"Scott's Land" Seymour Recipe Part III

Seymour was exhausted. He had been running for twelve straight hours since his harrowing escape from the convent of His Undeniable Majestic Presence. He could still hear the painful words of Sister Alfie after Seymour had fended her off with a stiff arm on the run. “I am going down, I am going down, no joy, no joy” were her last painful words. He liked Sister Alfie despite how clueless she was and hated hurting her. Also haunting Seymour was the sight of Sister Moonbeam kicking Sister Jones as she lay helplessly on the ground. It would be very difficult indeed to shake off these sounds and images but he had to in order to survive in this brave new world he had fled into. He knew he had to put a lot of real estate between himself and the convent. By his calculations he had been running for twelve hours at approximately ten miles per hour so he should be about 42 miles from the convent. A safe distance he thought and began looking for a safe place to rest. He found himself in a deep forest and he had heard that dangerous animals inhabited such places. Seymour knew he would have to sleep with one eye open.


Voices awoke him several hours later. At first he thought the nuns hadn’t abandoned the chase and were on to him so he lay quietly among the foliage. He strained to hear what the voices were saying and realized that the voices were those of men. Quietly Seymour crept through the under brush to a place where he could hear but not be seen. He pushed some branches aside and before him were two men in what appeared to be a heated argument. They were standing at a cross road where one road led up through some hills and another led down along sides of the hills. The men were older and had flat little hats and had walking sticks. Each had a grey beard and to Seymour’s delight he could see that each man was wearing a dress. Their dresses were not like Seymour’s as his was to his ankles and theirs were only to the knee. While his dress was drab and black those of the two men were gaily colored in patterns he had never seen. Seymour listened to the men argue. “You’re a bloody idiot, McTavish, to think the low road, which meanders will get you there the fastest.” “ Whom are you calling a bloody idiot, McClaren?” “Only an idiot would take the high road which is rocky and requires some difficult climbing.” “I tell you this then” McClaren yelled. “We will never get there by standing around arguing” McTavish nodded in agreement. McTavish then revealed that he had a plan. He said “Mclaren, you take the high road and I will take the low road and I will get to Scott’s Land before you.” “Agreed” was McClaren’s response and they set off on different paths. Seymour had been listening intensely and realized what good fortune had befallen him.


He had stumbled upon three valuable pieces of information that could be of tremendous benefit to this nun lost in the wilderness. First there was a place called Scott’s Land where he could rest and possibly eat. Second, it didn’t matter which road he took, high or low, as they both took you to Scott’s Land. Third, the inhabitants of the place wore dresses so he would fit right in and move about unnoticed. Seymour, pleased with himself, jumped straight up and clapped his hands over his head and shouted “Way to go!”


Two hours passed as Sister Seymour argued with himself as to which was the better road to take to Scott’s Land. High or low. He wished he had a coin. He decided on rock, paper, scissors as a means of breaking the deadlock. It was a tie every time. It was proof that the left hand DOES know what the right hand is doing. Stalemate. It was getting late and Seymour knew he had to break the stalemate so as not to get caught in the woods where the old Chinese lady had once told him that there were lions and tigers and bears. Sister Seymour remembers saying “Oh, my.” He then looked to heaven for Devine guidance at which moment he was hit in the eye by bird poop. It was a sign from His Undeniable Majestic Presence. Seymour recited the mantra he had learned at the convent that covers this exact situation. “Birdie, birdie in the sky. Dropped some whitewash in my eye. I am a big boy, I won’t cry. I am just thankful to His Undeniable Majestic Presence that cows don’t fly, Amen.” The choice was clear. The low road it was.


The low road actually seemed to be the best choice as it was a treed lane with a wide lake to the right. Lots of cover so it was a cool walk. Also the low road was an opportunity to drink the fresh lake water and observe the fishermen on the lake in their small boats. Such was the pastoral scene that Sister Seymour would hike his dress up and just plop down for a moment of reflection. He observed that along this path were many interesting fruits all of which were most probably edible. Seymour observed the wide variety of animals and birds as well as the plants and trees. It was really quite beautiful and nothing like the living hell described to him by Mother Inferior. There was much to see and explore so Sister Seymour got up and started back down the low road toward Scott’s Land.


After about an hour of walking he noticed someone coming toward him from the opposite direction. Seymour thought the man looked familiar and soon realized that it was the fellow called McTavish. Had he already been to Scott’s Land and now was returning? If so this was good news as it meant the distance was shorter than he had imagined. However, upon closer inspection Seymour could see that McTavish was not a happy camper. He had an angry and frustrated look on his face and was mumbling. McTavish then looked up and right at Sister Seymour and stopped in his tracks. He had a look of surprise which seemed to turn to a look of astonishment then back to a look of surprise. He stood there staring at Seymour and appeared to be searching for the right words. Seymour broke the silence “What’s the matter?” “Never saw a nun before?” McTavish looked flustered and was only able to say “Well, I’ve seen many nuns before in my life but none quite like you.” “Please explain” Seymour asked with curiosity. McTavish thought for a minute and explained “ All the nuns I have ever seen had something in common.” “That would be?” Seymour inquired. “Well, they never used a men’s room” was all McTavish could think of. Seymour, his curiosity piqued, asked “What in the world is a men’s room?” McTavish looked away and appeared to become uncomfortable with the conversation and finally blurted out “It’s where you do your business!” Seymour looked confused so McTavish continued “It’ where you urinate and the other....you know.” Seymour burst out laughing and exclaimed to McTavish “Why would I need a room for that?” “I would just use my chamber pot.” As the words left his lips, it dawned on Seymour that he had forgotten to include his chamber pot in his escape plans. It was really going to get messy. He worried. McTavish was thinking this is senseless. “I guess you come from a different sort of convent than I am familiar with” McTavish continued “So how long have you been a nun?” Seymour lifted the end of his sash and advised “You see this sash?” McTavish nodded. “Each one of these knots represents five years as a nun. There are seven knots so I have been a nun for twenty-three years.” “Well you certainly have been a nun for a long time and obviously your Order is unique from all others” McTavish said. Seymour smiled at the compliment. “All the other Orders” McTavish ventured. “Think five times seven is thirty-five . . . go figure.” “Obviously the other Orders did not have the benefit of Sister Po as a teacher” Seymour responded. McTavish inquired “What name do you go by?” “I am Sister Seymour” was the response. “OK, finally something makes sense.” Mctavish confided. “Where are you headed, Sister?” “I was going to Scott’s Land and was taking the low road.” “As was I.” Lamented McTavish. “There will be no taking the low road today I am afraid.” A clearly frustrated McTavish informed Seymour. “Why is that?” was his inquiry? “Those blasted McNulty boys have blocked the road with boulders from the high road. The side is too steep to climb and the water too deep to go around” McTavish explained with obvious rancor. “Those two are bullies and trouble makers and a problem for us all.” McTavish growled. “If I were younger, I would thrash them within an inch of their lives!” Sister Seymour did not want to backtrack and take the high road so he needed a plan. Seymour pointed to a small boat just offshore and suggested that they hail the little man in the boat and ask him to ferry them around the obstruction. McTavish said “Don’t waste your time, Sister, that’s McDonald and he is a bit of a clown and always in a hurry. He wouldn’t give us the time of day.” “What’s his problem that he is too busy to help two stranded travelers?” Asked Seymour. McTavish explained that McDonald owned a small restaurant on the edge of Scott’s Land and was having a tough go of it. The place specialized in getting you in and out very quickly and he called his food “speedy.” He wanted to open more restaurants but lacked name recognition or any thing people could identify with on their travels as his speedy food. He’s been known to dress like a clown but that hasn’t done the trick. Seymour was looking out over the lake weighing their problem.

“What would His Undeniable Majestic Presents do in this situation?” Sister Seymour, despite being a fallen nun, asked for guidance. The answer came in the form of two full rainbows of yellowish gold over the lake. It was the sign he had been waiting for. “Stay here” he told McTavish and began waving McDonald down.


McDonald saw the nun waving but indicated that he was busy and had no time. Sister Seymour was on his knees now and begging. Again McDonald pointed to his watch. Seymour then put his hands together as in prayer and that did the trick as McDonald began rowing toward the shore. He pulled up along side Seymour with a scowl on his face which turned to surprise and like McTavis to astonishment . . . He listened as the “nun” explained the situation and then shook his head no. Sister Seymour started explaining something again which resulted in McDonald indicating a yes. Seymour pointed at the interlocking rainbows and McDonald’s face lit up. McTavish could hear McDonald loudly exclaim “Bonnie idea!” Seymour called to McTavish and got into the small boat as did McTavish. They were ferried around the offending boulders and deposited on the shore once again. McDonald thanked Seymour for the suggestion and rowed off whistling a happy tune. “What suggestion?” McTavish asked. Seymour explained “I told him to drop the clown act and dress as a Leprechaun and call his restaurant “McDonald’s, Home of the Golden Rainbows.” “ He said it was just what he was looking for and so we got our boat ride.” Sister Seymour winked at his companion and silently thanked His Undeniable Majestic Presence. They continued on to Scott’s Land.