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The Gypsy Caravan VI

The Gypsy Caravan I (Phoenix Quinn)
The Gypsy Caravan II (Arjay Phoenician)
The Gypsy Caravan III (Manong Rizal)
The Gypsy Caravan IV (Maverick10 Dodge Knight)
The Gypsy Caravan V (Arjay Phoenician)


This is a travelling story. It's goal is to take a journey of wisdom around the e-world. If you like where it's going, then continue the story by putting a link to this article at the top of your article, name your article the same as this one -- "The Gypsy Caravan" -- and continue the story. Also put this notice at the top of your story.

The story so far:
* A flightless bird named Noob is nabbed on the plains of Africa and whisked away to a strange enclosure by a gang of haireless apes who teach him how to click buttons.
* The good Doctor Phoenician befriends Noob and teaches him how to survive and thrive in the New World by making new friends.
* Noob encounters a mysterious market-keeper, Doh Mein and his even more mysterious daughter, Quah Li, who likes tea. Noob has a terrible fright when he tries to explore what's behind the golden doorknob.
* It's discovered that Noob's fright was due to his sudden transmigration through the land of Banhammer. Luckily he is reborn, this time in human form, as Boobman, defender of Noobs and Boobs everywhere!
* Boobman and the Doctor travel long miles, visiting many corners of the New World. Other free-spirited gypsies join their tribe. At a fork in the road, one path leading to Eden and the other leading to Peace, they decide to set off down a new path through the tall grass.

Our story picks up as the final straggler in the gypsy caravan looks back at the fresh path that the gypsy caravan's created in the tall grass...


The wind over the tall grass stirred a whisper of nostalgia in the mind of our straggler, whose name was Wren.

Wren loved her new tribe, but missed the familiar comforts of home. The wind whispered to her... Hey Wren, remember listening to election results on the internet radio channel, while Marco and Polo made hilarious wisecracks about Ajay Bruno? Wren giggled out loud. Oh, yes! Man, we hated that crazy douchebag!, she thought.

Wren recalled how much fun she had setting up our little grain company out there on the prarie. Such big plans we had! It was so much fun helping out the noobs with free bread and watching them learn to click. Remember Polo's first newspaper article? Oh Jeez, it didn't even have any punctuation and he wanted to know how soon there was going to be Q5 hospital in Iowa! Ha! Did he ever get flamed for that! Poor little guy, he almost passed back into the Other World after that..

Wren heard a loud noise in the distance. Her eyes lifted up. Evidently there'd been an explosion in the land of Peace. Smoke was rising above those lands.

A voice called out to her, "Wren, come on! Catch up!" Her new friends were moving deeper into the tall grass.

She noticed some dark clouds beginning to roll in over the lands of Peace.

With a slight chill, she thought about that guy who'd made her laugh so much. Not Marco and Polo -- they were just goofballs, her buds and babies. No, it was that one who'd been a Greek resistance fighter and who'd sung so beautifully one night that it almost brought a tear to her eye. What was his name? It seemed like maybe he had several names... and then. Then one day, he was gone. She'd never expected to meet someone like that, so free and warm and expressive.

Oh my god, she thought, what if he comes back and I'm not there?

But no, Wren told herself. I musn't be sad about that. He's off on a fine adventure somewhere in the Other World, that one they call "Real". And I barely knew him anyway. And I have new friends now, wonderful friends.

The more she tried to forget him, the more Wren thought about that mysterious stranger with many names.

The wind whispered to her again: He was a warrior.

That's right, Wren remembered... He'd come to my country to help free us from the Occupation. We'd been fleeing for days, barely staying one step ahead of the invaders who'd seemed to enjoy destroying everything in their path. The war'd been going badly. Every day we received frightful news from the Pigeon Messengers. Businesses were destroyed. Friends who fell behind the enemy lines had their citizenship stripped away and were being forced to learn some weird language full of strange consonants and diacritical marks.

Wren remembered the day that the Great North had been wiped off the map. Now the tears came. She and her friends had opened up their meagre home to a stream of refugees. They'd listened in horror to the visitors' stories, and had started to prepare for the day when their own last, best refuge would be stormed.



Then the news had arrived about a crazy group of men and women who had risen up from behind the enemy's lines, riding into battle on bears, of all things, using weapons they'd forged with their own hands using resources they'd been mining from the enemy's own fields, and frightening the wits out of the occupiers with their bizarre war cries. It had been a turning point. All sorts of people started fighting back in earnest. Then that man who claims to be a god was elected to lead the country and he used his wits to turn the tide of battle.

It had been a dizzying time. The whole country was swept up in the war fever. The Great North arose from the ashes and started pushing out the invaders. Eventually all the home regions had been freed.

That man.. that singer.. he'd been part of that wild little group who rode bears into battle. But when the war had been won, he wasn't happy. Wren remembered the worried look on his face whenever his group visited their compound to hand out bread and wave their magical wands of wellness over those who were suffering.

While the streets had been taken over by triumphal marches in honor of the Victory of Good Against Evil, his talk had been not about victory, but about defeat, about "turning into our own worst enemy". What was his name? Pogo? No..

A voice, further away this time, called her name, "Wren! Get moving! We're heading into the mountains and we need to find shelter before nightfall."

The wind picked up. It was no longer gentle. Storm clouds were forming over Eden now too.

Wren ran and caught up with the caravan. Grandmother Boob, who was riding atop an old black bear with numerous battle scars, pulled her up onto the furry mount. As they bounced along, she poured Wren a cup of tea from an ornate golden thermos decorated with a big number '5'. As they moved closer to the foothills, she asked Wren what she'd been thinking about while dawdling back there, staring at the grass.

"Nothing, grandmother, just day-dreaming."

"Ppphhh!", said grandmother, who knew a thing or two, "You'll tell me tonight around the campfire."