By the year 1981, The Orphan had been an avid skier for fifteen years.
This was the time of a favorite ski adventure in The Orphan’s life, skiing the Matterhorn in Switzerland with John Robert Bell who was accompanied by his guise of the animated amorous Pepe Le Pew.
At this time The Orphan was a mature Boeing Engine Manager -- with Shoes and with Suits -- and in a stage between wives. As such he was much sought after. Two of his three children had already left home and The Orphan’s Mother and Father were on an eight-year extended visit to care for Youngest
Daughter’s welfare when The Orphan was at work or traveling, so the Orphan could go mostly where and when he wished.
Always searching for ski buddies, The Orphan had enticed his friend John Bell into “…learning to ski…” The Orphan took The Bell skiing five or six times a week – paying little heed to the complaining, whimpering, mewling and whining as to Bell’s fears and trepidations. Once it was so bad that The Real
“…Orphan, see why you are an orphan. If you break The Bell -- as the Liberty Bell was broken -- he will be flawed and of little use to us. You should use more care and compassion and have sympathy in spite of his complaining,
whimpering, mewling and whining…”The Orphan replied,
“…Hey, Ace, I know why I am an orphan. It is because you are a wussy, craven coward who hides while The Orphan takes the heat. The Bell will not crack. Delicious Diane, Beth the Butt and Straying Jessie – as well as a plethora
of false starts - have tempered him to a hardness that is also ductile. If he needs it, The Bell well knows where to find sympathy in Webster’s New World Dictionary. This training is good for him and besides, it is what I want to do…and if he dies, he dies…”
After a fashion, The Bell did learn to ski. Being The Bell, he promptly bought three pairs of skis and bindings – one stiff pair for ski racing, one medium pair for Olympic giant slalom skiing and one soft pair for his real capabilities. The Bell was very thorough.
Later, The Bell said, from the confidence of his nearly one year of nearly continuous skiing in the wet snow lowlands of the mountains of The Great Pacific Northwest under the tutelage of The Orphan,
“…Fraze, let’s go and ski the Matterhorn in the land called Switzerland…”
The Orphan bravely but innocently said,
“…OK, why not…?”
The expectant but foolish duo, after a business trip for The Mighty Boeing to London and Derby, England, and encumbered with huge piles of ski equipment, flew to Switzerland where the duo “…deplaned….” in Geneva.
In Switzerland the written and spoken tongues were unknown to The Orphan and The Bell. The Orphan suspected that the Swiss knew the American tongue but like the rule taught to The Orphan by Cary Trimble in his Early Adventures, they were “…born and nurtured as assholes and had remained assholes all their lives…”
Also, as with Cary Trimble, the Swiss assholeness appeared to be a natural talent, practiced by all Swiss.
The duo, therefore, had to guess which train to ride. Geneva was on the southwest shore of Lake Geneva and Zermatt was beyond Lake Geneva to the east, a far clockwise distance from Geneva. The theory was to go right and to keep the water close by.
Many trains went left, but each time the water was lost. The duo then would de-train and go right –always toward the water of Lake Geneva. Several times the duo de-trained and again went right, always closer to the water. There seemed to be a lot of water in Switzerland.
The Orphan, bravely holding back tears and panic, but always alert, observed a young and confident appearing British-type female person who had consistently boarded and de-boarded when the duo boarded and de-boarded.
The Orphan overcame his crushing shyness, approached the lady and said,
“…Hi, my name is Granny (it appeared better to not disclose, at that time, that The Orphan was an orphan, since he did not yet know her well) and I am lost and fearful and am looking for the Matterhorn which is in Zermatt…”
The lady said,
“…Hello, my name is Gillian Rawles and I am Chamberlain to Prince Charles of England and before my arduous task of getting him married in July to a Lady named Diana, I am taking a holiday in Zermatt and I will help you…”
The Orphan was much relieved.
The Bell, when erotically – or otherwise – aroused, mightily resembled a well known animated amorous skunk named Pepe Le Pew. Oblivious to and unconcerned with the Orphan’s former terror, Le Pew fixed his best limpid look on The Gillian and said,
“…Hi, I’m John Bell…” -- the name used by The Bell (but not by his Mother who called him JR) when he was concealing Pepe Le Pew.
The duo, now a trio guided by the redoubtable Gillian, soon arrived at the lowest part of the place called Zermatt and were transported by a magic cog-railway to the highest part of the place called Zermatt.
At Zermatt, the innocent Orphan, Pepe Le Pew and the young but knowledgeable Gillian (in her guise of the soft Jilly) were met with the following greeting from a gnome at the Zermatt Information Center (whose job it was to find ways It Cannot Be Done):
“…You want a room but you have no reservations it cannot be done the cog railway is closed for the night you must leave maybe there are rooms in Geneva …” The Orphan was again strongly reminded of the Cary Trimble rule.
To the great relief of The Orphan, a throng of revelers of great intensity and with a great head start greeted The Jilly. Her guide job done, The Jilly disappeared into the throng of revelers. Fortunately, among these revelers was The Delectable Penny, a confection of great
everything. In an instant she saw beneath the brave demeanor of The Orphan his trembling lips. She said,
” …I know, Little Orphan, I am Penny and I will now be the one to help you…”
The Bell had already forgotten Jilly. Without the aid of phone booth or other cover he metamorphosed into his guise of Pepe Le Pew at his limpid-eyed best, and, in a championship point with everything pointable, projected,
“…I am in love…” (a not uncommon state for either Le Pew or The Bell)
The Penny observed,
”…What a cute Pew. Pew, you stand staunchly by your skis and luggage and I will take The Orphan in a magical sleigh (which was powered by an animal with a faulty exhaust system) to a bed place…”
As they departed, they heard the fading cries of the Pew,
“…Me, me, me, what about me…?”
The Penny and The Orphan arrived at the closest place to the white spire called The Matterhorn, at a palace which was also an Inn. There they encountered another relative of the It Cannot Be Done clan. Penny said,
“…We want a room…”
The alarmed Orphan stammered,
“…But where will the Bell sleep…?”
The Penny, with crinkled eyes and nose and a Mona Lisa wise, slight smile, enigmatically but knowledgeably said,
“…Little Orphan, you sweet, innocent, silly boy, you are in the thrall of another woman and I am also captured and in the thrall of another man -- though I am also passionate. You, of course, will sleep with the cooling Pew…”
The Innkeeper of the It Cannot Be Done clan, anxious to ply his trade of finding ways to say no, suddenly was bathed in the radiant glow of The Penny’s eyes and stammered,
“…We have but one room for only one night and we fear that the Americans (a description delivered without the love that The Orphan was accustomed to) will not abandon the room at the appointed time…”
The Penny said,
“…Innkeeper, the duo are in my care and will move from room to room as the Inn places them…” The Penny turned to The Orphan and said,
“…Luv (a term of closeness now used to guide the virtuous Orphan), give the Innkeeper money and the room will be yours. Now we must go because The Pew will be cooling…”
The unimpressed, surly and very cold Bell (now resembling a Bluebell), on seeing the triumphant return of The Orphan and The Penny, expostulated,
“…Geez, Fraze, you asshole, I thought you had left me to die. I am freezing my ass off…”
It was a figure of speech because the Bell’s ass was still there and, at the moment, was occupying a significantly larger part of his being. On seeing again The Delicious Confection Penny, The Bell instantly, with elevated temperature and other things, transformed into The Pew and said,
“…Hi, you saved my life (his limpid eyes said The Pew was still in heated love.)…”
The Orphan and The Bell were dispatched by magic sleigh (powered by the exhaust defective animal which was also often losing palpable pieces) and were delivered to the Inn of the surly keeper of many methods of saying no, who after being reminded of The Penny, grudgingly gave the duo two keys to a cell
which was immediately used for coma-like sleep.
In the morning, The Bell awakened The Orphan with the raucous exclamation,
Groggy and staggering, The Orphan stumbled to the window and was astounded by the whole of the Matterhorn framed as a marvelous white portrait.
The Orphan said,
“…Let’s go skiing…!”
Donning their ski armor, the duo sought and found yet a higher geared cog transportation device, and armed with a map the size of a small postage stamp of all of Switzerland which also contained a description of Run 9 of the Zermatt ski area, left the transportation device and surrendered themselves to
the capricious whims of Matterhorn slopes and Swiss gravity.
It was a glorious run in brilliant sunlight under blue Swiss skies.
While the duo were readying themselves for yet another run, Le Pew emerged and spotted a ski jumpsuit amazingly formed and containing a plethora of very feminine pulchritude named Irene who was standing in a very hip-shot stance looking forlorn and lost.
Instantly The Pew was in control (no vestige of The Bell was visible), and said,
“…Hi, are you lost? If so, we will aid you and maybe other things…”
The Irene said prettily (her only real choice) from a set of delectable but only sixteen-year-old lips and in a sweet Austrian slight lisp using a voice designed for music,
“…I am all alone and I cannot find my chalet…”
The Pew was transfixed and focused, but speechless. The Orphan said,
“…I am Granny (The Orphan does not readily disclose his true identity) and I have a map and I will help you. I believe your chalet will be down (this had to be a valid conclusion since up contained only the Matterhorn)…”
The Pew, regaining his suave and debonair presence (it was magic that his ski bonnet now resembled a beret), said,
“…We must take the Short Rapid Way so that The Irene can be relieved of her fears and any other things that need to be relieved, so lead on, Fraze…”
Departing from Run 9 for a quicker way down (a decision that immediately became irrevocable), the (now) trio came upon a place of many and randomly placed smaller (but not much) Matterhorns called moguls. In his short year of skiing, neither The Bell nor The Pew had skied more than
one mogul (and it was not full grown).
The Irene, with many effortless twitches of her nether parts (fascinating to view and confirming many of The Pew’s surmises) zipped through the field of moguls with all of her other parts in formation -- in general. The Little Orphan Granny (brave but now filled with concentrated trepidation) also
twitched through the field of moguls but with considerably more effort and much less grace than that of The Irene.
While The Orphan and The Irene awaited the unseen Bell at the bottom of the slope of moguls, they heard a fearsome sound like unto the violent disassembling of all manner of ski equipment, along with expostulations of a fascinating mix of terror and rage.
Quiet returned. Fearfully The Orphan called out,
“…Bell, what happened and are you all right…?” (The Orphan was a very caring person.)
From deep within the field of moguls came a response,
“…I fell on my ass and lost all of my skis and poles and hell no I am not all right, you asshole…”
The Bell appeared also to have departed from his equanimity. The Irene innocently observed,
“…Swiss moguls must be more fierce than American moguls…”
The Orphan could only nod thoughtfully while thinking this day might be very long. The disassembling processes repeated themselves numerous times until two skis and two ski poles appeared in the air, obviously hurled with Olympian vigor. The Bell then appeared, and with a beet red face, screamed the
now immortal words,
“…FRAZE! FRAZE! I AM NOT HAVING ANY FUN AT ALL…!!”
After soothing The Bell (The Pew was now nowhere to be seen) and helping The Bell (in a mood remarkably similar to his Bluebell mood after guarding the luggage in the cold) to regain his ski armor and everything but his equanimity, The Orphan (in a cautiously optimistic mood - a grave mistake) and The
Irene resumed the plan to continue rapidly down.
The trail was sufficiently wide to accommodate only parallel skiing and as it became ever steeper, one side became a ledge (a precipitous thousand or more feet of drop). The Orphan, while setting a new world record for breathless concentration, saw in the distance a sign stating “Trail Narrows.”
At this time, The Orphan was inwardly in a state of terror that was shaving at least several years of life away and which completed instantly nature’s plan for the snow white hair The Orphan would need in the future for his guise as Merlin.
The Bell flew by the sign screaming,
“…Trail Narrows -- TRAIL NARROWS! How can you narrow something with no width…?”
The Orphan was busy with his own terror.
After skiing on the right ski with the left ski bumping high up the slope for what seemed an eternity, The Orphan burst into a copse of trees so thick they blocked the sky. Underneath the trees, the fresh snow was lightly dusted with evergreen needles and small branches – but with no ski tracks except
those made by the skis of The Orphan, The Bell and The Irene.
The trio then traversed this docile place and the duo regained their composure. Pepe Le Pew re-emerged from the depths of the surly Bell and began to savor the expected appreciation from The Irene. He poised himself to focus his attention on The Irene with applications of various flavorings of
ethanol, with dancing close, and hopefully with other things.
The Irene interrupted the erotic musings of Pepe Le Pew by suddenly exclaiming,
“…Oh! There is my train and it will take me to my chalet and thank you and good bye…”
The Bell and The Orphan were very tired and very philosophical and besides she was so young. But she did have nice fundamentals and other things.
The duo, exhausted by their perilous ski journey down the Matterhorn’s narrow trail, nevertheless began a plodding ski motion in soft snow to return to the Inn. It was a far distance. The Orphan and Bell (Pepe Le Pew was now deflated) fortunately found another vehicle powered by yet another animal
with a faulty exhaust system.
After lingering hot baths, that night The Bell and The Orphan dined in Zermatt at The Old Spaghetti Factory and drank a wine named Chateauneuf de Pape.
The next day the duo again skied Run 9 but with no distractions and no Short Rapid Way down.
That night the revelers, led by The Delectable Penny (The Gillian was now gazing deeply into the eyes of a Beatles-haircut Englishman) rounded up The Bell and The Orphan and took them to a party. This group knew how to party – as did the duo.
Next morning the tired duo retraced the original train ride counterclockwise, boarded an airplane for London, and flew back to the wet snow lowlands of the mountains of The Great Pacific Northwest.