, and here I am….the only one left to tell you this story. I’ll get back to you if I am alive, or have anything more to say about the nothingness that surrounds me. So long.