Borrow a Hand

'Can I borrow your hand?' she asked.

'Sure!' I said.

She held my hand at the wrist, wrapping it with her tiny manicured fingers. With a sudden jolt, she twisted as hard as she could.  

'What are you doing? What do you want?' I panted, holding back tears. I was, after all, with new company and had to be on my best behavior. 

'I already told you' she said, exasperated from having to explain. She did not appear to be the type of person who explains her actions to anyone at all. 'I want to borrow your hand'.

'Then tell me what you need!' I cried.

She took one quizzical look at me and muttered 'Queer. Very queer indeed. Darling can you come in here?'

A comically tall man appeared from behind the door, rushing to the Duchess's aid. I recognized him as the Duchess's husband from the enormous painting I encountered on my arrival to the palace. (Albert, who I found out later was her man/husband/slave).

'She won't let me borrow her hand.' she pouted. 'I think she must have been dropped as a baby.’ she added angrily.

I was frustrated and on the verge of tears. Nothing made sense in this world. I'd have more luck understanding animals that communicating with these people in this perplexing land.

'But I already told you, I'll help...' I started explaining defensively.

'Shhhhh, don't speak' said Albert as he violently shoved his finger down my throat. I tried to speak but gagged instead.

'Queer, very queer' he mused, exchanging silent looks with his beloved duchess. I gave up tying to speak, determined to see where this conversation was leading to.

When he finally removed his finger, I gathered my thoughts and calmly asked 'Duchess, Duke, will you kindly explain to me what 'borrowing a hand' represents in your, um, enchanting land?'

The duchess laughed heartily and said 'Why explain when I can show you! Oh darling Albert, please let me borrow your hand'.

You'd have to see what happened next in order to believe it. (If I hadn't been there I wouldn't have believed it myself.)

In a prompt fashion, Albert held his left wrist out, twisted it with his right hand once clockwise, three times counter clockwise, then tapped his pinkie on the top of his nose.

In a way you'd see an Amoebic cell split, his entire hand - wrist down - started detaching itself from his arm till it was no longer attached to his body. As gruesome as it may sound, it felt and looked very natural. The amused Duchess squealed and jumped at what I am guessing was my dumbfounded expression.

I still wonder sometimes if It was all nothing but a magic trick, a mere hallucination of a skewed reality.

I was completely enchanted and taken with the process that Albert had just shown me that I didn't notice the duchess had already taken off her hand, and replaced it with Albert's grubby (yet surprisingly slender) one.

'Is it painful?' I inquired, trying my best not to sound insulting.

'Once you get used to it, it's not so bad.' said Albert.

'But, may I inquire, why?' I asked again.

'Borrowing a hand can be very useful.' the Duchess commented.

'Why, just imagine having one hand to use for the rest of my life!' she laughed coldly. 'I wouldn't know how to paint, play the violin, garden the flower beds or even have perfectly gorgeous hands for a momentous occasion like this ball!'

'Where I come from, we live our entire lives with the hands we were born with' I explained.

'Oh how very dull indeed! You must be one misfortunate child' she said unsympathetically.

'What happens once you no longer need the hand you borrowed?' I asked.

'Why return it of course!' laughed Albert as if it was the most outlandish comment he had ever heard.

'But remember to always show gratuity to the person who lent you the hand. Once a hand is borrowed, it's irreplaceable. You have to take extra care when handling a borrowed hand. It's all about manners. Nothing accounts for bad manners'. reflected Albert rather seriously.

Albert stared off into space, seemingly lost in thought and old memories of what I'm guessing is an incident regarding an abused hand he once borrowed or lent. But I'll never know for sure. 

'Can you borrow feet?' I asked, trying to attract my company's attention.

'Why dear don't be silly.' Answered the irritated duchess.

'You can however borrow shoes. Nothing is like walking a mile in someone else's shoes' she added.

'Although, we wouldn't recommend walking for longer than a mile or two' warned Albert.

'This can be very tricky', he continued, ‘For starters, not all shoes fit, therefor it could be awfully painful walking in them. If you're not careful enough you might end up loosing your original way'.