The Battle of the Tartan

**blackbeard** · 22nd August 09, 09:28 PM

These are some of the thoughts that pop into my brain when I'm sewing thousands of tiny stitches in wool.

The Tale of the Young Warrior/Tailor and the Battle of the Tartan

Gather 'round children and I will tell you the tale of Patrick, the young warrior and his battle to tame the mythical beast named TARTAN.

My story starts one fine summer day. The weather was unusually warm for that part of northern California known by some as The Bay Area. Patrick had just finished his morning chores and was settling down for the afternoon with a pint of his favorite ale. Suddenly an idea popped into his head.
“I should make myself a kilt” he thought.
Patrick was known for having interesting thoughts when partaking of such a drink. The idea quickly grew and before he knew it, he was off on his adventure.

Patrick had first heard of the mystical garment known as as the kilt while attending one of the many festivals in the area. Some men at the festival had told him of the powers that the kilt held.
“Men young and old will be envious of your manly confidence.” One told him.
“Women will follow you everywhere, mesmerized by the swish of the fabric. They will dote on you and ask the THE question.” he was told by another.
“What was THE question” he pondered.

Before he could begin his adventure one problem stood in his way. How to begin making such a fine garment. He quickly gathered his thoughts and began searching. He was equipped with a marvel of technology for the day, a box filled with silicone chips . With such a box he could gaze into the far corners of the earth.
“Surely this will help on my journey.” he thought to himself.
He began using the box to peer into every door he could find, but to no avail. None of them held the answer. Finally, behind one door he found his answer. A number of years ago a wise woman named Mistress Tewksbury had unlocked the secret to the kilt. She, along with her mentor Madam Stuehmeyer had written the secret down in a book entitled The Art of Kiltmaking. They held the book in a place they called The Celtic Dragon.
“Finally I've found it!” he shouted ...“But where is The Celtic Dragon?”
As it is a proper name, The Celtic Dragon was easier to find than he thought it might be. He knocked on the door and it was opened by a young woman. She was small of stature, but had a very big welcoming smile.
“Come in” she said. “How can I help you?”
Patrick noticed a small pile of rocks on the desk in the corner of the room. He pondered them a for bit but thought he better not ask about them at this moment. He had a more important task. He inquired about the book and how he could obtain a copy. She replied that she didn't have a copy with her at the moment, but one could be found.
“If you leave a deposit of $34.95” she told him “I can send a messenger with the book in two to three weeks.”
Patrick hesitated for moment (he wasn't a rich man). But reached deep into his pocket and gladly handed over the coin. After all $34.95 was a pretty fair price for such a wealth of knowledge.

Back at home Patrick anxiously awaiting the arrival of the book he had purchased. After a week he heard a knock on the door. He opened the door and a messenger was standing on the porch with a package. Patrick hastily took the package and tore into it like a child on Christmas morning. There it was! The secret of the kilt! He read the book from cover to cover. Every detail of the making of the kilt was there. Step by step instructions. “What a find!” he thought to himself. Now onto the next stage of this adventure... Where to find this mystical fabric called Tartan.

Once again Patrick turned to the silicone chip filled box to find the answer. It seemed that the Tartan could be found in a place called Locharron in the Highlands of Scotland [artistic license]. So off he went. His journey across the Atlantic took him to many places. Some friendly, some not. One of his first stops in the Highlands was the town of Albanach, where a fine young shopkeeper named Newsome told him many tales and the long history of the mighty Tartan. Newsome warned Patrick to be wary of the path to Locharron. “Many strangers are lurking in the woods surrounding Locharron. Some of them”, he said “will try to trick you and tell you stories that are not true. You alone must find the true path.”

After traveling for what seemed days, Patrick began to grow weary. Just as he was about to give up he came upon an inn. The sign hanging from the door read
The Scottsweb.
He opened the heavy wooden door and found himself in large room full of men and women singing and dancing. All of them were dressed from head to foot with tartan. The women had long skirts with sashes tied on one shoulder; the men in tartan pants and vests (some men were even wearing tartan flat caps). A few of the men were wearing the magical kilt. All of this tartan lead Patrick to believe that he was not far from reaching his goal.
Just to the side of the front door was a long front desk. Behind the front desk was a jolly gentleman who introduced himself as Nick. Patrick asked him for a wee bite to eat and a good pint of ale for he hadn't had any nourishment in quite some time. While he was happily eating and drinking, Nick showed him many wonderful pictures of the mighty Tartan. It seemed that there were a good many tartans, all of them equally powerful.
“Which one”, Patrick inquired, “would be the best to tame. “
“Only you can make that decision.” Nick replied.
Finally after carefully examining each tartan, he made his decision. He would go after the tartan named Keith. He then happily found a room in the inn and fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke in the morning and continued on his journey. After a bend in the road, he spied in the distance, a tall mountain. He though this must surely be the home of the Tartan. At the base of the mountain was a deep cave. Entering the cave with caution, he traveled for a few feet an there it was. The Tartan was right before his eyes. The lighting was dim, but he knew this was the tartan he was looking for. Just then he stepped on a twig and “Snap!”. He held his breath and thought to himself, “Now I've blown it. I'll never sneak up on it now.” Right he was! With a roar the tartan reared up and charged our young hero. He thought fast and reached for his sword he named VISA. He swiped and swiped at the beast. Finally he was able to subdue it. The tartan was his! But the battle took a toll on both our hero and his VISA. He quickly hoisted the tartan onto his shoulders and carried it back to the inn. There, Nick, the innkeeper helped him package the beast and arrange for shipping back to The U.S.

Back at home, Patrick awaited anxiously for his parcel. He knew that the most difficult part of his adventure was ahead of him. He had tracked down and captured the Tartan, but now he must tame it. Finally another knock at his door. This time the messenger had not a package, but an envelope. Patrick hastily opened it to find the following message.

We have your package and are holding it until you pay our ransom.
Signed FED EX

“Ransom? What kind of ransom do they want?” he thought to himself. “And who or what is Fed Ex.”
Once again Patrick turned to his magic box to do some research. He discovered that Fed Ex is a horrible two headed dragon. One head will grin and tell you that it will gladly carry a package on it's broad and strong back anywhere you want it to go, and with it's large wings can fly at incredibly fast speeds. This particular dragon can transverse the Atlantic Ocean in just a few hours. The other head can be terrible and cruel, holding the goods until a ransom is paid. Patrick once again armed with his sword, VISA traveled to the nesting ground of the dragon and with one fell swoop, vanquished the dragon and freed his package.

Home once again, this time with his package in hand, Patrick sets out on the final leg of his journey. He opens the package and can't believe his eyes. There is the Tartan. It springs out of the box and becomes the mighty beast it was in Scotland. Within the confines of the room the Tartan is gigantic. It stretches from one end of the small parlor to the other. What will our hero do? His sward is of no use now. It has done its duty but is now dull and sits in the corner waiting to be sharpened. The only tools that are of any use now are a small needle and some thread.
With the help of the book by Tewksbury, he tears into the Tartan head on. The battle is fierce. At times it seems as though the Tartan will win, but our hero takes every setback in stride. Once or twice he is guided along by his friends; the Wizard, Rocky, The Flame-Haired Celtic Amazon Goddess, Wompet The Kilted Elder, and others who are masters in their own right at taming the mighty tartan. He calls on their help and they gladly join in the fray. Finally after hours of battle all eight yards are neatly pleated into a garment that fits snugly around his waist. Exhausted, he looks into the mirror and is quite pleased with himself. He has tamed the mighty TARTAN and his reward is the magical garment called the kilt.

His next conquest. The beast they call SPORAN. But that tale, my children is for another day.

(Any names that resemble those of real persons are merely coincidence)