Suburbanism: A Tale in Seven Movements
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First Movement

Suburbanism: A Tale of Pride, Courage, and a Boy Named Greeny

Once upon a time there was a boy named Greeny. He was very popular but nobody really knew why, including himself. He lived high on a hill in the middle of Nowhere. Nowhere was a mostly peaceful and harmless land. Except for Greeny.

He believed in Suburbanism.

What is Suburbanism? Well, nobody really knew the answer to that question outside of Greeny and his brother. But the meaning doesn’t really matter to this story except to say that it was a problem.  And not a problem for Greeny, but for the people of Nowhere. They did not understand Suburbanism, so they did not like it.

*******

One morning, Greeny led his spotted moose Ezekiel and a trailing produce cart from the high hill where his house stood and down into the Valley of Nowhere. Without warning, giant monster appeared from beyond the crest of the high hill.

This particular monster was named Blooey. He had a curious interest in philosophy and, having heard of Greeny and Suburbanism, had traveled all night from his home in Someplace to see the young man.

Upon sighting Greeny, Blooey shouted out to him in a loud, rumbling voice. “Greeny! I have traveled all night to see you. Tell me, what is Suburbanism?”

Greeny turned to the monster and spoke boldly. “You dumb beast! Even if I wasted my very breath explaining it to you, you would never understand Suburbanism!”

Blooey was struck with grief. He clutched his head and beat his breast and promptly fell over and died.

Greeny laughed uprouriously and continued on down through the hills and toward the valley. His head filled with prideful thoughts of victory. Another morbid triumph for Suburbanism!

At the bottom of the valley rested a small cottage in which lived the Redding family. Phillip and Esther Redding had been married for years and had a young daughter named Elizabeth Kate. Greeny had a particular interest in the Reddings’ daughter, but that’s not relevant to this story just yet.

As Greeny passed the cottage, Phillip came out to greet him.  “Hello, Greeny! Where are you headed today?”

Greeny halted Ezekiel.  “I’m headed to the river, down to the mill.  I have a full cart of wheat that needs grinding.”  Greeny glanced at Mr. Redding’s house.  “Why do you ask?”

“Well, Esther and I are sending Elizabeth Kate on a similar task later this afternoon, but with all the strange rumbling we heard just a little while ago, we’re a bit worried. Would you please make sure my daughter makes it home safely—or at least to the mill? She should arrive while you’re there.”

With feigned irritation, Greeny agreed to the farmer's request. “I suppose I can stay around the mill long enough to make sure that girl arrives safely.” He chuckled lightly. “And Mr. Redding, that rumbling earlier was a result of Suburbanism.”

“Suburbanism!” muttered Phillip Redding, and then with louder disgust, “Still, I like you enough to believe your word.” And wasting not a moment more, he turned on his heel, sprinted inside, and slammed the door behind.

Feeling slightly offended, but not at all confused by Mr. Redding’s response, Greeny got Ezekiel and the cart moving once again toward the river and the humble abode of the miller. He thought of the miller and remembered that this man, Joseph Bareman, was the one amongst all the population of Nowhere who disliked Suburbanism the most. Greeny was now in just the mood to shove this fact down the miller’s gullet.

As Greeny, Ezekiel, and the produce cart traveled beyond the next rise in the road, Greeny recalled a verbal altercation he had once held with Mr. Bareman. The mill coming into view had jogged Greeny’s memory. Well, not so much the the mill itself, but what gaggled in front of it. Mr. Bareman kept for himself a herd of ducks. On the particular morning Greeny recalled, the herd had parked itself on Mr. Bareman’s brown lawn. The altercation had begun when Greeny commented that ducks might be useful to Suburbanism. My, had Joseph Bareman blown his top that day!

Greeny once again laughed out loud. As it turned out, this expression of delight was an altogether bad move.

Upon hearing the laugh, Ezekiel temporarily lost his mind. As a result, he decided to attempt a magnificent head-over-hooves roll down the hill. Unfortunately for Greeny and the cart, this abrupt change of plans also caused them to roll down the hill—though much less gracefully. Even more unfortunately for Greeny was the way he managed to ram into every sharp rock on what seemed to him a very long trip down. Spotted moose, boy, and produce cart all ended up in a dense thicket of pine trees near the bottoml, just beyond the cottage of one Timothy Elku.

*******

Timothy Elku was not a heavy sleeper, but today he was determined to sleep in past noon. He had accomplished his goal marvelously, having missed the rather enthralling parade of flailing limbs and splintering cart wheels outside of his bedroom window.

That had been about an hour ago. Just now, Timothy awoke to a somewhat loud scratching noise coming from his front door. Irritated, he looked out of his bedroom window and was glad to see by the position of the sun that it was sufficiently afternoon. So he got up and walked to the front door. The scratching continued. Timothy peeked out his front window to see what could be causing such a ruckus.

Now, Mr. Elku was not at all a timid man, but upon seeing a fully-grown spotted moose trying to tear down his door, he became a bit frightened. In fact, he was very frightened. He bolted into his room and hid under his bed.

After about an hour of lying curled up in a ball, Timothy finally regained his senses. The moose had stopped scratching at the door some time ago, so Timothy decided to open it. Outside, he saw the moose and courageously approached it.

Timothy realized it was Ezekiel, Greeny’s spotted moose. Not particularly joyful that Greeny was involved—no doubt Suburbanism would be involved as well—Timothy nonetheless decided to try to do the right thing and return the moose to its owner. He walked Ezekiel up to the mill.

Timothy tied up Ezekiel out front before entering the mill. Inside, he found the miller sitting at his table eating lunch. 

“Hi, Joseph,” said Timothy, “Have you seen Greeny lately?”

Joseph looked up.  “Hello, Timothy. No, I haven’t seen him in awhile. Why do you ask?”

Before Timothy could answer, Elizabeth Kate walked in, carrying a bushel-basket of wheat.  “Good afternoon,” she said. She looking around. “Where’s Greeny?  I saw Ezekiel outside and assumed he would be here.”

Joseph cleared his throat and said, “Well, Elizabeth Kate, before you so heartily barged in, Timothy had just asked a similar question. I then implored him to explain. Timothy?”

“Thank you, Joseph,” said Timothy.  He told his tale: “This very morning—afternoon actually—I was awakened by an enormous din at my front door. I inspected the situation further and discovered Ezekiel, that there spotted moose, trying to bang my door in. So I figured Greeny had finally lost control of his moose and I should do the right thing and return it to him. Well, the next thing I did was fling open my door and grab the bull by the horns. I dragged the moose uphill, tied it out front, and here we are. And I’ve been thinking, Suburbanism must be involved somehow.”

“Suburbanism!” moaned Joseph.

“Hmm,” said Elizabeth Kate. “Maybe we should check the river to make sure Greeny didn’t fall in there. Perhaps that’s where Suburbanism led him.”

“Sure,” said Joseph. “Anyway, that sounds like a fine idea Elizabeth Kate. Why don’t you stay here with the spotted moose while Timothy and I go search the river. Come on, Mr. Elku.”

*******

All three exited the mill. Joseph showed Timothy the path down to the river and Elizabeth Kate sat down by Ezekiel.  

“Oh, Ezekiel!” she quavered. “Where is your fair owner and master? If only you could speak, then you could tell us. But no, you are only a spotted moose.”  She grieved.

“I would tell you if I could,” said Ezekiel, “but as you said, good girl, I am only a mere spotted moose.”

“Yes,” the maiden replied. “I would do just as well to ask for all my wishes to become reality.” She grieved some more.

A short time later, Joseph and Timothy returned. Elizabeth Kate jumped up. “Any sign of Greeny?”

“I’m afraid that there was hardly any,” said Joseph.

“But we also think there was just enough,” said Timothy, holding up a soggy item that almost looked like a boot. “We figure that this must have belonged to Greeny, and a few feet away we found what nearly looked like moose tracks. I’m sorry to say that we can only conclude the poor boy’s demise.”

Elizabeth Kate wept.

Joseph put his hand on her shoulder and attempted to comfort her. “Cry,” he began, “but do not cry too hard; mourn, but do not mourn for too long; go ahead and grieve deep in your heart, but only for today; for we all must believe that the sun will rise again tomorrow and that life will move on.”  His heart became heavy and he too wept. Then he said, “Come, Elizabeth Kate, let me bring you home on this sad day.”

“I will come as well,” said Timothy. “I think we should have some sort of memorial for Greeny. Yes, even despite all of his ideas that he called Suburbanism.”

So the three companions headed back toward the Valley of Nowhere and the Redding household. There they found Mr. and Mrs. Redding waiting out front for their daughter’s return. Elizabeth Kate rushed to them and tearfully told the horrible story of how Greeny had been lost. The entire Redding family mourned together.

Then all five went inside the cottage. For more than an hour they sat in the den and remembered together the boy they knew as Greeny, somehow avoiding bringing up the subject of Suburbanism. But Timothy at last said, “You know, in the end, I think what finally took him was Suburbanism.”

“Timothy,” said Joseph, “I don’t think now is the right time t–”

“No, he’s right!” roared Phillip Redding.  “I always knew that Suburbanism would be the end of Greeny.”

“Death to Suburbanism!” shouted Esther Redding unexpectedly.

“Yes! Yes!” said Timothy.  “Suburbanism must end!”

“It ends here!” added Mr. Redding.

“No more Suburbanism!”

“Burn Suburbanism down!”

“Where is Greeny’s brother? He believes in Suburbanism too!”

“He must burn at the stake!”

“Stop!” screamed Elizabeth Kate Redding. She had been listening in shock to the sudden malicious turn in the conversation. “We came here to remember Greeny, not to condemn him. This is all wrong!”

“Elizabeth Kate is right,” said Joseph. “So let us all join in memory of Greeny one last time and raise a cheer of ‘Suburbanism’. Then we can be done with it forever.”

The others agreed.

So they together raised their voices in unison for one final salute to Greeny: “Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism! Suburbanism!”

Dear Arem,

My heart is warmed to hear you are doing well! Here is the second installment of the digitized version of The Chronicles of Nowhere. I know, I know. This absurd tale may be a complete work of fiction. It truly could be. But there’s something about Suburbanism that keeps me reading these sections over and over. Some wisp of a passing shadow that makes me think there may be some truth to history presented here. I can’t quite place my finger on it. Perhaps you’ll have some insights I’m missing. I feel there must be something.

Or maybe it’s nothing.

In any case, the physical copy is officially on its way to you. It’s a race to see whether it arrives before I complete the digitization.

May peace continue continue with you.

-Bishop Dawuda

Greeny’s eyes snapped open as he entered the world of the waking. His first thought was that of pain. Immense pain. Subsequently, his second thought was that he wanted to go back to sleep. For his third thought, he wondered where he was. It was dark, but that concern passed as he became suddenly distracted by something else.

As Greeny lay on his back in the dark in great pain, his eyes spotted something not a foot above his face. 

Another face.

Naturally, he was surprised by this rather unexpected encounter. “What in Suburbanism is—”  He was cut off by a swift punch in the face and lost consciousness.

Some time later, he awoke to discover he could see much better. He now lay near a roaring fire. By the light of the fire he observed he was in a dense pine thicket and that the fuel for the fire was a produce cart. The memory of where he was and what had happened came crashing down on him like a giant cheese wheel. He remembered how he, his spotted moose Ezekiel, and his produce cart had crashed down a hill, past the cottage of Timothy Elku, and into this pine thicket. Then he was faced with another challenge to his grasp of reality.

A tribe of baboons sat around the fire. Greeny didn’t know what to think. He had very little experience with baboons. Maybe Suburbanism could help. But no, he would just have to wait things out, as all seemed to be calm for the moment. One baboon roasted a marshmallow over the fire. Another sat on a log, reading a book.

Out of the darkness stepped another baboon which approached Greeny.  It shoved a bowl in his face.  Seeing that the bowl contained what looked like water, Greeny decided that it wasn’t worth it to refuse the kind primate. Besides, he was extremely thirsty.  He took the bowl and drank its contents. The baboon, looking pleased, moved to sit around the fire.

After drinking the liquid, Greeny instantly started feeling better. All of the aches and pains from his fall began fading and his face started to recover from being punched. Whatever was in that bowl sure was good and strong.  “Wow,” said Greeny in wonderment.

The baboons turned to look at him. As if suddenly remembering Greeny was there, they started to “talk” amongst themselves and gesture at him. Before long the discussion turned into a heated argument and the baboons split into two opposing groups.

As the debate dragged on, Greeny couldn’t keep from smiling. Despite not understanding a word, he got a good impression of what was going on. A monkey moot, he joked to himself. Well, no, a baboon moot really. He chuckled lightly. Then something shut him up.

Suddenly and enormously unexpectedly, Greeny could understand what the baboons were saying. What he heard shocked him and captivated him. He listened intently. The baboons were talking about him…and Suburbanism.

“I still say that it is not worth it,” said the baboon who had been reading a book.

“But he is too dangerous to keep alive,” replied the marshmallow-roasting baboon. “He believes in Suburbanism! You know our laws, Marcus. He must die!”

“Yes, I know you are right,” said the book reader, looking defeated. “All in favor of putting the small man to death say ‘aye’.”

“Aye,” said the baboons unanimously.

Greeny snapped out of his captivated interest into astonished concern. He realized that his present location was not one that he would want to be at soon thereafter. Feeling physically much better thanks to the amazing beverage he had been provided, he jumped up and ran for his life. Seeing him take off, the baboons chased after.

Once Greeny cleared the thicket, he recognized where he was. To his right he saw the home of Mr. Elku, but rejected running there. Timothy would be no help.  Instead, he ran straight forward up the hill toward the mill of Joseph Bareman. The baboons were gaining on him.

Approaching the crest of the hill, Greeny saw his spotted moose standing there.  “Suburbanism!” he shouted. The baboons drew nearer. Greeny reached the Ezekiel and jumped on his back.  “Run, Ezekiel, run!” he cried.  As the moose took off at a gallop, one of the baboons lunged at Greeny, grabbing and tearing his right pant leg. It made no difference. As the baboons faded into the southerly distance, Greeny laughed loudly. Yet another scintillating success for Suburbanism! 

*******

Joseph Bareman walked north. He had left the home of the Redding family and decided not to head back to the mill. There remained something to be done. Unfortunately, this task would only add more sorrow to a sad day that had now turned to night.

Joseph walked the road to the home of Greeny’s younger brother, Waters. He figured he would take it upon himself to tell Waters what had happened to his older sibling. It was not a task Joseph looked forward to.  Only two years separated the boys and they always seemed close to one another.

Joseph had hoped to take Timothy along to talk to Waters, but that didn’t work out. What a fool Timothy was! After Joseph, Timothy, and the Reddings had finished their ‘Suburbanism!’ chant, Mr. Redding had opened a bottle of wine to celebrate. Timothy had become very drunk. After he finally passed out on a couch which the Reddings said he could stay on for the night, Joseph left in much distress. He would tell Waters the horrible news alone.

He became even more distressed as he recalled the lachrymose life Greeny and Waters had led. Several years back, their parents had been tragically killed in a fatal ox-cart accident in the suburbs of Righthere City. Being orphans, the kind people of Olware Village, capital of the land of Somewhere, had taken the boys in as their own. Well, that hadn’t lasted long.

Greeny and Waters had run off, each to live on their own. Waters found a good piece of land near Olware Village in Somewhere, while Greeny had traveled farther south to Nowhere. Eventually, they both had built their own small houses and had since done rather well for themselves. Still, they led sad lives.

Joseph remembered that he liked Waters as much as he had Greeny. Nonetheless, Joseph was wary; Waters also believed in Suburbanism. Joseph groaned in disgust.

As he exited the Valley of Nowhere and entered the land of Somewhere, Waters’ house came into view. It was no more than a small cottage on some flat land, but far more impressive was the huge fountain on the front lawn. Waters had built it himself some time ago. Joseph always found it pleasant and welcoming. He picked up his pace.

As he drew closer he also recalled that Waters had tamed an animal like Greeny had done with Ezekiel. In its pen out back was Waters’ bowlegged brown bear named Betan.

Joseph went up to the cottage door and knocked. Immediately, Waters opened it. “Hello, Mr. Bareman,” the boy said.

“Hello, Waters,” said Joseph, “may I step in?” Waters nodded assent and Joseph entered.  “Waters, I have some terrible news for you.” Waters looked at him quietly, patiently. Joseph took a deep breath and said what he had to say. “Your brother Greeny was killed in an accident down by the river today. I’m very sorry.”

“He’s not dead,” said Waters simply. “I would know if he was, so I know that he’s not. How do I know? Well, Joseph, in case you have forgotten, I am a child progeny.”

Joseph’s heart sank in pity for the boy, unable to accept the loss. All he could say was, “Most children are.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Anyway,” said Waters, “why don’t we take a little ride on Betan to find Greeny alive, and prove you wrong.”

Joseph sighed and resigned himself to helping the boy through his grief. “Whatever will make you feel better,” he said. They went outside.

Before they could even go around the house to the bear pen, Joseph found himself proven wrong and Waters proven right. Riding up to them on his spotted moose was none other than Greeny.

“Hello!” shouted Waters cheerily.

“Hello, Waters,” said Greeny as he drew closer. “It’s good to see you again. You too, Joseph.”  Greeny slid off Ezekiel’s back and the brothers embraced each other.

“Now hold on,” said Joseph, very confused. “You’re supposed to be dead, Greeny. What’s going on?”

Greeny turned to Joseph. “Why, nothing is going on. It’s true that I was in some danger today, but Suburbanism saved me!”

“Suburbanism!” Joseph’s stomach churned. “Well, I’m glad you’re still living, Greeny.” And without further ado, he turned and ran for home.

*******

The two brothers laughed heartily. “Tell me,” said Waters, “what happened?”

“Give me something to drink,” said Greeny, “and I will tell you the whole wild tale.”

Waters went over the fountain and picked up two bowls near its base. He dipped them in the fountain and gave one to Greeny. “Drink this,” said Waters, “it will make you feel better. But now for your story, Greeny. Tell me.”

Greeny accepted the bowl. “This story will make you laugh some more, Waters. But first, I think we should start with a toast to Suburbanism.” Waters assented. They lifted up their bowls and Greeny shouted, “Suburbanism!”

“Suburbanism!” answered Waters, and the two brothers drank deeply.