Cruise to Nowhere Tales -- The Baker's Tale

THE BAKER'S TALE A MODERN ADAPTATION OF THE MILLER'S TALE FROM CHAUCER'S CANTERBURY TALES THE BAKER'S PROLOGUE When the soldier's tale was finally told, All the company, both young and old, Praised it for its fine philosophy And held it fit to keep in memory -- All but the baker, who said the New Age crap Would drive him to a Heineken on tap, Except he had a counter-tale to tell And needed a clear head to tell it well. "Now hold on!" said our host. "Remember that We all drew lots -- it's not your turn at bat." "It's my turn," said the guru, "but I swear, I'd like to know the man's objections there. A counter-tale would seem a better fit Than one that had no argument in it. So let him tell away -- I'll take his turn -- And let us see what wisdom we can learn." "You'll get no wisdom here!" the baker said. "Just a laugh or two to take to bed. For I shall tell a tale straight from life About a New Age guru and his wife, And how a clever student had his way With both. For now I have no more to say But straight to my bold narrative will go, Rated 'R' -- just so you will know." Said the host, "There are no children here, But some there may be present who'd not care To hear your bit of soft pornography Nor think so humorous adultery." "God forbid," the baker said, "That I Should ever advocate sex on the sly. But just as soldiers well may write of those Who think each hostile thought disturbs the flows Of mystic consciousness through mental fields, And so aborts the unity love yields, So I, a baker married happily, May tell of those who transgress lustily. "I'm not an advocate for sin, but for The freedom tales give to be far more Than just one soul immersed in just one life. So may one in tales seduce the wife And joy in what one never would enjoy, As one with all the grace of life may toy, Laughing, weeping, with no consequence But pleasure in the play of words and sense. But enough of this! Let's to the tale! Our host will judge whether it succeed or fail." THE BAKER'S TALE There was a guru once who taught that love Was ecstasy, and ecstasy was love. Angels' love of God was ecstasy, And so ought love on Earth unfettered be, For one ought never own another's heart Nor be owned by another, lest love start To curdle, just like milk too long unused, Or children who too long have been abused. Love, like water, has to flow, or it Will stagnate, and before long be unfit To savor, or to bring one ecstasy, Which is the full-fledged meaning of "to be." All violence and anger, crime and sin, Arise from dammed-up energy within. So taught this guru, also known as Fats, Who wished we were as free as dogs or cats, Or horses, pigeons, elephants, or geese. Fats lived these thoughts and used them well to fleece Rich followers, who wanted an excuse To have young girls and not call it abuse, Freeing them, they said, for ecstasy, Then throwing them away conveniently. Fats also had his fill for many years Until, now old, he somehow stripped his gears And fell in love with one whom he would marry, A sixteen-year-old runaway named Carrie, Who quickly tired of the fat old man, For young girls find their pleasure where they can. Now Fats, to his surprise, became obsessed With his young wife, the first that he possessed, And jealous of each look or word or glance That might so much as hint of a romance. He longed for every morsel of her body, And with his passion nearly drove her dotty, Kissing her and touching her all day And night. He almost never was away From her for more than half an hour's time, And then, as though suspecting some great crime, Subjected her to an interrogation That ended in a desperate fornication. The thought of her in bed with other men Drove him near homicide, but then He thought of it again, and yet again, As though the highest form of love were pain. In that same complex in New Mexico There lived a student just one floor below, A Hopi Indian, who studied well The ancient arts of which the elders tell: Of visions wrought by pain and long privation, And spirits summoned by deft divination; Of holy words in languages unknown, And other secrets only years could hone. This Billy Sundown liked his women white, So soon as he discovered Carrie's plight, He began to plot with her how they Might from the old tormentor get away For long enough to share some mutual joy As comes quite naturally to girl and boy. Soon he had a plan he thought might work To get the better of that jealous jerk. He came upstairs to share philosophy And mystical accounts of energy, Meditation, mind control, and more That soon had Fats looking on with awe At this authentic scion of the ages, Heir apparent of the tribal sages, Unspoiled by civilization, the genuine thing, Who might some inspiration to Fats bring. Since he now the jealous husband played, He needed a