The Phoenix: Part 3 – The Cook (and the Thief, His Life, and His Oeuvre)

Up on the dome it seemed that the phoenix
once more was no longer alone.
It was accompanied this time by someone whose ethics
the trio would never condone.

He went by the name of Frederick ‘Fingers’ Farrago.
He was a specialist in the art of cuisine
He claimed that this interest had saved him some time ago
from the fantasy his life had been.

There were many who regretted this development because
they felt that the cost was too high.
Frederick always cooked bird’s eggs for Frederick was
jealous of their ability to fly.

He was thought to be responsible for an extinction or two.
He seemed to regard it as fun.
It seemed that the rarer the egg in Frederick’s view
the more he desired it well done.

This dismal reputation though was known to only a few.
He was unknown to the media factions.
Though it did not take them long to work out what he was up to
then they immediately sprang into action.

“And you rejoin us here at a very exciting time!”
That was ‘Mythology’ Giles.
“Where did he get that jacket? It is simply sublime!”
– Candy, missing the point by miles.

One by one without fail each of them turned
to a story that was their lingua franca
leaving Alan and Brian and Charlie feeling they’d learned
just why the term was ‘an anchor’.

Now you would have thought the blockading policemen
would have acted to arrest this slime.
but it seemed that a royal decree from way back when
said Phoenixes were never involved in crime.

“I guess it is up to us” said Alan “to stop him but
we need a plan. We need to know how.”
“Rubbish!” declared Brian “That’s too slow. I feel it in my gut.
that the time for any action is now.”

They drew themselves up and set off with a stride
and they could not understand why
Charlie chose to stop them with his arms stretched wide,
and also with a tic in one eye.

Charlie wasn’t one known for standing quietly by
so Alan and Brian now knew
there was a factor unknown, but they could not espy
what it was Charlie knew to be true.

Fingers reached underneath then a scream rent the air
as pilferer and watchers both learnt
that the phoenix had no eggs, the nest had been bare
and Fingers had definitely been burnt.

Fingers took a familiar path as he rolled down the roof
He landed against the very same mast.
As it protested he groaned, something like “Oof!”,
then his resting place gave way at last.

But its gallant sacrifice had served to delay his fall
and, as those who were present saw,
a lorry load of mattresses had just parked against the wall
so he bounced before hitting the floor.

So as the newshounds raced to the casualty to get
a quote, probably revolving around eggs,
Alan observed “It just shows that you shouldn’t make an omelette
if you’re not prepared to break a few legs.”

So as the race continued as to how the story would break,
whether by picture or whether by text,
Alan, Brian and Charlie were the only ones to take
a good look at what happened next.

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