But—back to the subject at hand. We here
in Funsville are ever ready to give credence to wild rumours, lend an ear to
tall tales, fall for far-fetched fables and, when all else fails, believe the
unbelievable. (What can I say? It helps to pass the time.) Despite all this,
community consensus long held that one story which persisted in making the
rounds had no more facts to back it up than a Canadian senator’s expense claim.
Funsvillians reading this (and they won’t) will know exactly what I’m talking
about. The rest of you (yes, both of you—or is it three now?) will need to be
put into the picture. As pictures go, this one remains a little on the sketchy
side, since it’s a picture of an animal that has only been recently discovered,
and only to a certain degree—the once-legendary, and still largely elusive,
feeny lizard.
So, what’s a feeny lizard when it’s at
home? Well, it’s definitely at home in Funsville and environs; whether you’ve
encountered it or not wherever you are (or not) depends on whether you
recognize the description I’m about to give you. (Take careful notes; I’m
starting now. Ahem…) The feeny lizard is rumoured to be about yea high at the
shoulder, and about yea long and then some, including the tail. As far as its
habitat goes (and it goes about yea far, give or take a little) it tends to
favour root cellars, crawlspaces, dark alleys, under the restroom sinks in
certain cheaper bars and pubs, and any other place where it can’t be seen
clearly. In fact, not being seen appears to be the feeny lizard’s true—and perhaps
sole—raison d’être.
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Those who hold that seeing is believing are
inclined to doubt the feeny lizard’s very existence. This opinion is not shared
by those who trust their ears as much as their eyes. Whether you’re a skeptic
or not, the feeny lizard will make its presence known to you with its
distinctive namesake cry of “hey feeny feeny feeny feeny feeeeeeny”, which it
delivers in a voice unnervingly reminiscent of the late Peter Lorre. This peculiar
vocalization is a singular example of a highly specialized ecological niche,
since the purpose of the cry is neither mating nor self-defense, but instead is
nature’s way of ensuring that the feeny lizard would first be seen only by a
herpetologist named Feeny. Many dedicated and devoted—not to mention unbalanced
and obsessive—men and women answering to the name of Feeny have attempted to
catch a glimpse of the lizard, only to find their efforts unvaryingly thwarted.
It seems that, in addition to its other attributes, the feeny lizard possesses
an innate ability to determine whether someone actually is named “Feeny”, or is
merely answering to the name to see what might happen. The feeny lizard is very
particular in this regard: expeditions led by Professors Finney, Fanney, Faney,
Phiney and Fenner were all disastrous failures. An expedition led by a
Professor Feeney also discovered nothing—except that, to a feeny lizard,
spelling counts as well.
Some small few years ago, the long-awaited
moment finally came to pass—however, Dr. L. J. Kennington Feeny was so proud
of being singled out for such a rare honour that he jealously guarded his
discovery, refusing to share it with the scientific community, or any other
community for that matter. Instead, he took the secret of the feeny lizard to
his grave, where he sits, clasping a lily to his chest and waiting for the
inevitable. Experts are sharply divided on the question of whether all of this
provides better evidence for evolution, intelligent design, or the general idea
that the Universe is badly in need of a tune-up.
Whatever the case may be (as they say in
the unclaimed luggage business), yes, Virginia, there is a feeny
lizard—and if your name is “Virginia Feeny” you’ll have a chance of seeing it.
Otherwise, you’ll have to make do with other signs, signals, and evidence. The
tell-tale “F.L.”-shaped footprints in the dust around the stereo cabinet you
haven’t used since you got your first iPod…
…the teeny-tiny toothmarks on the
collection of Monchhichis you lost interest in after the initial craze…the trail
of slips from fortune cookies you never opened after your last several
Chinese take-out orders. All these are clear indications that you may have a
feeny lizard in your midst. If it’s only one, be thankful. The colony of feeny
lizards we have living in between the roofing joists of the Fortress of
Funitude have taken to sending down hand-calligraphed grocery lists, rendered
in elegant cursive. My appreciation of artistic penmanship has led me to be
rather a soft touch, with the attendant result that the feeny lizards have
become increasingly bolder and more outlandish in their demands. Where I’m supposed
to get ice wine-glazed artichoke hearts and organic baby Swiss chard at this
time of year is anybody’s guess.
Uncle Fun
P.S. If you
haven’t had your fill of lizards for one sitting, you can follow the
blue-lettered link and listen to another one of Mr. Feeble’s Fables—The Chameleon and the Image Consultant.
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