Ella Minnow Pea (13 page)

Love
,

Tassie

(This is the last time I will terminate a letter in this manner now that “V” is soon to leave us. A new letter goes. So what else is new?)

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[Slipped under the Minnow Pea front door]

NOLLOPTON PRISON NOLLOPTON

Toes (Halloween), Oompahpah 31

Miss Pea:

Man was here. Young man. Southern U.S. While you were home. Got your relation. Got your Aunt. I let him get that Tassie—that angel girl—let him steal her, pure truth! I must sign paper saying this—per authorities. They were here—the authorities. They put me to signing this paper saying what happen.

Anyway, you got no reason to return to this prison anymore. Seeing that she is no longer here. They will put eye to your house, though. Might they show up there—Tassie-girl, your aunt, young Ameri-man. My guess, though, is that those three are gone-gone—set sail I’m sure to the States. Anyway, this is the thing: you no got to return.

Guess what? I go to the lash. A sentry who lets a prisoner go, he gets the lash, gets the whole nine-tail-lam. It’s worth it, though. To see that sweet, pretty girl release! Hurrah!

Yours truly
,

Sentry William P.

HALLOWEEN

Ella—

I am no longer in prison. Nate is the reason. He got us (Mother, me). We are on our way to the States. My horseman-gallant in shining armor! I wish you were with us. Then again, it is important too that you remain in Nollop. Now rests almost solely upon you Enterprise 32. You will triumph, we are sure. Our hearts, our prayers are with you.

Tassie

PS. I am trusting that the young shrimper we met in the north lagoon will get this letter to you. He was on his way to Nollopton to sell his haul. As a result, this letter may smell slightly shrimpish.

[Posted on the front door of the home of a woman who wears an orange hat]

NOLLOPTON

Wetty, Nosegay 1

Woman in pretty orange hat:

My name is Ella. I saw you yesters, rummaging in the rear—that shut Italian restaurant on Main. No got to rummage. There are plenty eats in Wally’s store at Eighth meets Elm. (Are you a shrimp eater?) Wally, I hear, is a humane man. He is rationing eats—they will last longer this way. No money? No got to worry. We who are still here will help one another. I want to meet you. See me tonight?

I use to possess relations—my mother, my papa, my Aunt Mittie, her she-heir Tassie. Gone now. All those near to me, gone.

I am alone. Perhaps you are alone too?

See me tonight? My home: 4 houses east. I got stew tomatoes!

Ella

[Posted on the Minnow Pea front door]

NOLLOPTON

Thirsty, Notaphily 2

Ella,

Happy to get your letter. We possess a sense sometimes we are the only ones still here. We will see you not tonight. Tomorrow night, yes? I insist, though: my home. Little one—Penny—she is ill. She perhaps not so ill tomorrow, although she ought to stay in a little longer. We were not rummaging, we must say. We thought there was gas. Must get gas into our generator. How is your power? They supply us only one hour in the morning now. No one remaining at the power plant to man operations there.

Wally is a humane man, you are right. He is helping us in this trying time. We must all help one another.

Tanya T.

(the woman in the pretty orange hat)

NOLLOPTON

Satto Gatto, No-trump 4

Tanya,

What a sweet time I was shown at your house last night! It was so pleasant meeting your spouse. It was a pleasure too, meeting your girl Penny. I am happy that she is nearly well.

I was also happy to meet Mannheim, also his young assistant Tom, although not please to learn that the institute is no longer open. Nothing is open any more, is this true? Tom tells me that the state operates now only to relate the next letters to omit. There are no other magisterial assertions. The thug-uglies arrest, thrash—then expel. The high priests generate their alpha-elisions, then return to their lairs to eat what tasties were put there, while praying to Nollop, paying homage to Nollop, stooping, prostrating, salaaming to Nollop. Ignoring all humanity in their Nollop-apotheosis.

Let us say Nollop
were
all-hallow preeminent Omnipotentate, why—still—shut out all those with whom one shares this planet? Were we put here on this earth only to worship? Exalting Nollop is to erase all that is non-Nollopian upon this isle. To utterly erase an upright, meritorious people. Genoerasure.

Oh the humanity!

So, tea tomorrow? I eagerly await your response.

Ella

PS. 43! 43! One step nearer our goal. I hope that Tom was all right with that hug.

My girl wove six dozen plaid jackets before she quit.

NOLLOPTON

Sunshine, Norepinephrine 5

Miss Pea,

A pleasure it was to meet you two nights ago. Your smile warms me, illuminating the gloom. (The hug was pleasant as well.)

We are alone at the institute now—Mannheim, his girl Paula, yours truly. The entryways are hasp-shut; though we easily mount the trellis next to our lunette to gain entry. We then may toil on, without espy-ation. The other pupils—the other worthy assistants—they are, alas, all gone.

Expulsion.

None, I am happy to say, went willingly.

We, Miss Pea, (may I appell you Ella?) are the only ones who persist now in Enterprise 32. The others who remain on this isle plow their energies into hunting aliments, into maintaining shelter in these unsure, austere times. As a people, we Nollopians now seem to exist only elementally. Outright primals we are now!

Piteous loss.

A loss, though, that I may not examine too long as my mission shouts my name.
Our
mission. We are true partners in this.

May I also note that you are pleasingly pretty? (I let that slip out, I am sorry! I meant it, though!)

Mannheim’s girl Paula will rap on your portal soon. She will present our latest attempt. There is little time. 11 sun-to-suns. Then the 16th.

“U” is gone. I suppose you’re aware. The 1st aeiouy to go. Up until now the other graphemes were not aeiouys. When the aeiouys start to go, Ella, writing to you turns exponentially more grueling. I will not throw in the towel, though. I trust that you won’t either. I truly relish our partnership.

Perhaps we may sup together tomorrow night at the unilearnity? I will show you how to shinny up the trellis.

I got lime gelatin!

Your ally
,

Tom

^Th
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[Slipped beneath a neighbor’s front door]

NOLLOPTON

Monty, Nostromo 6

Hello there.

I am Ella—the one who smile at y’all yesters. Whose home is near. I am writing to people who are still here. Who I still see in the streets, who peep at me—wall-in, porthole, portiere people. Wanting to say something, with anxiety stilling erstwhile galloping yammers. It is important that we say something to one another—any little thing. We are not low-tier animals. We are higher entities, am I right? Say something. A greeting. Anything.

It is important, as well, that we stay in nearness to one another—not only in the proximital sense—in the sense also as persisters—inheritors. We are all that remains—the ones who maintain the remnants—the Nollop that earlier was.

Retreat is not an option.

Ella

[Slipped beneath the Minnow Pea front door]

NOLLOPTON

Monty, No-way 6

Insane woman name Ella:

Retreat is what we want. Go away. Let we alone.

Anonymess

[Posted on the Minnow Pea front door]

NOLLOPTON

Monty, Nostomania 6

Mittie—

This letter I post on this here portal in hopes that Mittie might see it. That Mittie is staying here at her sister’s home now. I hope hope hope it is so. I am in a home not too remote. Three homes away. It was empty when I got here. It is
my
home now.

It was a long trip—2 night-to-nights—to get here on shoe—to get to where my ally Mittie perhaps is. I ate twigs. I slept in sewer-arroyos. The yellow-sphere shone harshly on me. In the north I was near insanity. It wasn’t pretty.

Isolate. Solitary. So lonely it was where I was. More so lonely than here. Here where Mittie is!

Please ignore not my appeal. As earlier. When one moment Mittie was there, the next she was not. I am so sorry as I mention earlier, the things that I perpetrate to harm Mittie. What I see now—it’s all so plain, my past errors so apparent to me now. I saw into the glass swarthy; yea, now my eyes are open!

I want eagerly to go to my Nash, to my son Timmy in the States. I may not. I am to stay here. Nash tells me this is how I am to help those I esteem—the only way to retain what little we own. Yet it is hopeless, my staying there in that remote hamlet where we possess the tiny property. What is the worth? Why is my staying there more important than seeing the ones I esteem: my Nash, my sweet, little, not-yet-eight-no-matter-what-anyone-says Timmy? Mittie sees, right? How I so miss my sweet ones!

We help one another now, agree? I say I am sorry; Mittie says it is all right. Mittie assents to this, yes? Please say we are mates.
Amigas. Say, please, that we are womanpals. I so greatly wish to hear these terms!