The Forsaken Village - Chapter 1 - A Letter Arrives

Chapter 1

A Letter Arrives

As they strolled along the Thames, Don Eduardo paused to adjust his bowler hat and cast an admiring glance at his companion. "Señor Snappy, your scales are shining today almost as if you've taken up a side job in silverware polishing," he remarked with a twinkle in his eye.

Señor Snappy responded with a wide, toothy grin. "You flatter me, Don Eduardo. A quick swim through the Thames is my secret. It seems London's dirty water peels the grime off my hide and restores the charm of a cultured alligator."

Their laughter mingled with the gentle hum of the city. "Do you ever yearn for the warmer waters of your homeland?" Don Eduardo inquired, his gaze lingering on the river.

Señor Snappy's eyes gleamed with a touch of nostalgia. "Occasionally. But I find the local tea an excellent substitute. One must embrace the customs of their surroundings, after all."

Don Eduardo nodded in agreement. "True, true. Adaptability is the hallmark of a gentleman. Or in your case, a gentlemanly reptile," he quipped.

The alligator's gaze shifted to Don Eduardo's lavish mustache. "Speaking of which, how does your mustache fare in this English weather? I'm half expecting it to transform into a frosty sculpture on our colder strolls."

"With elegance and poise, much like its owner," Don Eduardo replied with a hearty laugh. "It's not just facial hair, my friend. It's a statement of resilience and style."

Their conversation continued with playful banter and mutual respect as they meandered through the Edwardian streets of London, embodying the very essence of sophistication and daring adventure. 

Finally they arrived at Don Eduardo's mansion on the outskirts of the city, and quickly set to work in preparing the day's supper. The long walk had stoked both their appetites, and with both companions sharing in the cooking, they had soon set a table full of hearty and delicious fare. Don Eduardo shucked several dozen oysters and set them on ice for the opening salvo of the dinner, and pretended not to notice when Señor Snappy could not help himself with the tasting of a few of the tender morsels. He then set to cooking a fish course, fully aware of his friend's taste for all things aquatic, and eager to fulfill Señor Snappy's appetite. As the base, he began with placing large filets of sole into a hot cast iron skillet and they instantly began to sizzle. He quickly dashed the fish with freshly-ground black pepper and a light scattering of capers. A pinch of salt on each filet, an addition of shrimp, mussels, wine, and Crème Fraîche, and his dish was complete. 

"Was it not the French lawyer-turned-chef, Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, who said, 'The Creator, by obliging man to eat to survive, invites him by appetite, and rewards him with pleasure'?" he asked his crocodilian companion. 

"Indeed it was! And by the smell of your Sole à la Dieppoise, we shall be rewarded with a great deal of pleasure this evening." Señor Snappy drew the back of a front paw across the long length of his jaws in the attempt of catching his drool before it fell into the pot. 

For his part of the meal, Señor Snappy mixed tomatoes and mushrooms into his skillet of Chicken Chasseur, giving it a gentle stir. The skin on the pieces of chicken thighs caused a twitch in his saliva glands, with his mind filled momentarily of the days in his youth when an entire (and entirely alive) chicken was the extent of his culinary abilities. 

After dinner, the gentlemen reclined to the study with cigars and cognac. Settled into a pair of wingback chairs before a raging fire, they review the day's post and discussed recent events from the newspaper.  One in particular caught the alligator's attention: the latest developments surrounding Nicola Tesla's Wardenclyffe Tower. Its progress seemed to have slowed or perhaps even stopped due to the recalcitrance of its investors. “Do they imagine such a ground-breaking structure will build itself on dreams alone?” demanded Señor Snappy. “Give your money to a genius, and then get out of his way!”

“Of course!” Don Eduardo agreed. “Certainly you have the discernment which these nincompoops appear to lack. Ah, can you imagine? To travel to New York and see such a magnificent structure? And to converse with a genius such as Tesla?”

“Or, perhaps even to sit with him and his rival, Thomas Edison, as they debate the merits of alternate and direct current,” said Señor Snappy slyly, as he imagined the heated discussion which would ensue. 

“You are an instigator of the highest caliber, my friend!” laughed Don Eduardo. “Or should I say, ‘insti-alli-gator’?”

Señor Snappy opened his jaws wide and let out a roar. He was enjoying another wonderful evening with his best friend.

“But seriously,” Don Eduardo leaned forward from his wingback chair to bring himself closer to his companion, “why can’t we take such a trip? It’s simply a voyage across the Atlantic and a train ride or two into the forests of upper New York state.” 

“After the New Year, I say! We’ll enjoy our holidays, and then set off for America!”

The gentlemen clinked their snifters of cognac in agreement and continued to sift through the day’s mail and newspapers. 

Suddenly, Don Eduardo lifted a letter in the air. “What is this? An entire village of children whom have not been visited by old Saint Nick for the past several years? Outrageous!” 

He went on to explain to his green friend, who was leaning forward in his wingback chair, that the letter was from a certain young man named Bernard. In his letter, he described the small village of Hawthwaite in the Lake District along England’s northwestern coast. The village had not received a visit on Christmas night in the past four years, leaving the children to wonder if they had been forsaken by Santa Claus. 

“His letter concludes thusly,” said Don Eduardo. “‘Please, if only you and your astute companion would come to our village and help us to discover the reason, perhaps we will receive our gifts this Christmas.”

“Tomorrow!” snapped Señor Snappy as he leapt out of his over-stuffed chair. “We'll pack our bags and be off to solve this Christmas riddle!”

Don Eduardo nodded and settled back into his seat. Even if he were to disagree (which he most certainly did not), there would be no dissuading his companion when he was in such a state. 

On to the Lake District!