All the Right Ingredients

This is a sequel. Check out the beginning of Fettuccine's story in...

Fettuccine  (E) In the kingdom of Noodle, everybody said "noodle," and nobody said anything else. #703598 by Treerose

Fettuccine slumped against a tree with a tired sigh and a violent cough. The road leading out of Noodle proved to be nothing if not particularly long and quite dusty; it also seemed to lead to nothing but an expansive forest of stately oaks and bushy glens. Four days had passed since she briskly walked past the large sign proclaiming, “NOODLE!!!” which she guessed meant something like, “Now exiting the Kingdom of Noodle. Have a wonderful day and please come back and visit!!!” and she had neither met anyone nor spied any signs of inhabitants. Now her supply of food and fresh water was much depleted, her clothes were covered in dust, and her body ached from head to toe. In short, Fettuccine was miserable and, brilliant as she was, could see no end to her troubles.

Having determined that sitting around would not solve her problems, she promptly stood. Granted, standing up usually does not solve problems (unless one is sitting upon a cactus), but it certainly seemed to help in Fettuccine’s case for at that moment, a gaudy carriage pulled by a team of regal white horses and driven by a dour man in a pale green uniform slowly rumbled past. Fettuccine gasped in amazement. Perhaps the carriage contained people with extended vocabularies who discussed various topics of conversation. She could only hope as she happily waved for the carriage to halt.

The uniformed pilot reined the horses, scuttled down from his high seat, and flung the door of the carriage open. As the it banged against the carriage’s side, the chatter of unintelligible human voices inside subdued and a tall, mustached man stepped out. He wore a green uniform which was decorated with many golden cords and medals and stood with his weak chin up and his ample stomach pulled in tightly. He silently marched over to Fettuccine, bowed, and stepped aside so a short, thin woman in a revealing gown of green silk could indulge in the same routine. This wordless process continued until ten important people, five men and five women, stood before Fettuccine looking very impressive and very important. Then, the words came.

“I, Basil Geoffrey Bryson Wesley Kilgour III, Duke of Le Guin, O’Dell, and Amber, Supreme Councilor of Townsend ...” The list seemed to go on for a long time. “...ask if I can possibly assist you,” Duke Basil concluded. Before Fettuccine could get over her awe at this open-minded, free-speaking person and reply, the thin woman began stating her name. Fettuccine smiled and patiently waited for all ten of the carriage’s passengers to finish introducing themselves. Most people would find the recitation of ten long, stuffy names to be rather dry and boring, but Fettuccine reveled in all the new words and happily noted the absence of “noodle.”

“We are the open-minded, free-speaking Dukes and Duchesses of Pesto!” Duke Basil thundered, raising his arms in the air. The Dukes and Duchesses of Pesto cheered and Duchess Marjoram wept loudly with pride. “Pray, where are you from, Dusty Stranger?”

“My name is Fettuccine, and I am from the Kingdom of Noodle!” Fettuccine brightly replied.

“Noodle!?!” Duke Dill, an elderly man with one eyebrow, exclaimed. “What a horrible place with the most horrible, narrow-minded citizens!”

The Dukes and Duchesses of Pesto all agreed on how horrible and narrow-minded the citizens of Noodle were. Fettuccine was a little offended. Yes, the citizens of Noodle were a little narrow-minded, but they were her friends and family and not really horrible.

“Obviously you are not narrow-minded at all. In fact you seem very witty and bright,” Duchess Rosemary said to Fettuccine with a kindly smile. “You are like us. We are going to take you to Kalamata so you can be an open-minded, free-speaking Duchess of Pesto.”

Within an hour, Fettuccine was whisked away to Kalamata, fitted for a gown of green silk, and living in Duchess Bay-Leaf’s spare guestroom. The next week passed quickly as she discussed wonderful subjects with the open-minded, free-speaking Dukes and Duchesses, but she noticed something odd during the second week. “Duke Cilantro, where is everyone? I have lived in Kalamata for two weeks and seen no one but the Dukes and Duchesses and their silent servants. Are there commoners or other nobility?”

Duke Cilantro’s face twisted into a look of distain. “Of course, there are commoners and other nobility, but they are horrible and narrow-minded. I detest them. Besides, we are the best people with the right views and opinions,” he replied.

During the third week, Fettuccine began to get bored. There was only so much one could talk about. “Duchess Bay-Leaf, where is your kitchen? I would like to make a meat pie.”

Duchess Bay-Leaf’s face twisted into a look of quizzical distain. “You can simply ask the cook to make you a meat pie. You are far too busy being open-minded and free-speaking to cook. Besides, Duchesses never prepare meat pies. That is for narrow-minded people. It would not be right!”

The fourth week also proved puzzling for Fettuccine. She was attending a party on Duke Basil’s high balcony when she spied two red clad figures on the balcony of a neighboring building. “Who are those people?” she asked Duchess Marjoram.

Duchess Marjoram raised her handkerchief to her nose and replied, “Count Roma and Countess Cherry. The Counts and Countesses of Pesto are very horrible and narrow-minded people. My grandmother always said that while it takes all sorts to make a world, one does not have to associate with them all.”

Over the next month, Fettuccine noticed that all the open-minded, free-speaking Duke and Duchesses ever did was talk about how narrow-minded everyone else was. She gradually decided they were more narrow-minded than the citizens of Noodle and developed a desire to meet the Counts and Countesses of Pesto. They must be wonderful, open-minded people!

One day Fettuccine had enough. She changed into her traveling clothes, put her green silk gown in the closet with her other green silk gowns, packed her small suitcase and walked out of Duchess Bay-Leaf’s house. She quickly crossed the road to the house of Count Roma and Countess Cherry.

A silent servant opened the door.

“I am here to speak with the Count and Countess,” Fettuccine told her. The servant turned and led her into a spacious parlor. Ten people, five men and five women, were seated about on red sofas. One of the men stood up and proudly marched to Fettuccine and began introducing himself. The introductions took almost as much time as those of the Dukes and Duchesses.

After a few minutes of conversation, Countess Cherry turned to Fettuccine. “You are not narrow-minded at all. In fact you seem very witty and bright. You are like us. You should be a Countess. All the right people are Counts and Countesses. I hope you have not run into those horrible, narrow-minded Dukes and Duchesses.”

As all the Counts and Countesses agreed, Fettuccine gasped. They were just like the Dukes and Duchesses. They were petty, narrow-minded people.

Fettuccine excused herself, took up her suitcase and walked out of Kalamata. She felt like crying or kicking someone or both. She had met people like her, free-speaking people who could say anything, and they used their wonderful gift to belittle and shun people. They were pathetically small people living in their own pathetically small worlds. They were not right; they were very wrong. Still, she refused to give up hope, so she thrust her determined chin in the air and started to walk down the road and out of Pesto. Perhaps over the next hill. Perhaps...