And Now, Um. . . This!

{It is a fine fall day. Sunny, but not too hot, a faint breeze present. You, Audience Stand-In, sit relaxing on a bench under a tree. An Elderly Woman approaches. She wears a dress that, though considerably out of fashion, is still in fine condition. Her shoes are scuffed, but in the way that suggests she has broken them in just as she pleases. Her hair is kept short and hangs down in a simple fashion, further suggesting a person who concerns themselves with what is most effective, rather than most aesthetically pleasing. Her face is weathered, red from years of exposure to the sun and wind, but still graced with a pleasant smile. She sits at the opposite end of the bench, removing a soda can from a handbag she carries. The can's top has been sheared off, and is covered with a mesh wiring, which is duct taped to the can.}

Elderly Woman: Lovely day today. Makes me glad I can still come and go as I please. {A scrabbling sound comes from within the can. You glance at it.} Don't mind that, it's just my watch-shrew. {You stare at her blankly.} Oh, perhaps you think it odd to capture a shrew in a can, then carry it with you. That's alright; most people feel that way. {She removes a chaw of tobacco from her bag, and chews on it contemplatively.} What you should realize is, this is an important tradition carried down from when the pioneers first reached this land. Of course, in those days, this was a wilderness, full of things they'd never seen before, and that included shrews the size of your head, which could gnaw your hand off in less time than it takes me to hit the spittoon.

{She spits some tobacco through a gap where a tooth likely used to be. It makes an impressive PING! in a spittoon several feet away, which you hadn't noticed previously. Perhaps the elderly woman brought it with her, you muse.}

Nasal, Cultured Voice: Quite correct. These shrews, known by the scientific name Blarina gigantonomicus, were highly common in the oak-hickory forests here prior to large-scale European settlement. They were a top predator, rightly feared for their voracious appetites, which fed their highly energetic lifestyles, typified by their high velocity attacks on prey, which could be horrifically violent. They were wiped out in the mid-19th century, as their large incisors were prized as dentistry equipment - and as torture implements for using on recalcitrant prisoners.

{You turn to see this newcomer. It is a middle-aged man, with greying hair, and noticeable muttonchop sideburns. He wears wire-rimmed glasses, with lenses so small as to seemingly be useless, and may in fact merely be for show. He walks with an stiff-backed stride, but keeps listing from one side to another, as if trying to approximate a sauntering pace. It merely serves to make him look tipsy, a thought which wars with his immaculate wardrobe. Not a stray thread showing, not a speck of dust or pollen, even while walking through a field. His shoes are buffed to a high, glossy finish, and he even appears to have polished the leather patches on his tweed jacket.}

Elderly Woman: You're durn tootin they got wiped out. My great-grandmother's brother got attacked on a cold December night when he was trying to make it to the outhouse. She said they found his frozen remains scattered for a hundred yards around their property. Still, they had their uses, if you could catch them, which I was about to tell you, before this high falutin' fella here showed up.

Middle-Aged Professorial Guy: A thousand pardons madam.

Elderly Woman: Keep your pardons, and just hush, Mr. Leather Patches. So them giant shrews were trouble, but if you could catch 'em, and show 'em who wass boss, they were a powerful ally. So they used traps like what I've got here, only bigger, a 'course. Back then, they used a whiskey barrel, the cloth from their covered wagons, and duct tape to hold it together. They usually had a shack made of bricks to put the barrell in, in case the shrew escaped.

Middle-Aged Professorial Guy: Which they frequently did. Being able to bite through human bones, an often rotten wooden cask rarely posed a challenge. Did you know, in those days duct tape was referred to as "The Devil's Toolbox"? It's use was thought to symbolize a farmer or craftsman susceptible to sin. Since it enabled work to be completed more quickly, it was assumed those who used it meant to use that extra time for drinking and chasing women of ill repute. A man caught using duct tape was often drawn and quartered, tied to the horses by the very material that had enabled them to wander down this wretched path.

Elderly Woman: That's why our ancestors just used a hammer and nails to hold the cloth on the barrel.

Audience Stand-In: But, I thought, you said. . .

Elderly Woman: Now just listen. How are you going to learn a thing if you're always talking? You young people today, always chattering along like a blue jay, sayin' nothing. Like I said, if you could get those shrews on your side, they were a good ally to have. 'Course, you always had to be on guard, 'cause if they thought you weren't paying attention, they'd rip your leg off and run away. All the city folk back East thought the country folk were crazy. "Just kill the monsters, and be rid of them," they said. "They're too dangerous to be around people," they said. "Mommy, that giant rat ate my puppy!", they complained. Fools, every last one of 'em. They didn't understand how important those shrews were to have around. Leastways, not until the salamanders showed up.

Middle-Aged Professorial Guy: Plethodon corrodious, the Dissolving Salamander. They measured 1.4 meters from nose to tail, and excreted a slime from their skin which first rendered their victim stuck in place, be it to the ground, a chair, another person. Then, as the slime reacted with the air, it ate away at the victim, until they melted into a lump of decomposing organic matter. This was most commonly created by the amles, who then built the piles into nests, to entice females to lay their eggs there. When they ermeged from the Potomac River on the eve of Andrew Jackson's 1828 inaguration, they caused quite a stir all along the Atlantic Coast.

Elderly Woman: Quite a panic, you mean. They pert near wiped out Washington D.C. - and the rest of the cities. Did a better job than those Redcoats did in 1814, you can be certain of that! But Old Hickory, he knew about the shrews, and what they could do. So he sent messengers out into the hills, asking the people to bring their shrews to the aid of their country. And our ancestors did it, because they weren't about to let some slimy lizard thing destroy their country. {The Middle-Aged Professorial Guy whispers to you that salamanders are amphibians, not lizards, which are reptiles. The Elderly Woman lobs some tobaccy juice at his clean shirt, which silences him as he dives out of the way.} And oh, what a battle there was! Those shrews were tearing up the salamanders, even as the slime turned them to a shapeless blob.

Middle-Aged Professorial Guy: That, incidentally, was where oatmeal originated from. We "honored" {Middle-Aged Professorial Guy does the air quote thing with his fingers.} the bravery of those furry friends by scooping them into bowls, and eating them, sometimes plain, sometimes with a little brown sugar added, maybe a piece of fruit.

Elderly Woman: Had to be done. That battle made it into our crop fields, and destroyed a lot of 'em. People were hungry, and we had to look after the city folk who lost their homes; it was the proper thing to do. So we ate what we had. No one was going to eat those salamanders, they were servants of the Devil, everyone was just sure of it. Took a lot of years, but we rebuilt, bigger and better than ever.

Middle-Aged Professorial Guy: But the Giant Shrews were gone. What would the populace do if the salamanders returned? Rumors of Giant shrews in Mexico are what lead to the Mexican-American War, as the U.S. Army requested the Mexican government let them mount an expidition to capture some shrews, which could be brought back to the United States, and bred, to reinstate the population. The Mexican givernment claimed there were no giant shrews within their borders, a statement which the United States didn't believe. Obviously Santa Anna was witholding the shrews, to protect his country, and so it would be necessary to take some by force.

Elderly Woman: Turns out, they didn't have any shrews either, so they were just a skunked as us! {Elderly Woman cackles, then begins coughing as she nearly chokes on her chaw. You pat her on the back to help her catch her breath.} Thank you, youngin'. So there weren't no more of those hellacious shrews, so we decided to make do as best we could. Which is why some of us, those who remember, carry these little shrews. They ain't much, but they're all we have.

Middle-Aged Professorial Guy: Not entirely true. In 1900, there was a sudden increase in the fear of a return of the salamanders. This is usually attributed to Socialists trying to spread unrest amongst the workers by convincing them they would be the ones expected to fight and die if these creatures returned. Whether this is correct or not is unclear. Irregardless, Theodore Roosevelt, perhaps feeling bored by his Vice-Presidential duties, wished to commission Nikola Tesla to try and construct robotic giant shrews. The project was a complete failure, as Tesla's creations did not demonstrate the ferociousness of the organic version they were based upon. When Roosevelt was replaced by Taft, the project was decalred cancelled.

Elderly Woman: That's just nonsense. Poppycock spread by them tabloid papers. {Elderly Woman turns to you.} So, you understand why I carry this little fellow around now?

Audience Stand-In: You people are nuts! I was just sitting here, and you come up and start spouting all this insanity about giant shrews, and death salamanders, and Andrew Jackson! What's wrong with you?

Elderly Woman: You just haven't got the common sense - or courtesy - the Good Lord gave a mule. {Elderly Woman places the can back in her bag, rises slowly, and moves off, muttering something about "fool whippersnappers". She does not collect the spittoon}

Middle-Aged Professorial Guy: None are so blind, as the one who believes they can see, when they cannot. {Middle-Aged Professorial Guy makes a great show of straightening the lapels of his tweed jacket, spins on one heel, and strides off swiftly through the grass. He doesn't collect the spittoon, either.}

Audience Stand-In: What does that mean? I think someone can tell whether they can see or not! Maybe you should spend less time starching your pants, and more time working on your analogies! {You stand up quickly, and storm off angrily in a third direction, you fine mood ruined. Five minutes later, you find a cute puppy and/or kitten, and your mood is restored.}

Several hours later. . .

{The spittoon is still sitting in the middle of the field, bathed in the moonlight, untouched by any living thing.}