12:12 pm
MOOD: about ready to throw a party
MUSIC: Coca Cola (as performed by Jars of Clay)

Dan: Hmm? February 28 is a Friday, and March 1 is a Saturday... 28, 29, 30, 31, 1... Hmm, apparantly there's 3 days between Friday and Saturday...

Dr. Stout: ...And we know that x_i is equal to a+(^b-a/_n)i, so what is f(x_i)?
Student: well, f(x_i) is equal to quantity-all-that-junk-in-there...
Dr. Stout: What?
Student: um, i mean, quantity-all-that-beautiful-..um..-sap, cubed

Pati's Story
by Jackie Nicklas

But what King Robert did not know was that Pati was actually his long lost sister from whom he was separated at birth. He was just a young boy of 5 when she was stolen away from their family by the evil Gregarians, who were infamous for stealing infants from their cribs by night and taking them for their own children, since only 1 out of every 100 Gregarian women are able to bear children.

However, the Gregarians were also known for their horrible ugliness, and upon looking closer at the child, they discovered her unsurpassing beauty and were disgusted. So they discarded her, leaving her by the wooded path, with no more shelter than a little puckerberry bush.

She laid there wrapped tightly in a blanket for 3 days, surviving on the occasional puckerberry that would fall from the bush into her little baby mouth. She would have surely died there, but by the grace of God, a lonely old stone miller was taking his daily walk through the Bickerish Woods and discovered her there, laughing at a little beetle which had gotten itself turned over on its shell and could not right itself. He took pity on her and took her back to live with him in the stone mill, naming her Pati.

The mill was a lovely place for the little girl to live. It was built comfortably against a great knoll, down from which flowed the most beautiful and friendly waterfall in all the land. Pati played with the animals of the forests and talked often to the waterfall, which of course, talked back. She soon became familiar with all the languages of the forest, speaking in the tongues of birds, beasts, and water. Pati and the miller lived together for 17 years, until she was quite grown up and had blossomed into the fullness of her beauty. The miller was kind to her, and they loved each other very much.

All was well with them until one fateful day when some officials of the land came crashing through the Bickerish Woods, plotting out the master plan to a great city that was soon to be built. Pati was out gathering materials to weave a basket when she spotted the officials discussing the plans. They had not seen her, so she quickly climbed a tree so as to be out of sight but not out of earshot. When she learned what they were planning, she was quite heartbroken and enraged at the idea of sacrificing the sweet Bickerish Woods for a noisy arrogant city. The officials were walking toward her tree, and in an attempt to stay hidden, her foot slipped, and down she tumbled, right in the path of the two officials. While the officials were reasonably startled, they also immediately noticed how beautiful Pati was and took great interest in her. Pati quickly got to her feet and ran for the stone mill with the officials in close pursuit behind her. But among Pati's many talents was her swiftness. She was very light on her feet.

The miller saw them coming a bit far off and, being a quick and sharp old man, prepared immediately to fight and defend his dear Pati. Pati tore into the mill and took momentary comfort in a nearby corner of the room, but was soon watching in horror the scene unfolding before her.

Now the miller was a skilled swordsman. (It was even suspected by Pati that he was once a great warrior in the Quillaring Wars of old, but he never admitted to it.) But he was growing old (as old men do), and he was certainly outnumbered. Hence the battle ended quite horribly.

Pati could not believe her eyes! The only family she had ever known now lay in a lifeless heap at her feet. She felt enormous despair, but was not unaware of the victorious officials who were now advancing toward her. Her heart screamed out in rage, and being an expert in fencing herself, retrieved the sword from the miller's hand, and through a torrent of tears, quickly and easily ran them both through.

Having nothing else left to do, Pati kissed the miller and showered him with her tears, then reluctantly made her way to town in hopes of finding someone who might help her. When she got there, a festival was going on, and almost the entire population was in the town square. The square was madness. People everywhere were crowded into this space of feasting and ridiculous merry-making. Hoping to make herself heard, Pati began to wander through the crowd, shouting out her story to anyone who would listen. The people of the town soon dismissed her as mad and turned her over to the town officials.

She went before the Grand Courts, but no one believed her story. The Grand Official of this tiny town considered burning her as a witch, but then discovered her to be far too beautiful to put to death. So he silenced the matter and kept her for his own purposes.

Now it seemed that Pati was doomed to become the forced mistress of the most dispiccable Grand Official of the most dispiccable town in the land. But Pati was a woman of strong will and crafty mind. So when the Grand Official retreated to his bed chambers that night, Pati was there waiting for him, but with a dagger hidden in the sheets. As soon as the Grand Official tried to kiss her, she stabbed him in the heart, then escaped into the night.

For the next six years, Pati wandered from villages to cities, living as a fugitive and dodging the dreaded officials wherever she went, all the while mourning the death of the stone miller. She eventually became an expert thief as well, making a living by pickpocketing.

Throughout her travels, she eventually made her way to the seaside town of Rorriel, where an unlucky choice of victim got her captured by two vicious guards and imprisoned on a ship.

Now after all that she had been through, Pati was not afraid, but she could not bear the thought of being killed or defiled by this dreadful king. But then something unexpected happened. The now flustered king released her from her bonds! Intrigued by this sudden compassion (though it may not have had the purest of motives), the king did not seem so dreadful after all. In fact, there was something in his eyes that reminded her of the stone miller. It now became clear that he was merely weary from the day's activities.

Regaining his composure, King Robert asked Pati to join him for dinner. Being famished herself, and seeming to not have another choice, Pati consented. The meal was characterized by the most awkward of silence for the first course. Unable to bear it any longer, King Robert made a desperate attempt at conversation by asking Pati where she came from. Becoming very sad, she told him the tale of the miller's death and her lifestyle hence. Robert was distressed by all this, but, intrigued by the story, he wanted to know more about her. So he asked her where she had come from before that. Again sadly, she told him all she knew, which was only what the miller had told her of his finding her. At this, the king's eyes grew very large, as it is well known that Gregarian thieves often leave rejected stolen infants by the road to die. But unable to fathom that this could be his sister, he dismissed it.

They finished the meal by Robert telling Pati of his adventures. Then, both of them being very tired, they retired to their respective chambers. But King Robert did not sleep. His mind was haunted by faint memories of his baby sister... how all the townspeople had praised her beauty even as a infant. He could not help but compare it to Pati's stunning countenance. But being as stubborn as kings often are, he dismissed it again, giving his poor sister up for dead.

But still unable to sleep, he left his chambers to walk the lonely decks of the ship. To his surprise, when he reached the deck, there was Pati, gazing up into the starlit sky and singing a lilting melody. The song was a simple one, but her voice floated about in such away that it was almost celestial. The more he listened, transfixed by the tune, the more he became convinced that he had heard this haunting melody before. When suddenly, it hit him.

Quickly advancing (and admittedly startling poor Pati), he blurted out, "Where did you learn that song?"

Pati sighed a melancholy sigh. "I don't know," she said, "I've known it as long as I can remember... The miller even used to swear that I was humming it when he found be under that puckerberry bush..."

At this, Robert could contain himself no longer: "Of course! That is the lullaby that my mother used to sing to me... to us! Pati, you are my long lost sister that was stolen by the Gregarians as an infant!"

There was a moment of disbelieving silence, but then both brother and sister broke into a flood of joyous tears as they realized the truth of it and embraced each other for the first time in almost 23 years.