The Madman and the Flower Girl
By Michael Haller
The madman lay on the ground. He was gigantic, and so was his straitjacket. He was staring at the sky and reciting his times tables.
“Two times three is six. Six times two is twelve. Twelve times two is twenty-four. Twenty-four times twelve is two-hundred and eighty-eight.”
Soon he was into the billions, then he began dividing by two to get back where he started.
A girl dressed in flowers came out of the woods. It was night and the stars were swirling.
“I brought you a gift,” she said.
The ogre sat up. Lava flowed from his mouth. She held out a fist and said look inside. Her hand was glowing, a soft yellow light. He looked in the thumbhole and saw a lightning bug, blinking on and off. The ogre was happy, and he cried, like always when happy. His tears made furrows in his face and cooled the lava at his feet. He looked at the girl and said, “Eighteen times twelve is two-hundred and sixteen.” She opened her hand and the firefly drifted away. He followed it with his eyes until he couldn’t tell it from the others.
The girl spoke: “His name was Leopold. He was Archbishop of Prussia until Zeus turned him into a lightning bug.”
Then she said to the straitjacket: “Unfasten your straps and release this man, for he is the King of Koleslawvia.”
The straitjacket unfastened itself and fell to the ground.
Then the girl said: “Madness be gone!” and he was cured of his madness.
And then she said: “Be not so big!” and he was no longer gigantic, but still big.
She led the king to a meadow, where they stood like statues amidst the fireflies. They stared at each other, mouths open, lightning bugs swirling about their heads, until the crickets chirped a magicsong, and they collapsed asleep in the grass.
THE END