There was a fat man of Bombay,
Who was smoking one sunshiny day,
When a bird, called a snipe,
Flew away with his pipe,
Which vexed the fat man of Bombay.
~*~*~*~
The mayor of Bombay sat on the
balcony of his enormous estate, peering down at his town below which basked in
the beautiful sunshine of a bright summer day. Although the day was
picturesque, the weather irritated the mayor who was renowned for being quite
large. Indeed, the rays of the sun which made clear the beauty of the town also
beat down upon the mayor’s girth, richly clad in fine purple and yellow silks.
His protruding stomach lay heavy and hot upon his knees which were soon slick
with sweat. One large arm made an effort to cool the mayor by slowly waving a green
feather fan in his face while the other’s plump hand was curled around his
favorite pipe, a handsomely crafted piece of art made of wood and painted a
shiny black that gleamed under the sun’s rays, revealing the fine gold swirling
patterns etched all along the pipe. It had been a gift from a colleague to
congratulate the mayor on being elected to office.
As he sat there gazing at the tall
white buildings of the city, a shadow swiftly crossed the man’s face. Squinting
into the sun, the mayor spied a solitary bird circling lazily in the sky, emitting
a small chirp every so often. Just as the mayor was returning his gaze to the
town below, the bird began to descend slowly in the direction of the balcony, landing
light as a feather on the clean white rail directly across from the mayor. They
sat staring at each other for a moment, casually acknowledging the other’s
presence. The bird was handsome, as birds go, a young snipe with a plump brown
belly, a long, slim yellow beak, and beady black eyes as dark and as shiny as
the pipe still lightly clamped between the mayor’s teeth and held in his sweaty
palm.
In a sudden flash of brown
feathers, the bird launched itself from the balcony rail and right into the
mayor’s face. As the man jerked his round head back in surprise, the snipe secured
its long yellow talons tightly around the stem of the pipe and wrenched it out
of the mayor’s slick hand. Letting out a cry of surprise and anger, the mayor
swiped a meaty paw at the bird, but the movement was sluggish while the bird
was swift, having already flapped its way six feet above the mayor’s head and
continuing to rise. Enraged, the mayor fought to lift himself out of the grasp
of his deep plushy chair but to no avail. The man was just too big.
“Guards! Guards!” he called out.
Rushing in from the attached room, the guards assisted the mayor out of his
chair, but, unfortunately, that was all they could help him with for there was
no way to retrieve the snipe which was quickly becoming a smaller and smaller black
dot headed for the distant horizon. The mayor beat his meaty fists upon the
white rail where the bird had been perched not two minutes earlier. Hot and frustrated,
the mayor decided to take a cool bath to be followed by long nap.
Flapping its way slowly out of
town, the snipe carried its treasure through the hot air for several miles. He soon
arrived in a neighboring town where he headed toward a squat clay building in
the middle of the city. Swooping in through the window, the snipe lightly
dropped the handsome pipe upon the counter, landing beside it and waiting
patiently for the shop owner to emerge. Entering from the back room, the shop
owner was not surprised to see the pretty bird and a pretty prize sitting on
his counter.
“Well, hello there, my friend,” he
said while running a finger down the bird’s back, “I see you have brought me
another fine addition to my inventory.” He picked up the pipe to examine it closer
and was pleased with its brilliant craftsmanship. The first time he had found
the little bird on his counter, it had been an emerald ring lying next to it which
had sold for a nice price the very next day. As he had done that day and every
day since the bird had continued to return with valuable items, the shop keeper
reached beneath the counter and presented the snipe with a large, fluffy
biscuit. Taking the biscuit in its claws, the bird silently exited the shop and
headed east toward its nest where three hungry babies waited expectantly for
their dinner.
~*~*~*~
Author’s Note:
This story is based on an untitled nursery rhyme which is quoted at the top of
the page. The rhyme is from The Nursery Rhyme Book, edited by Andrew Lang (1897)
and tells the story of a bird who steals the pipe of a fat man from Bombay. I’m
not sure what it was about this rhyme that caught my eye, but I found myself
imagining how I might more elaborately describe the “fat man from Bombay.” I
had first intended to end the story similarly to the original nursery rhyme with
the mayor going off to take his bath and his nap, but the story just felt
incomplete and I couldn’t help wondering why the bird took the pipe, so I did a
bit of free-writing and just let the bird take me to the story’s logical
conclusion.
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