Mr. Cobblen

Mr. Cobblen has a very strange mannerism.

Mr. Cobblen appears to be in great pain.

He is always seen truding through town, grimace-faced, holding his right arm with his left hand at a place just above his elbow.

He doesn’t remove his left hand’s grip even at times when the left hand seems a great inconvenience.  For example, when Mr. Cobblen was once seen searching for spare change in his pockets, he did not remove his hand.  Instead, he bent his body slightly forward and to the right in order to reach the bottom of his right-front pocket.

No one knows why Mr. Cobblen will not remove his left hand from his right arm and no one will ask except the smallest children, to whom he replies, “a giant monster bit off my right arm.  I have to hold it to keep it from falling off completely.”

Every mornig, Mr. Cobblen eats breakfast at Tur Burben’s Coffee Shop.  He drinks a cup of tea, and eats a butter croissant, onto which he smears a large dollop of butter.  Mr. Cobblen is very fond of butter.  “I am so very fond of butter,” he thinks to himself as he reads the headlines.

Miss Relban also likes to drink tea.  Mis Relban is not fond of butter, but she loves honey.  She drops a huge spoonful of honey into her teacup.  “I am so very fond of honey,” she says to herself.

“Miss Relban is very fond of bowling,” the neighbors whisper.  Everywhere she goes, Miss Relban is seen carrying a bright red bowling bag.  Inside is a bright red bowling ball.

One day, Miss Relban invited Mr. Cobblen to go bowling with her.

“Bowling?” squeaked Mr. Cobblen nervously.  “Well, I… I… just don’t think I’m any good at bowling.”

“Please come bowling with me,” again Miss Relban asked sweetly.  “We will have fun.  I promise.”

Mr. Cobblen didn’t want to hurt Miss Relban’s feelings, so he agreed to go bowling on Sunday.

After he hung up the telephone, Mr. Cobblen looked at his right arm, which was flapping wildly in the air, and exclaimed to himself, “Oh dear, how can I possibly go bowling?  It’s absurd!  I shall die of embarrassment, and pretty Miss Relban won’t like me anymore.”

You see, Mr. Cobblen’s right arm wasn’t in pain, so there wasn’t a physical reason why he could’t hold a bowling ball with it.  His problem was what to do when not holding the bowling ball.  Every time he let go of his arm, it flopped around wildly in the air, every which way.  He had to hold on tight with his left hand to keep the right arm still when he was in public.

Mr. Cobblen went to Tur Burben’s Coffee Shop to have another tea and buttery croissant.  He thought, “my favorite meal will cheer me up, and I’ll think through this problem.”  And that is just what he did.

Tur Burben was the only person in town who knew the truth of Mr. Cobblen’s secret.  When Mr. Cobblen came in with a frown and furrowed brows, Tur suspected that Mr. Cobblen’s arm was causing him some trouble.

“Why the long face, friend?” Tur asked Mr. Cobblen.

“Well, it’s better than a flying arm!” exclaimed Mr. Cobblen.  “Miss Relban has invited me to go bowling this weekend!”

“Why, that’s wonderful!  Miss Relban is very nice.”

“No, you don’t see!” exclaimed Mr. Cobblen with great agitation.  “I have to let go of my arm to grab hold of the bowling ball!  How can I control my arm from slapping her in the face?”

“Well, that’s simple,” Tur replied.  “The weight of the bowling ball will keep your arm from flopping around.  Then, as soon as you let go of the ball, you grab hold of your arm again.”

Mr. Cobblen opened his eyes wide and grinned.  “Oh Tur, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!”

Tur smiled and said, “perhaps you were too worried about your arm to think about how much fun you will have bowling with Miss Relban.”

“You’re right”, Mr. Cobblen replied.  “Well, wish me luck for Sunday!”

Tur said nothing but smiled even bigger.

Sunday finally arrived, and Mr. Cobblen went top Tur Burben’s for breakfast.  Tur winked at Mr. Cobblen and said, “Good luck, friend”.  After breakfast Mr. Cobblen carefully dressed, and as the finishing touch he put on his lucky yellow hat.

He walked to the bowling alley, and waited for Miss Relban to arrive.  She arrived soon after, and looked quite lovely in a blue skirt that complemented her bright red bowling bag.

“Miss Relban, you look lovely in your blue skirt and red bowling bag,” Mr. Cobblen declared.

“Oh Mr. Cobblen, you must be joking.  But you look very nice in your yellow hat.”

“Oh this old thing,” Mr. Cobblen replied bashfully.  “It’s not much to look at, but it’s my lucky hat.”

“Really?” exclaimed Miss Relban.  “This is my lucky bag.”

Mr. Cobblen smiled bravely.  “Well, shall we bowl, my dear?”

Miss Relban smiled back, but Mr. Cobblen thought she looked a little nervous.  “Well, I guess I’m nervous too,” he thought.

But as they bowled, Mr. Cobblen couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering Miss Relban.  “Oh no!” he thought.  “What if she has noticed my strange arm?  What if she doesn’t like me anymore because I look so strange with this arm?”

After the second game, Mr. Cobblen decided to ask Miss Relban what was wrong.

“Miss Relban, I don’t mean to intrude,” Mr. Cobblen began.  “But I feel that something is upsetting you… and I was wondering if  perhaps you had noticed-”

“-Oh no!” interrupted Miss Relban.  “It is just as I feared.  You have noticed my strange hand!”

“Your strange hand?  What are you talking about.  No, you are upset becaause you noticed my freakish arm!”

“You don’t have a strange arm,” replied a  bewildered Miss Relban.

“Yes I do!  Come, I’ll show you.” And Mr. Cobblen led Miss Relban to the vending machine nook, which was unoccupied.  “You had better stand back, Miss Relban.”  With great caution he slowly removed his left hand from his right arm, and suddently the arm broke free and started flapping and waving in every direction.  It appeared as though the arm were desperately trying to escape the rest of Mr. Cobblen’s body.

“That’s enough,” Mr. Cobblen said, clamping his hand back to his arm.  “I understand if you don’t like me anymore, Miss Relban.”  Miss Relban stared back at Mr. Cobblen, eyes frozen wide.

“Miss Relban, please say something at least!”  Miss Relban blinked, then whispered, “I want to show you my hand.”

Mr. Cobblen looked down and noticed for the first time that Miss Relban was still holding her bright red bowling ball.  She looked down at the bowling ball too, and giggled.  She removed her hand and suddently her left hand clamped into a tight fist.  With her right hand, she fished some quarters from her pocket and bought a soda from a vending machine.

“Now I think it’s your turn to stand back, Mr. Cobblen,” she said mischieviously.  She picked up the soda can with her left hand, and her grip was so tight on the can that it burst open, spraying cola everywhere.

“How did you do that?” Mr. Cobblen was amazed.

“My hand grips uncontrollably.  It becomes quite painful if my hand has nothing to grip to.  That’s why I go bowling all the time.  I can have fun, and hold onto a heavy object the whole time.  During that time, I feel like I’m normal.”

Mr. Cobblen became hysterical with laughter.

“Mr. Cobblen, I don’t think it’s very nice of you to laugh,” scolded Miss Relban.

“I can’t help it.  I’m laughing because I’m very happy!  Here- take my arm, my dear, and let us get a cup of tea.”

And so Miss Relban linked her arm through Mr. Cobblen’s, and her left hand gripped tightly to Mr. Cobblen’s right arm, so tightly that her hand didn’t hurt, and also so tightly that Mr. Cobblen’s arm remained right at his side.  They strolled through the street together, laughing all the way to Tur Burben’s.

And to this day, they eat breakfast together every morning at Tur Burben’s Coffee Shop, and Miss Relban spreads butter on Mr. Cobblen’s croissant, and he pours the honey for her tea.

The End

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