In the eyes of beholder

…(i carry it in my heart)

E.E. Cummings

Muddler found his fate when he fled from it. No, he did not think that flying in an amphibian airplane is his fate, so he fled from the Oshun Oxtra, leaving his friends behind, in front of a crowd, fled like a coward he was. Desperately trying to vanish, Muddler fretted, stepping on others' paws, tangling in hems, and tripping over tails... He stopped in the bushes at the edge of the park promenade. He glanced back. Oshun Oxtra had just took off the stage and soared into the air. The sight alone was nauseating, and he quickly turned away. Right in front of him, peering out from the same bush, was an unfamiliar little creature. And in that moment, Muddler forgot all about his shameful escape, his friends, the amphibian ship, the crowd in the park, and all the lands and seas of the world. Oh, you are beautiful, my beloved, you are beautiful! Your eyes are like buttons on the most exquisite garment, perfectly round and shiny beyond compare; your fur is like the suede of never-worn royal slippers; your ears like cyclamen petals, perched atop your head; your nose, black and gleaming, would make obsidian and shoe polish die of envy at its blackness and shine; your delicate, almond-shaped muzzle makes me think of sweets; your tail, peeking out from under your dress, is like an ivy tendril, and the golden tuft at its tip is untouched by earthly dirt. O my love, you are altogether beautiful and fair. There is no flaw nor blemish in you! At that moment, her mouth opened slightly, revealing tiny, sharp teeth, white like polished grains of rice after boiling, and even if they sank into a finger, their bite would be softer than a featherbed and sweeter than pudding. And her voice rustled like fig leaves under a cool breeze on a sweltering afternoon... "Sorry... what did you say?" Muddler asked, for he hadn’t understood a word, so stunned was he. "I said," the little creature whispered softly, "that you are very brave. To admit your weakness so openly, in front of everyone... I couldn’t have done it. I would have stayed on board, suffering, getting in the way of my friends, and making us all miserable." "With you, no one could ever be miserable," Muddler replied, surprising even himself; he felt as though he’d forgotten how to breathe, let alone speak. "For example, I feel very good with you. By the way, my name is Muddler, and Hodgkins, the one who has built the flying ship, is my uncle. I actually helped him—I painted the sides and wrote the name on it. It’s called Ocean Orchestra, but Moomin-troll says I spelled the name wrong. And I’m always dropping things, mixing things up, and forgetting stuff. Oh, and please don’t look at the pin holding my scarf together—there was a button there, but it was too nice, so I took it off for my collection. I have a whole button collection, would you like to see it? I live between the shore and Mymble’s house, in a blue coffee can–" At this point, he imagined his can, smeared with red lead paint and marked with the word POISON scrawled by the old, nasty ghost just for fun. How could he possibly take this heavenly creature there? How could he offer her his paw with dirty nails, turn his absurdly wide nose toward her, or step closer with his clumsy, sock-slipping feet? What would she think, looking at his uncombed ears, his whiskers—dark, coarse, and uneven—or his black coat with just two mismatched buttons, dusted with crumbs? What would she think when he had just listed all his flaws out loud?? But the heavenly creature said her name was Fuzzy, she liked his hat made out of a saucepan, she found his slipping socks cute, she adored coffee, and buttons–she was collecting buttons, too! But she didn’t have such a wonderful chipped three-hole button–her daisy paw touched his chest, and Muddler knew in an instant that he lost his heart but found something more, something fitting him like a button to a buttonhole. He forgot all fears and embarrassment. The world was a scary vast void anymore, it was a pretty button in his pocket. Everything made sense everything clicked into place, everything was good, he was good… Muddler swallowed hard, but the words did not come, and he just tore the chipped button off his coat and handed it to Fuzzy, with threads and a shred of fabric. If Fuzzy said she collected hearts of various muddlers he’d tear his own heart just as easy. And then she cut off one of her buttons with nail scissors, took a needle and thread from under her collar and began sewing the button right on Muddler, and he endured the pricks of the needle and could not stand the tickling of the short maiden fingers. He laughed and spun, and she laughed too, and then they ran through the bushes and along the promenade, stepped on other creatures’ tails and shoes and did not even think of feeling embarrassed. The words unthinkable yesterday came out free today. “Marry me!” He wanted to drop to one knee, but tripped over his own slipped sock and sprawled at Fuzzy’s feet. "Yes, of course," she answered and sat down on the grass next to him, but Muddler had already jumped up and dragged her to where the throne of king Daddy Jones towered above the crowd. Since the autocrat was already here, he could perform a marriage ceremony immediately! “Oh, your timing could not be worse, Our stupid subjects.” Daddy Jones shook his head, almost dropping his crown, and then looked into the deserted sea distance. “Right now, We are busy, We are watching the test flight and sailing of the ship invented by Our royal inventor. Please be patient, there will be a reception in honor of the travellers, and We will celebrate your wedding at the lunch.” Muddler and Fuzzy nodded, of course, and retreated from the throne. But the eternity before lunch was unbearable even when they busied themselves with preparations. Muddler made a ring out of his best tortoiseshell button and sent a telegram to invite Aunt Hemulen and seven thousand niblings to the wedding party, and Fuzzy made a ring out of her hottest amber button and changed into a lush pink dress, sweet like a marshmallow of a merengue, and put on a wreath of small, dry, white flowers on thin, brittle stems). The little animals exchanged rings of buttons, and when the Oshun Oxtra moored to the shore, they had already been husband and wife for an hour.