Cuddled up by the fire in a woolen blanket, in a huge pink house on a tall, steep hill in a fantastically remarkable neighborhood, Neil came up with the grand idea of trying to figure out how he would design a long, crooked road so that he might one day find a wife. You might be asking: what on earth does building a crooked road have to do with finding a wife? Well, if you saw the hill, and you knew about the pink house, you might begin to understand.
Neil had always been self-conscious about the pink house. His mother, in her later years of dimentia and widow's grief, had spent her days walking down the tall hill to the town's only store to purchase a single gallon of pink paint. She would then walk back up the hill with her gallon of paint, singing old war tunes and whistling dixie, until she returned home to her two young sons. Then she would paint the house pink, upstairs and down, inside and out, one brush stroke at a time, until she ran out of paint. The next day, she would begin her routine once again-- walking, singing, painting, and drinking champagne all the while.
So- that is how the house came to be pink.
Neil's mother passed away when he turned 18, just old enough to inherit his father's grand estate. For Neil had always known that he lived in the biggest house on Sluts Hole Lane, but it wasn't until MRS. HORNEE passed away that he gained access to the 947 tons of gold bars and coins that were hidden away in the pink trunk, in the pink basement of the grand pink house.
I'm sure I don't need to tell you that most women might be offended at a dinner invitation that requests their presence at "Mr. Hornee's giant pink house on Sluts Hole Lane, by way of the mud path". (By the way, the last name is French, and is pronounced /hoor-nay/, but most Americans butcher the pronunciation and say /whore-knee/. This had always been a problem for Neil, who had the utmost respect for women, and especially his mother, Mrs. Hornee.
But, on the rare occasion that a lady might finally look beyond the surface of the pink house, and the horney host on Sluts Hole Lane, and actually accept Neil's invitation, there was no road on the tall hill to walk on or bring a carriage. It was a tall, muddy, grassy hill, and the only way up or down was to walk the trodden dirt path that Mrs. Hornee had stomped out in a zig-zag fashion (for any hill-climber or mountain-dweller knows that the only way up a steep hill is to wind your way back and forth). Mrs. Hornee had spent years walking this zig-zag path, so the foundation was well laid. However, the mud could be slippery and dangerous, and the few women who DID accept Neil Hornee's dinner invitation never made it up the hill. Sadly, one of them was even buried alive in a mudslide after a particularly heavy rainfall... The girl's parents never forgave Neil and he paid them 10 gold bars for their loss.
Now that his mother was gone and his brother was off fighting the war, it was time for Neil to find a wife. This would inevitably be a long process, but one that could easily be broken up into three steps: (1) Build a road, (2) Paint the house, and (3) Change the name of the street. Neil was certain that he could find a suitable mate if only these three obstacles were overcome. And so, he began.
In the lofty name of research, he ransacked dusty bookshelves (and braved the subsequent paper cut threat) for engineering journals and scholarly articles. He studied the road-building techniques used in the Swiss Alps and other mountain villages around the world. The library produced enough articles to keep Neil busy well into the fall. Since he cared about the production of history and literature as much as he cared about architecture and engineering, Neil made sure to consider articles from different time periods, so that he could view how engineering has adapted to surrounding circumstances. Neil figured out quickly that the limits of good taste and fiscal responsibility did not apply to him, since he was the richest man, with the biggest house, on the tallest hill in a small town, and so he began to fervently plan his extravagant new road.
He hired all of the out-of-work townsmen as masons and laborers, which made their wives and the tax collectors very happy. He even built a new public house halfway up the hill, so that weary travelers would have a place to rest halfway up the hill (after all, even with the new, state-of-the-art road, it would still take the average person two hours to walk, or one hour by carriage, since the steep angles required a slow pace). The new pub was known as the "Halfway House" and it became the most popular place in town, spawning an entire "hillside community" off to one side.
When the road was finished, Neil could finally hire painters to get rid of the awful pink decor of his house. Before, no one would take the job, since it meant walking up a mud hill with gallons of paint and supplies. But now, Neil was able to hire five upstanding gentlemen, who had the house painted grey in less than a week. They went, room by room, painting over the pink walls and pink ceilings and pink trimwork. They restored the grand mansion to its original state, just in time for Neil's grand housewarming gala.
He invited all of the townspeople and sent carriages for each "eligible bachelorette" and her family. People loved the road; they loved the pub and they loved the new paint color on Neil's house. And once he had everyone gathered in his fanciful home, he made a short speech:
"I have worked for many years to build this new road and pub, and I have gainfully employed many of my dear friends to help me. I am so happy and pleased, yet there is one thing that would truly make me happy. With the approval of all of the residents of Sluts Hole, I propose that we change the name of this fine city to something much more appropriate.... perhaps 'Queens Hollow'."
Before Neil even finished his sentence, the townsfolk roared with approval and applause!
Now that Neil's master plan had been fully realized, he was finally ready to relax and smile. How fantastic it feels to set out to do something and then DO IT!! How wonderful, the feeling of production and accomplishment, the pride in one's own work and good deeds. And how awesome to finally sit in a NOT PINK room in a NOT PINK house with NOT MUDDY feet!!!! And, as he sat and marveled at all of the beauty around him, he noticed a beauty that he had never seen before.... a beautiful young maiden, dressed in a pink gown, wearing pink satin shoes and pink ribbons in her hair.
Neil had spent his entire life loathing the color pink, and now, here stood a vision to behold-- the woman of his dreams-- doused in pink from head to toe. He approached her and their eyes met. If there was ever such a thing as "love at first sight", this was IT. He bowed gracefully and introduced himself. She curtsied and blushed as he asked for her name.
"Why," she replied, "don't you recognize me?" I've worked in your house as a chambermaid for five years; I used to help your mother up and down the hill to fetch her paint... I cared for her up until the day she died, and she often talked about how much she loved you. My name is Rose Rouge."
That is all that Neil needed to hear before falling madly in love with her on the spot. They were married less than a month later.
Sadly, the building of this grand road, combined with the weight of carts and carriages and wedding guests, triggered a weakness in the natural geographical faultline, and on the afternoon of the wedding of Neil Hornee and Rose Rouge, the earth rumbled and shook, and the giant hill (which we now know was an active volcano.... this is why the natives of centuries prior had never built a village there!) opened up and SWALLOWED the pink house and the zig-zag road, and Neil and Rose and all of their wedding party....
And all that was left was the Halfway House, which remains today.
Cheers!
