Dargo (Treasury Of Feel-Good Stories Book 1)

Book summary

"Dargo" is a charming and humorous tale that strikes a balance between light-hearted entertainment and poignant storytelling. This fairy-tale for adults, which can also delight children, follows a lonely young man on a transformative journey. After facing a significant setback, he encounters a spirited fortune-teller who challenges him to become a hero. This delightful story not only entertains but also gently nudges its readers, young and old, towards a deeper care for the Earth. It's a magical narrative that resonates with the child in everyone.

Excerpt from Dargo (Treasury Of Feel-Good Stories Book 1)

Busy Going Nowhere

Regarding her office colleague’s proudly proffered phone pic, the lovely Lucinda enquired, "Dargo, what's it supposed to be?"

"Oh. Um, does that mean you don't like it?" replied the somewhat short, nerdish young man who sought her affections.

"This is the weirdest thing you've done yet, you know that? No, it's just as weird as your mask collection. Nothing's worse than that!"

She shot a glance at Dargo’s full-size Bela Lugosi Dracula poster; his entire cubicle was covered with off-key stuff. "Why can't you grow up?"

Abashed, Dargo didn’t answer, but again regarded the photo on his phone; the picture displayed his latest pride and joy.

"Alright, go on. I give up, Dargo. What is it?"

"It's my new sock drawer. I made it on the weekend." He beamed.

"Socks. Right.” She again regarded the small image. "And, um, what are these things, here?"

"Yeah, well I guess the pic's a bit small to show the detail. They're the drawer handles, Lucy! Got 'em online. They're really cool, you know?"

"No. I do not."

"That's just because you can't see them so good in the picture. Here, I brought one with me to show you." He fumbled in his pocket and retrieved something.

"And don't call me Lucy."

"Sorry." Dargo gently and a bit shakily placed the trés cool object into Lucinda's hand, being careful not to touch her.

"Eeeewwwww!" She hurled the hand-sized grinning skull at the wall, where it dented Dargo’s Mad Magazine Alfred poster. "It's a bone! It's real! Ick! Dargo!"

"No it's not, Lu…, Lucinda. It's only plastic, just made to look real. And, well yeah, kinda feel real too. You know, pitted, yellowed and browned…That's all."

She glared daggers at him.

Dargo desperately remarked, "It's made from corn starch, actually. Plastic's verboten. So it should be."

"You are seriously weird, you know that Dargo?" Bela grinned down at her, with that classically creepy, sweet smile—making Lucinda’s mind up for her, good and proper.

"Dargo, I've got to go. I really just came over for a cup of coffee. But seeing as I was passing, I just thought I'd peek over your partition and check on how you were doing. But I really shouldn't have. I know that now. Have a nice morning."

It didn't sound nice at all. She threw Dargo more scowls and turned to go, when she was met by the office alpha male; he of the hot and handsome variety.

"There you are, Lucinda,” the man said; his baritone deeper than the Grand Canyon. "C'mon, let's get back to work on this layout."

Her frown did a rapid 180. "Give me a minute, Jake. I'll be right back."

Jake leaned languidly on Dargo's cubicle wall, staring after Lucinda as she made her way to the ladies' room.

"Hi, Jake," Dargo greeted brightly.

Startled, Jake turned around. His face cinched as he took in the Mad poster, now complete with tear.

"You need some new décor, pal."

"Guess so," Dargo replied weakly, not catching the ridicule in Jake’s tone; Dargo was most unhappy about the damage to his cherished Alfred E Neuman poster.

"What's your name again?"

"Dargo."

"Oh yeah. How could I forget? Hey, why weren't you with the guys last night at paintball?"

"Well, I had something to do. But thanks for inviting me."

"I don't think we'll bother anymore. You never come. Just as well. You'd probably get wiped out pronto."

"Really?"

God, this guy is a dweeb, Jake mused. Aloud, he replied, "It's supposed to be a challenge, you know? Real man's stuff." Jake inhaled deeply, his fine physique expanding.

"OK, I'm back," Lucinda said cheerily. She had very obviously 'freshened' her makeup. "I'm ready."

Jake whispered something in Lucinda's ear. Her face reddened to match her lipstick, then she sauntered back to her cubicle; Mister 'tall, dark, and extremely handsome' in tow.

***

"Fernandez?" The boss’s voice boomed out from his office, not far down the passageway.

"Yes, Sir?"

"I'll see you in my office."

"Oh."

"Now."

"Alright, yes, I'll be right there."

Dargo cautiously entered the lair of doom—the office of a superior being.

"Take a seat."

Dargo considered a joke, thinking to drag the proffered chair out his boss's office. But the look emanating from Mr Fischer told him this was not the place or time for humor.

Everyone's so dreary in this place. No one laughs. Ever. If they would just laugh.

Mortimer Fischer, a small, balding man with thick, round glasses, looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

"Fernandez… Look, there's really no easy way to say this…"

"You mean I'm fired."

Fischer hadn't expected this reply. He knew he should fire the young man; but he wanted to give him a decent chance. Yes, Dargo Fernandez was an odd-ball, a real misfit. But, a decent enough sort.

"What made you say that?" Fischer asked.

"Just a feeling."

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just that, well, you don't fit in here. Not at all, and the team's output isn't up to scratch. That's only happened since you've been here and—"

Dargo hopped on the defensive. "I do my work. I've been very busy!"

"Yessss. In a fashion, but that's another thing—"

"What other thing?"

"Too slow. You're too slow, Fernandez."

"But just last week you said my creativity was—"

"Yes, I know what I said—don't keep interrupting."

Dargo could think of nothing more to interrupt with, a sick feeling pressed down on his heart.

"Anyway, look. Sorry, you are very creative. But, we have deadlines to meet. And big competitors. So, speed is something we simply have to have."

Dargo said nothing. The silence between them was more than awkward. Fischer hesitated a long moment, then continued.

"Fernandez, here’s what I'm going to do. You're not fired. Not yet. I want you to take the rest of the week off. Think very carefully about whether you really want to work here. Because we're not going to change, so you'll have to."

"But I can stay, stick around,” Dargo pleaded. "Let me try a bit harder. I ca—"

"No. Listen to what I'm saying. Listen very carefully. You’re off for a week. Without pay. Sorry, but I need that money to compensate for lost production."

Sick disappointment hung itself upon Dargo like anchor chains.

Fischer was finding this difficult. Poor kid probably would have survived back in my day, he thought to himself. But he seriously doubted the boy was ever going to make it at Fischer and Co. Express Marketing Solutions and Event Management.

"You'll have to leave us now, Fernandez. Someone will be along to escort you off the premises. And, Dargo?"

Dargo was surprised to hear his first name.

"Use the time wisely."

Dargo turned to go.

"And make sure you take down those ridiculous posters."

As Dargo slumped his way back to his cubicle, Fischer added, "Give me a call at the end of the week."