"Curse" Is Spelled S-C-A-M

"Why on garma would a raccoon take a fish up a tree?" Ablam Glang was talking to himself, something he'd been told he did too often. In his opinion, most other people spent too much time telling him he talked to himself too much. They could be telling him something important, or asking him over to dinner, or something else useful.

Ablam had never seen this before; he knew raccoons could climb but had never seen one take a freshly caught fish along with them. He thought the creature likely wanted to find a nice, comfy spot in the tree to have its lunch. The raccoon had its own plans though, and climbed back down the tree--head first, of course--and trundled off into the undergrowth.

"Gliffer's going to tell me that's a bad omen," he said to himself. "That's a bad omen, Ablam, really bad," he said, imitating Gliff's somewhat nasal voice.

Ablam had no use for omens, signs, portents, or any other ideas about an event in the now being linked to an event in the future with which it had no connection. Ablam's self-dialog was, admittedly, somewhat less sophisticated than that; what he actually thought was "Raccoon, fish or no, has got nothin' to do with anythin' other than what it has for dinner."

When he got back to the village, he sought out Gliffer Junning in his barber shop. 

"Ablam," said Gliffer, stropping a razor for no apparent reason: the shop was empty. He tested it on the back of his extravagantly hairy arm, cut himself (as he usually did), growled "Sarn it", and grabbed a towel. 

Ablam reminded himself to never ask Gliffer for a shave, then said, "Never guess what I saw."

"Sennell Plinty, wearing a hat with a fox head on it?" guessed Gliff. He'd just seen this himself, or thought he'd seen it; it was so odd he was hoping for some kind of verification.

"Don't be stupid," said Ablam. Fat chance, he thought. "Saw a raccoon bring a fish up a tree, then come right back down."

Gliff's head snapped up and his eyes widened. "You're sure it was a fish?"

"Yep."

"And you're sure it was a raccoon?"

Ablam rolled his eyes. "Yep."

"That's a bad omen, Ablam, really bad." 

Nailed it, thought Ablam. "You don't really believe that, do you? Silliness is what that is."

Gliff looked offended. "Ablam, everyone in the Village o' Wood knows that. Remember what happened to Sturg Lixen? He saw a raccoon take a fish, or he thought it was a fish anyway, an animal he thought was a raccoon had what he thought was a fish, that's what he thought, wasn't sure I'll admit, anyway, saw the raccoon or whatever take the fish or whatever up a tree and come back down, and then what?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Two days later he fell off his roof and broke his hip."

Ablam rolled his eyes again. "Sturg was drunk, and got up on his steep roof during a hail storm." He didn't bother with an additional pertinent detail: Sturg Lixen was 82 and had terrible balance. He sometimes tipped over for no reason at all. People were forever standing him back up and dusting him off. In Ablam's mind, intoxication plus bad balance plus hail storm all coming together on a steep roof pretty much added up to a recipe for falling off.

Something stirred in Ablam, something from his teenage years, something mischievous, and he let it stir until it was fully mixed and ready to come out. He was no stranger to mischief, and he realized he hadn't been mischievous in far too long. 

"And you've got the story wrong," he said, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Sturg isn't the one who saw the supposed raccoon with the alleged fish. His brother Strag thought he saw something, maybe involving a fish, a raccoon, and a tree, and told Sturg about it." He paused for a long, mischievous moment while Gliff processed this. He could tell Gliff was ready for the rest when his face had fallen halfway between excitement and dread.

"So, Gliff, if there's anything to this curse...well, I'm sorry now I told you. Shoulda kept it to myself." He lowered his eyes and shuffled his feet sheepishly to round out the act. After a moment he flicked his eyes back to Gliff to see if things had taken hold.

Gliff's face was by then in full dread mode. "Sarn it all, Ablam, what in Gluff's name'd you tell me for?" He looked at the razor in his hand and flicked it carelessly onto the counter, staring at it as if he'd just found himself firmly ahold of a viper. He looked wildly around while practically ripping off his barber smock. "What should I do?" He glared at Ablam. "Why'm I asking you? This is your fault, you mangy cur."

"Now hold on, Gliff. There may be something you can do." Ablam's mind raced, trying to find a bridge to the next bit of mischief. He was, in truth, a bit worried about Gliff's response; he didn't want Gliff to starve to death in his basement trying to avoid the curse. Ablam thought this a distinct possibility.

"It's coming back to me now," he said slowly and contemplatively. “OK, OK, remember the rhyme?" Ablam's mind could sometimes work astonishingly quickly; he had most of what he needed, but needed another moment.

"What rhyme? What're you on about?" Gliff still looked panicky.

"The rhyme about the curse, nitwit." Ablam felt a bit badly about the "nitwit" part, but Gliff had just called him a "mangy cur" so... "Let me think a minute." 

After a tense moment, he spoke solemnly, struggling to keep a straight face.

.

"If a critter you should see

Bring a fishy up a tree

And carelessly you tell a friend

There is but one way to defend

Against this vile curse you've freed

Harken now and listen thee! (Ablam gave a flourish to try to imply the exclamation point, of course)

If thy friend a favor renders

Then the curse the favor enders."

He wasn't happy with "enders" but felt good about his creation otherwise.

"What'n Gluff's name does that mean?" Gliff looked so tense that Ablam wondered if he would actually rise off the floor.

"Means if you do me a favor, the curse is cancelled," Ablam said matter-of-factly. 

“OK, OK, OK. I'll... I'll... I'll give you a free shave!" Gliff bubbled.

Ablam wondered whether he turned pale. "No, Gliff, no thanks. But...a haircut?"

"Sure! Sure! Right now? Probably better be right now, get this curse cancelled and whatnot."

"Well, OK, now'd fine." Ablam was struggling to keep the grin off his face. 

Gliff put his smock back on as Ablam got into the chair. Gliff was reaching for his scissors when Gamker Blamley burst in, panting and sweating.

"You'll never," he puffed, "you'll never..." he paused to pant a bit. "You'll never guess what I just saw.

"SHUT UP!" Gliff and Ablam were in perfect unison, and strikingly loud.