Roof’s Story
Peeps, you may remember from last time that I was more than a little intrigued that Roof, Birdinhand’s father, not only volunteered to pay for the scientific evaluation of Marie’s and MadMadmargo’s DNA to determine if Marie is MadMadMargo’s mother, but he also told me to spare no expense in hiring the best experts I could find to do the job.
You may also remember that alarm bells went off in my mind when Roof insisted that his DNA be tested to determine if he is MadMadMargo’s father, despite not being named by Marie as one of the Shalampaxian men she remembers having sex with. He claims that, while Marie might not remember it, he very clearly and joyfully recalls sleeping—and more than sleeping, if you get my drift—with Marie when she was here.
If you don’t remember that then you probably didn’t read my last column. If not, shame on you. Either that or you’re getting senile and you forgot. If so, you have my sympathies.
Could Roof be the man who sent a letter to MadMadMargo’s adoptive mother claiming to be MadMadMargo’s biological father? MadMadMargo thought that when her brother—the child of her adoptive parents, not a biological brother—teased her with the nickname “Hoof,” that might have had something to do with the man who wrote the letter. Could it be that she misheard or misremembered and “Hoof” was really “Roof?”
These questions swirled around inside my head until my curiosity got the better of me. I visited Roof with the hope of getting him to tell me his story. He was much more forthcoming than I thought he would be.
Roof’s account is much too interesting to risk me messing it up in the retelling. Fortunately, I had a tape recorder with me when I spoke to Roof. The following is a verbatim transcript of what he told me:
“I had sex with Marie many times in the last several months she was here. They were, by far, the most glorious experiences I had ever had, and have ever had since. My wife, Opendoor, is aware of how I feel about that and she, Paahlm love her, accepts it.
“I was devastated when Marie fled our island. Sharp pangs of lust tormented me almost constantly for months. Nonetheless, as inevitably happens, my feelings diminished somewhat over time. After a year, I still frequently had warm or, I should say, hot thoughts of Marie, but they were no longer relentless or plaguing.
“Then, on one of our extraordinarily rare calm-weather days, about four years or so—I don’t remember exactly how long—after Marie left, Paahlm blessed us with a merchant ship that passed close to our shores.
“It was my turn to take Shalampax’s one big row boat, row out to the ship, and attempt to trade for some of its foodstuffs and anything else worthwhile that I could get, as was then our custom. And, because Opendoor was not in one of her fertile periods, it was her turn to come with me and offer her body to the ship’s crew as a gesture of goodwill, as was then our custom.
“I loaded the rowboat with as many coconuts as it would hold. Opendoor and I then set off to rendezvous with the ship, where we were cordially welcomed aboard.
“When I told the ship’s captain of the purpose of our visit, he ordered that the ship come to a full stop. He offered his cabin to my wife as her temporary quarters. He then told his crew that anyone who was interested in taking up Opendoor’s offer should line up in an orderly fashion outside his cabin door, with him at the head of the line.
“I waited in the officer’s dining room while the captain finished his business with my wife. When he later joined me, I began my business with him. He was in a particularly generous mood and I was able to trade the coconuts for a large supply of food and tools.
“With our trading concluded, but Opendoor not yet finished with her business with the crew, the captain generously shared some of the ship’s rum supply with me and we entered into friendly discourse. As the rum flowed, our conversation became more wide-ranging, as alcohol is apt to induce.
“By some circuitous path that I don’t recall, he started talking about his home near New Orleans in the United States. I was somewhat familiar with New Orleans because Marie lived there at one time and she talked about it when we were together.
“He told me about a family that he was good friends with back home. This family had adopted a daughter who arrived in their home with the weirdest name he had ever heard, MadMadMargo.
“The captain went on to tell me that one day, when MadMadMargo was still an infant and he was babysitting, he changed her diapers and saw that not only did she have a unique name, but she also had the most amazing birthmark he had ever seen. According to the captain, on the upper inner thigh of MadMadMargo’s left leg was what looked like an exact silhouette of the Statue of Liberty.
“My jaw dropped involuntarily and I began to quiver intensely. The captain’s words brought back a searing memory. On a few occasions, as we laid naked together, Marie would point to my middle region and comment on my Statue of Liberty.
“At the time, no one on our island had any contact with the outside world, so I had no way of knowing what she meant. I assumed it was her cute euphemism for my erect penis. I should have known better because Marie was never shy about using either the correct anatomical name or the gutter slang for sexual body parts, but I thought nothing of it.
“However, when the captain mentioned MadMadMargo’s birthmark I instinctively realized the Marie had not been talking about my penis at all. I too have a weird-shaped birthmark on my left, inner, upper thigh.
“I’m not a man with many inhibitions, and the alcohol had stripped me of the few I had. After the captain told me about MadMadMargo’s birthmark I stood up, dropped my pants, pointed to my left, inner, upper thigh and asked the captain, ‘Did it look like this?’
“Now it was the turn of the captain to drop his jaw and shudder. ‘Yes,’ he replied, my birthmark was identical to the one he remembered seeing on baby MadMadMargo.
“I was curious about this Statue of Liberty, which I had, obviously, never seen. The captain was a very proud American. What’s more, he had a French heritage and, as the captain told me, the Statue of Liberty was a gift from the people of France to the people of the United States. To honor not only his beloved home country, but also that of his ancestors, he always carried a picture of the Statue of Liberty with him.
“The captain showed me the picture. I had to agree, the outline of the statue was very close to an exact replica of my birthmark.
“Everyone on my mother’s side of the family, male and female, as far back as my great-great-grandmother through a maternal-paternal-maternal line, had the same birthmark in the same location. This must have been a recent mutation because I ask everyone I come across in Shalampax if they have the same birthmark and, unless they are a descendent of my great-great-grandmother, the answer always comes back ‘no.’
“I have one male cousin on my mother’s side of the family. I imagine it’s possible, maybe even likely considering Marie’s sexual appetite, that he slept with Marie and fathered MadMadMargo. I also have twin uncles on my mother’s side who might have slept with Marie. Nevertheless, when I talked with the captain I had, and I still have today, an overwhelming gut-feeling that I am MadMadMargo’s biological father.
“When I heard the captain’s story, I became obsessed with making contact with my daughter.
“When Marie was here, she taught us passable spoken English, but when she left she had not gotten very far in teaching us how to write the language. Fortunately, I was able to talk the captain into writing a letter for me to his friends, MadMadMargo’s adoptive parents.
“The letter explained that I was certain that I was MadMadMargo’s biological father and I desperately wanted to talk with them about her. Because our Shalampax’s communications with the outside world back then depended entirely on chance encounters with passing ships, I could offer no thoughts on how to effect that communication assuming, of course, they were even willing to talk to me.
“Many years later, when we finally gained electronic connections to other countries, I tried to locate MadMadMargo or her adoptive parents. Unfortunately, the captain had not told me the family’s surname, so the only name I had to go on was MadMadMargo. For some reason, despite having become an adult by then, MadMadMargo was not listed in any of the records that I was able to gain access to when I called people in the United States.
“Eventually I gave up looking. That’s unfortunate because, off and on since September, 2008, she’s written a blog under her own name. If I had kept searching, I probably could have contacted her by now. However, now that, thanks to the chance encounter between Openfly and Marie, you have broken the story of MadMadMargo and her likely Shalampaxian biological father, I think I’ll wait until the proof is in before I try to speak with her.”
And that’s Roof’s story, peeps. I don’t know about you, but I’m inclined to believe that Roof is MadMadMargo’s father. The suspense is killing me, but eventually we won’t have to speculate about that.
A supply ship, which arrived a little earlier than expected, is anchored about 75 miles off Shalampax waiting for weather calm enough for it to dock safely. When that happens, Roof’s DNA sample will be sent via the ship to a reputable lab that will give us a definitive answer to the question of whether Roof fathered MadMadMargo.
This story just keeps getting more and more exciting, peeps. As I often say, stay tuned.
