The last thought to penetrate Cable’s mind before he plunged into the water was this--it’s amazing how many thoughts can roll through the mind in 2.5 seconds.
The good news was, the river was indeed deep at this point, and Cable was not shattered into a million pieces on some hidden rocks. The bad news was, just as Cable had finished his descent into the water and was kicking his way up to the surface, his foot got caught.
At first, Cable puzzled over what it could be. His first, fearful instinct was that it had been caught by some ruthless underwater man-eating creature. But after a couple of seconds, he realized that his foot wasn’t being eaten; it was just stuck. While that brought some measure of relief, he nevertheless realized that drowning wasn’t really all that much better than being chewed to death. So he peered through the water in an attempt to see what was holding his foot. It seemed to be caught in a thicket of some sort. Could it be an old beaver dam? Or was it a tree that had long since sunk to the bottom, but whose branches still reached out and clutched at passers-by? The water was murky, and Cable couldn’t tell for sure. But there was one thing Cable did know: he was running out of air.
Cable doubled over and reached for his foot. He couldn’t pull it free. He kicked his leg and tried to shake it loose, but to no avail. He frantically swam left, right, up, down, trying in all directions to find an angle that could allow him to get free. But nothing worked. His lungs felt ready to burst. He longed for a breath of air. He looked up and tried to make out the surface of the water. He was overcome by despair and began to black out.
But then, from behind him, Cable felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist. He felt himself being pulled free. He kept staring at the surface of the water, hoping that it would come before he suffocated. He felt strong kicks propelling him upward, and--with the last bit of strength he had--he made himself kick as well. After what seemed like eternity, he felt fresh air pouring over him, and he inhaled. It was the sweetest air he had ever tasted. He gasped and sputtered and spit and gagged--and he was alive.
After catching his breath and clearing his eyes, Cable looked around to see if he could find his rescuer. Oddly enough, he couldn’t see him anywhere. Cable saw a clearing nearby and started to swim to the shore. Perhaps the man had already gotten out of the water. Cable resisted looking back up to the top of the cliff. The last thing in the world he wanted to see was the hooded figures.
Just as Cable was about to climb out onto shore, he felt something grab his ankle. He immediately panicked. He kicked and whirled around, fearful that he would be dragged back to the depths of the river. But as he turned, his ankle was released, and a grinning face of a man broke the surface of the water. Displaying one of the goofiest expressions that Cable had ever seen on the face of an adult, the man simply said, “Did I scare ya’?” Then the man slipped by Cable, got out of the water, reached out, and helped Cable out at well.
Cable sat on the shore and stared at the man that had saved his life. In some ways, the man looked old enough to be his great grandfather. His hair (what there was of it, anyway) was gray, and his face was wrinkly. Cable wasn’t sure if the wrinkles had been caused by old age, or just by spending too much time in the water. However, while most of the man’s face looked ancient, the man’s eyes were bright and inquisitive. And his smile carried the same kind of goofball expressions that Cable usually saw on his brother Andres’ face. In short, Cable really couldn’t tell if the man was 14 years old or 140 years old.
The man’s physique was also curious. In some ways, he moved around like an old man--very slow and deliberate, and somewhat hunched over. But when Cable looked at his upper arms, he realized that they were roughly the size of watermelons. He’d never seen such muscles on the body of a human. Who was this odd man?
The man seemed to notice Cable staring at his arms, and he immediately piped up. “Hey, are you looking at these, mate?” he asked. He then proceeded to flex his muscles. After flexing and admiring himself for a few moments, he strolled over to the edge of the river, rotating his chest back and forth as he went. He then posed some more and gazed at the reflection of his muscles in the water. He made faces as he did so, though Cable wasn’t exactly sure what a “muscular” face was supposed to look like. After that, a silly little game broke out, where the man would make a face, burst out laughing at himself, make another face, and burst out into even greater laughter. Finally, after the intriguing ritual had run it’s course, the man pointed toward the water and declared, “Now you are one muscular guy, old chap!” And then he turned back toward Cable.
“Well, fancy meeting you here!” he bellowed. He walked over to Cable and shook his hand. His grip nearly squashed Cable’s hand like a grape. Cable noticed that the man’s hands felt like tree bark; there was nothing at all smooth about them. After taking a moment to clear his head, Cable said at last, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Thanks for saving my life. Now if you don’t mind my asking, who are you?”
The man squinted and scrunched his nose. Just when Cable thought he couldn’t appear more odd, he appeared even odder. Then a smile broke out over his face, and he said, “Isn’t that something? I know you, and you don’t know me! I don’t think that’s happened before! I’m kind of famous, you see, on account of my huge muscles. Perhaps you’ve noticed them?” The man then broke out into another flexing session. Cable, who couldn’t help but shake his head, was struck by the man’s odd pronunciations. His muscles weren’t just huge; as the man described it, they were “huuuuuuuuge”.
After admiring his biceps one last time, the man turned back toward Cable and said, “Oh yes, I didn’t answer your question. My name is Jimbo. And you, of course, are Cable, son of King Maximilian. It is a pleasure to meet you, and I am at your service.” He then bowed low. As he bent to come back upright, he paused and said, “Ouch!” He then grabbed his lower back and twisted it. Cable heard some bones crackle and crunch, and then he saw Jimbo straighten up. “Cursed old back,” he mumbled. “It’s as old as I am. Oh well, can’t be helped. Please come with me.” He motioned to Cable, and Cable followed him into the woods.
As the two figures trudged through the heavy growth of the dense forest, Jimbo turned around and asked, “Hey, mate, I’ve got a question for you. I know you’re a prince and everything, and you probably like to just be called by your name. But do you mind if I just call you ‘Herc’?”
“Where did that name come from?” replied a puzzled Cable.
“Well, it’s short for ‘Hercules’--you know, the muscle-ish Greek guy,” said Jimbo. “Your muscles...well, they kind of make me think of Hercules. And to be honest, it’s a bit easier to remember nicknames than it is to remember real names. Especially in times of danger, when I don’t have a whole lot of time to think of proper names.” The last two words were pronounced with a sort of dignified sarcasm (or perhaps it was sarcastic dignity).
Cable pondered this as he walked along. He gazed at his own biceps and triceps, and--after staring at them for a few moments--he thought he noticed a few ripples and bulges that might indeed faintly resemble those of a Greek god. So he said, “Sure, you can call me ‘Herc’. My father used to call me ‘Little Buddy’ for a long time, so I guess it’s kind of good to get a more grown-up version of a nickname.”
“It’s settled then, Herc,” replied Jimbo. “Follow me, and I’ll show you my castle.” And the two continued to traipse their way through the forest.
As dense as the woods were, Cable was amazed that they seemed to actually be walking on a bit of a path. It wasn’t a broad path, nor was it particularly straight, and branches continually slashed through the air and slapped him in the face. But the faintly-designated trail allowed them to move much more swiftly than they would have otherwise been able to. After a few minutes passed, Jimbo started to sing to himself. Soon the air was astir with the following bit of doggerel, bellowed out from the lungs of curious Jimbo:
Oh Rachel, you’re my girl.
I’d love to hold ye and give ye a twirl.
You make my heart go pitter-patter.
For you, I’d climb the highest ladder.
I’d climb to the top of the tallest steeple.
And shout, “I love Rachel!” to all of the people.
It didn’t take Cable long to realize that Jimbo would never be a professional minstrel. The tune was different each time he sang it, and the notes just didn’t seem to go together. He’d periodically raise his voice as high as he could, and then he’d sing like a girl for a moment, and then--at the end of each cycle through the song--he ended on the lowest note he could reach. And after saying the word “people”, Jimbo would blow a kiss and say, “That’s for you, girl.”
After he’d sung this peculiar verse three or four times, Cable felt compelled to interrupt. “Hey, Mr. Jimbo, uh...” Cable paused for a moment, enjoying the silence and the temporary reprieve from Jimbo's cacophonous onslaught. After he felt he'd milked the silence for as long as he could, he continued, “Say, who is Rachel, anyway? She's obviously very special to you. I mean, that’s really quite a song that you just finished singing.”
Jimbo turned and grinned. “Oh, ye liked it, eh?” he asked. “Well, you know, everyone that has heard it has said that! Of course, I don’t believe any other human has actually heard that particular song, which is a shame, since it's so beautiful.” (He actually pronounced it as “byoooooooo-teee-fullll. The ever-perceptive Cable noticed that Jimbo had a habit of dragging out the words that we wanted to emphasize.) Then Jimbo started to break out in song once again. In desperation, Cable piped up once more, “Please, Mr. Jimbo, tell me more about Rachel. Who is she?”
“Why, she's me girl, mate. What did ye think she was, an octopus?”
Cable shook his head. “No, I didn't think she was an octopus. So tell me, what does she look like?”
“Well, she's kind of short, to be honest with you. I'm not really crazy about tall (pronounced 'tawllllllll') ladies, since I'm not exactly a giant meself. And she's got long, dark hair that kind of descends off her perfect head like an auburn waterfall.” Then, speaking more to himself, Jimbo said, “Wow, that's kind of poetic, eh? An auburn waterfall. Wow, Jimbo, you are one clever guy.” Turning his attention back to Cable, he continued. “And she has a smile (pronounced ‘smmm-eye-uhllllll’) that stretches from one gorgeous ear to the other. And when she laughs, the whole southern forest can't contain the joyous sound. She really is the most wonderful creature I've ever known, and—as you might have guessed—I've known quite a few creatures in my lifetime.”
“How long have you known her?” Cable asked, looking for any way possible to extend this retreat from Jimbo's singing.
Jimbo paused and mumbled to himself. “Hmmm...I'm not sure, exactly how long. I'd estimate about four years or so, maybe, give or take a few months.”
“Are you married?”
“Not exactly, mate. But that's the plan.”
“Where does she live?”
“Well, that's a good question. I don't exactly know.”
Cable was puzzled. How could a man be so crazy about a girl when he didn’t even know where she lived? As he scratched his head, he bumped into a low-lying branch and fell to the ground. He quickly scrambled back to his feet and caught back up with the oblivious Jimbo. It was awfully easy to get lost in these dense woods, and Cable didn’t dare lose sight of his guide. Just as Jimbo broke out into another song, Cable asked, “Uh, Jimbo, how did you and Rachel meet?”
“That’s the one problem, Herc,” Jimbo replied. “I haven’t met her yet. I’ve been dreaming (‘dreeeeeaaaammmminggggg’) about her for many years, but our paths just haven’t crossed yet. It’s a pity, really. But I’ll tell you this much, old buddy. When I do meet her at last, I’m going to get down on me knees and ask her to marry me, right on the spot. I’ve been patiently waiting for years (‘yeeeeaaars’), and I just don’t think I’d be able to hold out for too much longer.”
After a pause, Jimbo glanced at his bulging biceps and added, “Besides, I’m pretty irresistible, if I do say so meself. I really don’t think she’ll take too much persuasion.”
Cable shook his head in utter bewilderment. In all 14 years of his existence, he couldn’t recall ever meeting anyone quite as odd as Jimbo. Eager to change the subject, Cable asked, “Did you make this trail that we’re on? It must be pretty difficult to carve out a trail in these woods. I don’t even know how you could tell where you were going.”
Jimbo piped up once again. “Well, it’s funny you should ask, mate. You see, these here trail was discovered and made by me pet wild boar.”
Somewhat mystified, Cable asked, “Is that even possible? If he’s wild, how could he be a pet? And if he’s a pet, how can he be wild?”
“It might not be possible for most people, Herc,” Jimbo replied, “but it’s possible for me. That’s all I can say about that. But anyway, let me tell you about my pride and joy, my pet wild boar. Next to Rachel, I love (‘looooooovvvvvve’) him more than any other creature in the whole world. You see, he’s really smart. When I made me little home in the woods, I was a bit lost, and more than a bit thirsty. So I told him to go find some water. Well, he went barreling out into the woods, and about 15 minutes later, he comes back all soaking wet. Being a pretty perceptive man meself, I said to meself, ‘Self, that boar must have found water, else he wouldn’t be wet.’ So then I said, ‘Could you take me to the water?’ And by gum, he did. So from that point on, whenever I’d want to go somewhere, I’d just sit on me fanny and tell the boar to make a trail. And that’s what he’d do.”
Cable could only shake his head at this revelation. As he looked up, he noticed that Jimbo seemed to be wiping his eyes. He then heard Jimbo say, in a voice that cracked with emotion, “And that’s why I get a little choked up whenever I think of my dear pet Doofus.”
Cable waited for Jimbo to compose himself. After it seemed like his curious companion had recovered, he asked, “If he’s so doggone clever, why did you call him ‘Doofus’?”
“I called him Doofus because he was so doggone clever,” Jimbo replied. “It’s a lot easier for me to remember if I use some sort of opposite name. If I called him ‘Genius’, well, I’d never remember that. Besides, people would make fun of me if I called a pet wild boar ‘Genius’. So I named him ‘Doofus’, and now everybody is happy. Get it?”
Cable pondered this for a moment. This revelation troubled him greatly. When he could stand it no longer, he asked, “So why did you call me ‘Herc’?”
“Look mate,” answered Jimbo, flexing his arms. “When you’ve got pipes like me, maybe I’ll start calling you ‘Slim’ or something like that. But hey, you’re young yet, mate! You’ve got lots of growing to do. And besides, cheer up! We’re almost home.”
The two travelers emerged from the dense woods into a small clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a teepee. It stood about 20 feet tall and was about 10 feet in diameter. It appeared to be covered with a patchwork of dried animal skins. “This is me castle!” Jimbo declared emphatically. As Cable approached the teepee, he saw a hand-painted sign that hung over the front opening. In bold black letters it read:
HOAM SWEAT HOAM
Cable shook his head and chuckled to himself. This strange man might be a master woodsman, but clearly spelling was not his thing. But before he chuckle too much, he heard a loud cracking noise from off to his right. Seconds later, a large wild boar came charging straight toward them from out of the woods. Cable (who had a mind for numbers) figured he was over two feet tall and had to weigh about 500 pounds. The boar then hurtled through the air toward Jimbo, knocking the muscular man off his feet and onto the ground. As Cable looked, he was amazed to see the boar rubbing his snout all over Jimbo’s face. And Jimbo wiggled and giggled and laughed and said, “Easy there, Doofus. Yes, Daddy is sorry he’s been away so long. Good boy! Wanna treat?”
Doofus immediately rolled off of Jimbo and sat on his haunches. Jimbo disappeared into the teepee. Doofus cast a skeptical eye on Cable and growled softly. Cable felt nervous, but Jimbo bellowed from inside the teepee, “Leave ‘im alone, Doofus. He’s a friend, and let’s face it, old boy--you need as many friends as you can get. You’re pretty ugly, you know.” Doofus quieted down, but still eyed Cable with suspicion. Finally, Jimbo came out with a piece of dried meat in his hand. Tossing it toward the woodline, he said, “Go get it, Doofus! And give me and my guest some time to chat.” Doofus ran off to collect his prize.
Jimbo turned to Cable and whispered, “To tell you the truth, he’s smart, but I wouldn’t exactly call him a full-fledged brain child. That piece of meat I just tossed to him...well, that was actually from his brother. I kind of had to kill him a few weeks ago, on account of my being hungry. I guess Doofus didn’t recognize him just then. It’s just as well. So come in, Herc! I’ve got a story to tell you.”
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