” ‘Joe’s Sea and Joe’s Mountains,’ replied La Contessa promptly. ‘Everybody does—but I always thought they were just names; do you mean that they are actually named after somebody—I mean, somebody real?’
” ‘Milady!’ wailed the cleric, aghast. ‘Think upon your soul! Think upon the gates of Paradise closed before your beseeching pleas! Think—’
” ‘Oh, shut up, you old bore! I want to hear about Joe. Tell me!’—This last to the wizard; the parson lapsed into a pained silence; his hands covered his ears.
” ‘In reply to your query, madame,’ spoke the wizard, ‘it is difficult to speak with precision. Of all legends and myths, none is so fascinating as that of Joe—none so full of weird portent; none so pregnant with veiled surmise.’
“He paused for a moment; then continued. ‘By my studies, I have deduced that he was the first of the Grotum People, that long-since-vanished race of primevals believed to have inhabited this land at the dawn of time. For years, the opinion advanced by Leakey Laebmauntsforscynneweëld—that the Grotum People were an offshoot of the human family which died out without issue—was accepted by all students of paleoanthropology without question. In recent years, however, Leakey’s cousin Johanson Laebmauntsforscynneweëld has argued that the Grotum People were, in fact, the direct ancestors of modern humanity, and has even advanced a handful of fossil remains to substantiate his claims.’
” ‘I myself accept neither of these views, for I tend rather to agree with the more ancient view of the venerable F. Mayer Laebmauntsforscynneweëld that all these purported “vanished species” and “extinct races” are confused myths of deformed, but human, personages. Thus even the existence of this legendary race of proto-humans, these “Grotum People,” remains, to my mind, unproved. But this is not the sole mystery surrounding the matter—by no means! For, if the Grotum People did exist, they disappeared most strangely—overnight, it would seem; with no apparent reason. Other than Johanson’s questionable fossils, the only record exists in the folklore of primitive savages—and in the shorter tales told by night round gypsy campfires, in the darkness of troglodyte caves, in the tenement cellars of dwarves; and, of course, in the ravings of revolutionists and such-like heteroclites; even there, little is said, for little is known.’
” ‘On one point all legends agree—the Grotum People were giants, much larger than modern folk; though given, it would appear, to great hairiness and frightful deformities. Beyond that, the stories are obscure, apocryphal, fragmented, contradictory—opaque in all aspects. Only a single substantive scrap of verse remains extant concerning the life of Joe himself; this, a chant sung by the wild men of the Sssuj at the initiation rites of puberty.'”
“Oh, Mrs. Lang—” whispered the Director of Companies; Barley coughed—hurried on—
” ‘Would milady care to hear this chant?’ asked the wizard. ‘Certes!’ came her answer.
” ‘I have had my apprentice commit it to memory—no small feat, I assure you!—though less so on this occasion than usual, I will grant the dolt that. Dwarf, recite Joe’s Chant!’ The gnome sat up straight on the edge of the seat, his legs dangling. His beady little eyes glazed with effort; then, in a shrill voice, the following—
One day Joe was loping along
and all the people came up to him.
All this loping along is killing us,
We need something to keep us going,
they said.
So Joe invented food.
But one day Joe was loping along
and all the people came up to him.
All this loping along is boring,
There must be something else to do,
they said.
So Joe invented fucking.
But one day Joe was loping along
and all the people came up to him.
Ever since you invented food and fucking,
there’s too many people and not enough food,
they said.
So Joe invented work.
But one day Joe was loping along
and all the people came up to him.
Ever since you invented work,
everything’s too hard to keep straight,
they said.
So Joe invented bosses.
But one day Joe was loping along
and all the bosses came up to him.
The people won’t listen to our bossing,
and they tell us we’re full of shit,