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Authors: Duncan Ball

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SELBY, LOST FOR WORDS

‘A modest repast for your delectation will be provided presently, assuming you so desire,’ Mrs Trifle said to Dr Trifle.

‘What is she talking about?’ Selby thought. ‘What’s this about past elections and presents?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘What language are you speaking?’

‘I was speaking English, of course. I was asking you if you wanted a snack.’

‘Then why didn’t you say it like that?’

‘Because I wanted to use some of those big words that aren’t used very often.’

‘Why not use little words that we use all the time? Then I’d understand what you are saying?’

‘For two reasons,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘The first is that I think we should increase our vocabularies.’

‘You mean learn more words?’

‘Precisely.’

‘What’s the second reason?’

‘The second reason is Ralph.’

‘Is that a reason or a person?’

‘He’s both. His full name is Professor Raphael Bagsby-Gormless. He’s a cousin of mine who I haven’t seen since we were children. Ralph’s an expert on the English language and he’ll be here next month. I thought, wouldn’t it be embarrassing if we didn’t understand a word he was saying? He might think we’re stupid.’

‘I see,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘We might say something to him like, “Would you like a snack?” and he wouldn’t know what we were talking about. He could starve to death and it would be all our fault.’

‘Exactly. Or he might not understand us when we directed him to the indoor sanitation facility.’

‘The what?’

‘The loo. Can you imagine what it would be like not to go to the loo for a week because you
couldn’t find it? He’d surely undergo a catastrophic destructive expansion.’

‘He’d what?’

‘He’d explode. Anyway, his email says that he wants to spend some time in a country town next month. He needs some peace and quiet to do some work. I said he could stay here. I hope that’s all right with you.’

‘Yes, of course, but how are we going to learn all those big words?’

‘Simple. Every time there’s an easy word, a word like
finished
, for example, we’ll look it up in a dictionary and find a synonym.’

‘Oh, I like cinnamon,’ Dr Trifle said.

‘No, not cinnamon —
synonym
. A synonym is a word that means the same thing as another word. Instead of saying
finished
, we might say
concluded
,
culminated
or
terminated
.’

‘Good!’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Where’s another dictionary?’

The next week was Selby’s most confusing week ever. Dr and Mrs Trifle spent their time looking things up in dictionaries and trying to understand each other. Their conversations went a bit like this:

‘Would you care for some melodious sonority?’ Mrs Trifle asked.

‘Are you asking me whether I want milk in my tea?’

‘Negative. I mean, no. I just asked if you were in the mood for a bit of music,’ Mrs Trifle said, turning on the CD player. ‘I gather you’re not implacably opposed to the suggestion, so it shall commence forthwith.’


Gather
?’ Dr Trifle mumbled, as he thumbed through his dictionary. ‘
Implacably
? Oh, yes.
Opposed
? Got that one, too.
Commence
? Yes.
Forthwith
? Now I know what you’ve just said. You’re going to put some music on right now. Hey, you’ve already done it. I mean, the music has forthwithedly commenced. This is fun! That is to say, I am greatly diverted by this activity.’

‘I’m not,’ Selby thought. ‘They’re driving me nuts with all this big-word stuff!’

To make matters worse for Selby, the Trifles stopped watching TV. Instead, they spent their time reading the sort of books that are filled with big words. And when they left notes for each other, Selby couldn’t read them any more.

‘What on earth does this mean?’ he’d say to
himself. ‘“If you are so disposed and if it’s not inconvenient, kindly proffer sufficient sustenance for the domestic canine.” Now wait, the
canine
bit has got to be me. Canines are dogs. I know that much.’

Selby went to the dictionary.

‘Okay, so she wants Dr Trifle to feed me. Why didn’t she just say “Feed Selby”, for pity’s sake? All this looking things up is driving me bonkers! Anyway, it was useless leaving the note because Dr Trifle forgot. Or maybe he didn’t have time to look up the words. Never mind, I’ll get something yummy from the fridge.’

At dinnertime, the Trifles continued using their new words. Bit by bit they began to understand each other and there was less looking things up. Now the conversations were more like this one.

‘Are you aware of a disagreeable, even malodorous, sensation?’ Mrs Trifle asked. ‘The assault on my olfactory organ is giving me horripilation.’

‘I wholeheartedly concur,’ Dr Trifle answered. ‘Perhaps the hour has come for a canine cleansing.’

‘Hey, they’re talking about me again!’ Selby thought. ‘I got the canine-cleansing bit. They want to give me a bath. But what’s all this
olfactory
stuff and what is
horripilation
?! I don’t think that’s even a word!’

As soon as the Trifles were out of the house, Selby raced to the biggest dictionary he could find.

‘Okay, so Mrs Trifle says that I stink so much it makes her skin crawl,’ he said. ‘Hey, that’s a terrible thing to say! Oops (
sniff sniff
), maybe she’s right. All this looking things up is making me sweat. I’d better pop into the shower and freshen up.’

As the weeks went on, Selby got more and more used to big words.

‘I’m beginning to think in substantial lexical items. I mean big words,’ he said to himself. ‘And I’m beginning to like it.’

And everything would have been fine and dandy but then something happened.

It was the day that Mrs Trifle’s cousin was going to arrive. Dr Trifle was racing around cleaning up and Mrs Trifle was helping. But then she was called away.

‘Sorry, dear, I would continue to assist you were it not that my presence is urgently required elsewhere. Would you be so kind as to extinguish the culinary apparatus and remove the confection from its receptacle?’

‘Um, yes, certainly,’ Dr Trifle mumbled as he changed the sheets on the spare bed.

Mrs Trifle raced out of the house and a little later Dr Trifle did the same, leaving Selby alone.

‘I think he forgot to do what Mrs Trifle asked him to do,’ Selby thought. ‘I’d better do it. What was it now? Something about giving a distinguished rat to a receptionist? No, that doesn’t sound right.’

One by one, Selby remembered the words and looked them up in the dictionary. He was concentrating so hard that he didn’t see the smoke in the kitchen.

‘I’ve got it,’ Selby thought. ‘She wanted him to take the cake out of the oven. That’s easy. I can do that. Hmmm, what’s that malodorous sensation?’

Selby looked around at the smoke that was now filling the loungeroom and saw flames shooting out of the oven.

‘Oh, no!’ he screamed. ‘I’ve got to ring Triple 0!’

Selby grabbed the phone and pushed the numbers.

‘Triple 0,’ a voice sang out. ‘How may I help you?’

‘There’s an enormous conflagration!’ Selby yelled.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘A combustible confection has ignited!’

‘You’re delighted?’

‘No, I’m not
delighted
! I said
ignited
!’

‘You’re on fire, is that it?’

‘No, it’s not me! There’s inflammation of great intensity in our area of food preparation!’

‘Inflammation? So you want me to send an ambulance?’

‘No, not an ambulance! Please dispatch some officers to extinguish the conflagration!’

‘Officers? Okay, I’ll send the cops.’

‘No, no, you don’t understand! We’re in a state of dire emergency here on Lamington Drive and —’

`

‘Lamington Drive? Wait. We just got a call from one of your neighbours. Apparently there’s smoke pouring out of your house.’

‘That’s right!’

‘Get out of the house and stay calm. The Fire Department is on its way.’

In seconds the firefighters were there putting out the flames. Moments afterwards, the Trifles both arrived.

‘I told you to take the cake out of the oven!’ Mrs Trifle said, going back to normal talk after the firefighters had left. ‘What a mess.’

‘You did?’ Dr Trifle said, also in normal talk. ‘I thought you sent me off to buy a toilet plunger.’

‘What a disaster,’ Selby thought. ‘And it’s all because of this poncy Ralph guy. I hate him already and I haven’t even met him yet.’

‘Quick!’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘That’s Ralph coming up the path right now! Mind your language.’

‘Oh no, here we go again,’ Selby thought.

‘Greetings and salutations, cousin Raphael,’ Mrs Trifle said, shaking the man’s hand.

‘Welcome to our humble abode, Professor Bagsby-Gormless,’ Dr Trifle said.

‘G’day,’ the man said, ‘how ya goin’? Forget the professor stuff. Just call me Ralph, okay? Crikey! What happened to your kitchen? What a shemozzle!’

‘It was a rather devastating conflagration,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘A what? A fire? Gee you guys talk funny. Stone the crows! Does everybody in Bogusville talk like you lot?’

‘Well no, not really,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘Thank goodness for that!’ Ralph laughed. ‘I came here to study the way people talk in Australian country towns these days. That’s what I’m an expert in. Fair dinks, guys, I love that country sense of humour. You really had me goin’.’

Selby watched as the Trifles’ blushes slowly turned to smiles.

‘What’s the little guy’s name?’ Ralph asked, looking at Selby.

‘That’s Selby,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘He’s our only pet. We think of him as one of the family.’

‘He looks like a cool little dude,’ Ralph said, giving Selby a pat. ‘Oh, by the way, guys, where’s your dunny?’

‘I love this guy,’ Selby thought. ‘He talks my kind of talk. Of course, he’s never going to find that out.’

All of which brings us to the conclusion, the culmination, the termination of this tale. Or in other words:

THE END

CONFLAGRATION!

by Selby Trifle

Allow me a delineation Of
a tricky situation:

A sudden olfactory sensation
Roused me from my meditation
Preliminary examination
Brought about my consternation

As I assessed the situation
A utensil used in preparation
Of a Christmas cake formation
Was all consumed by conflagration

Although unsure of its causation
I acted without hesitation
Out of moral obligation
To bring about its termination

I grabbed the phone in trepidation
Pressed it with my digitation
And quickly rang the fire station
Now I’m consumed with jubilation.

A translation of the preceding confabulation:

FIRE!
also by Selby Trifle

Once while I was sitting, thinking
I smelled something burning, stinking
The Christmas cake was pouring smoke
So I quickly rang the fire blokes.

Paw note: If you read the previous story, ‘Selby’s Play on Words’, you’ll know what this is all about.

S

BOOK: Selby Santa
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