Johnny America

 

How Man Came to Know that the Mer­illes Fish was Poi­so­nous and Inedible

by

One morn­ing in the sum­mer of a year be­fore years were count­ed, two naked sav­ages with brown leath­ery skin wad­ed out far in­to the cold wa­ters that stretched away to Hed­vana, the land of the dead and un­born spir­its. Armed with long spears poised high above their heads they scoured the glassy wa­ters for food. One of the sav­ages who was called Bu tè flung his spear at a blue fish with yel­low spots, im­pal­ing it. Bu tè re­trieved his spear, raised it and ex­am­ined the bright blue and yel­low crea­ture on the end of it. This was a fish that no man had ever seen be­fore and Bu tè’s heart be­came full; he rushed back to the beach at once, splash­ing and flail­ing. The oth­er sav­age, who was called Bu yà, no­ticed this un­usu­al be­hav­ior by his friend and so came ashore to see what the mat­ter was.

At the beach Bu tè had al­ready gut­ted and splayed the fish, and was now mak­ing an obei­sance over it. Bu yà be­held the fish be­fore Bu tè and was awe struck by its bright­ness. He took his seat next to Bu tè and al­so be­gan mak­ing an obei­sance. Bu tè looked at his friend and made a grave ex­pres­sion. He then made gut­tur­al nois­es in his throat, which was the lan­guage of the sav­ages. What Bu tè said to Bu yà was:

“You can’t have any.”

“What do you mean,” asked Bu yà, not a lit­tle of­fend­ed. “There is enough for both of us. We are great friends you and I. We share everything.”

“I’m sor­ry Bu yà, but this fish I can­not share with you be­cause it is a gift from Hevis, the la­dy of Hed­vana and it was sent to me. If you were meant to have some, Hevis would have sent you your own Mer­illes fish.” At this Bu yà be­came sus­pi­cious, won­der­ing how Bu tè knew that the name of this fish was Mer­illes, which in the sav­ages’ gut­tur­al tongue meant “mag­ic fish for a great warrior.”

Bu tè be­gan to de­vour the Mer­illes fish while Bu yà watched jeal­ous­ly. When Bu tè had gorged him­self he lay back on the sand, his lips shiny from the tetro­dox­in-con­tain­ing oil of the Mer­illes which is se­cret­ed in it’s ovaries, eggs, blood, liv­er, in­testines and to a less­er ex­tent, skin. Bu tè be­gan to moan and mum­ble in ways not even Bu yà un­der­stood. Bu yà jumped to his feet be­liev­ing that Bu tè was hav­ing a di­vine vision.

“What do you see!?” Bu yà hollered. Bu tè looked up at Bu yà with blood red eyes that rolled back in­to his head as he vom­it­ed and soiled him­self many many times. When there was noth­ing left in­side his stom­ach he was left heav­ing and con­vuls­ing on the sand. For about twen­ty min­utes Bu yà sat next to his friend and watched in­tent­ly as the trem­blings of his body and the rise and fall of his chest grew less and less un­til at last he be­came still. Bu yà, up­on ex­am­in­ing the body of his friend, at this time, found him to be with­out spirit.

“Tru­ly,” Bu yà thought “this was a fish sent by Hevis to bring Bu tè back to Hed­vana. In­deed, Bu tè must have been the great­est war­rior in the life of the land.”

Bu yà gave a great trib­ute to the body of Bu tè  — he built an al­tar and a pyre on the beach and bid him good speed on his jour­ney to Hed­vana and then re­turned alone to his vil­lage. Bu yà re­lat­ed with great pomp and cir­cum­stance the sto­ry of Bu tè and the Mer­illes fish. His sto­ry be­came known to all peo­ple for many miles around who al­ways did two things there­after: they ex­alt­ed the mem­o­ry of the great war­rior Bu tè, and were wary of the Mer­illes fish and knew not to eat of it, lest they should be car­ried away to Hedvana.

One morn­ing in the sum­mer of a year be­fore years were count­ed, two naked sav­ages with brown leath­ery skin wad­ed out far in­to the cold wa­ters that stretched away to Hed­vana, the land of the dead and un­born spir­its. Armed with long spears poised high above their heads they scoured the glassy wa­ters for food. One of the sav­ages who was called Bu tè flung his spear at a blue fish with yel­low spots, im­pal­ing it. Bu tè re­trieved his spear, raised it and ex­am­ined the bright blue and yel­low crea­ture on the end of it. This was a fish that no man had ever seen be­fore and Bu tè’s heart be­came full; he rushed back to the beach at once, splash­ing and flail­ing. The oth­er sav­age, who was called Bu yà, no­ticed this un­usu­al be­hav­ior by his friend and so came ashore to see what the mat­ter was.

At the beach Bu tè had al­ready gut­ted and splayed the fish, and was now mak­ing an obei­sance over it. Bu yà be­held the fish be­fore Bu tè and was awe struck by its bright­ness. He took his seat next to Bu tè and al­so be­gan mak­ing an obei­sance. Bu tè looked at his friend and made a grave ex­pres­sion. He then made gut­tur­al nois­es in his throat, which was the lan­guage of the sav­ages. What Bu tè said to Bu yà was:

“You can’t have any.”

“What do you mean,” asked Bu yà, not a lit­tle of­fend­ed. “There is enough for both of us. We are great friends you and I. We share everything.”

“I’m sor­ry Bu yà, but this fish I can­not share with you be­cause it is a gift from Hevis, the la­dy of Hed­vana and it was sent to me. If you were meant to have some, Hevis would have sent you your own Mer­illes fish.” At this Bu yà be­came sus­pi­cious, won­der­ing how Bu tè knew that the name of this fish was Mer­illes, which in the sav­ages’ gut­tur­al tongue meant “mag­ic fish for a great warrior.”

Bu tè be­gan to de­vour the Mer­illes fish while Bu yà watched jeal­ous­ly. When Bu tè had gorged him­self he lay back on the sand, his lips shiny from the tetro­dox­in-con­tain­ing oil of the Mer­illes which is se­cret­ed in it’s ovaries, eggs, blood, liv­er, in­testines and to a less­er ex­tent, skin. Bu tè be­gan to moan and mum­ble in ways not even Bu yà un­der­stood. Bu yà jumped to his feet be­liev­ing that Bu tè was hav­ing a di­vine vision.

“What do you see!?” Bu yà hollered. Bu tè looked up at Bu yà with blood red eyes that rolled back in­to his head as he vom­it­ed and soiled him­self many many times. When there was noth­ing left in­side his stom­ach he was left heav­ing and con­vuls­ing on the sand. For about twen­ty min­utes Bu yà sat next to his friend and watched in­tent­ly as the trem­blings of his body and the rise and fall of his chest grew less and less un­til at last he be­came still. Bu yà, up­on ex­am­in­ing the body of his friend, at this time, found him to be with­out spirit.

“Tru­ly,” Bu yà thought “this was a fish sent by Hevis to bring Bu tè back to Hed­vana. In­deed, Bu tè must have been the great­est war­rior in the life of the land.”

Bu yà gave a great trib­ute to the body of Bu tè —he built an al­tar and a pyre on the beach and bid him good speed on his jour­ney to Hed­vana and then re­turned alone to his vil­lage. Bu yà re­lat­ed with great pomp and cir­cum­stance the sto­ry of Bu tè and the Mer­illes fish. His sto­ry be­came known to all peo­ple for many miles around who al­ways did two things there­after: they ex­alt­ed the mem­o­ry of the great war­rior Bu tè, and were wary of the Mer­illes fish and knew not to eat of it, lest they should be car­ried away to Hedvana.

he built an al­tar and a pyre on the beach and bid him good speed on his jour­ney to Hed­vana and then re­turned alone to his vil­lage. Bu yà re­lat­ed with great pomp and cir­cum­stance the sto­ry of Bu tè and the Mer­illes fish. His sto­ry be­came known to all peo­ple for many miles around who al­ways did two things there­after: they ex­alt­ed the mem­o­ry of the great war­rior Bu tè, and were wary of the Mer­illes fish and knew not to eat of it, lest they should be car­ried away to Hedvana.

Filed under Fiction on April 9th, 2006

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