Buxby
When Marvin was a little boy, he had one very special friend; a rooster named Buxby. Marvin adored Buxby and took him almost everywhere with him. Buxby would even sleep in Marvin’s bed. One night, as they were getting ready to go to sleep, Marvin lay on his side, gently stroking the rooster’s long white feathers.
“I love you, Buxby,” the boy said. “I love you and I always will.” Buxby gave a small cluck in response and nestled his head into his feathers. Marvin vowed to himself that night that Buxby would always be by his side, for as long as he lived. And Marvin kept that vow. Whenever there was a milestone in Marvin’s life, significant or otherwise, you can be assured that Buxby was right there with him.
In 2004, Marvin and I were both contestants in the Nillumbik Shire Bachelor of the Year Contest. I managed to finish in twenty-seventh place but Marvin, being the eligible bachelor that he was, came in first, taking the crown. Of course, Buxby was there too. Before I could congratulate Marvin, he was taken away by the contest officials, leaving me with Buxby. After a short time, Marvin returned, with a grave look upon his face. Bewildered, I asked Marvin what happened. He informed me that he could only be Bachelor of the Year on the condition that he provided the winner’s celebratory feast. I thought this was a bit steep, but he should go for it. I would chip in too.
“There’s more,” Marvin said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “It has to be Buxby, and I have to be the one to do it, to…” he trailed off. “By snapping his neck between my buttocks!”
“That’s preposterous! They can’t make you do that!”
“It’s in the rules. If I don’t do it, I won’t be Bachelor of the Year!”
I didn’t know what Marvin’s decision would be, but I hoped he would spare Buxby.
At 6 o’clock, Marvin and I arrived at the council chambers for the feast, with Buxby in tow.
“Marvin, you don’t have to do this,” I pleaded.
“Wait out here,” Marvin said coldly. He entered the chambers and closed the door before I could say another word. I waited outside, pacing back and forth, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the door opened, and Marvin emerged. He was not smiling, his eyes were red and swollen and, more significantly, he was alone.
“Marvin, where is Buxby?” I asked. Marvin did not answer. A sensation of panic shot through my body. “Where is Buxby?” I repeated, wide-eyed. Marvin grabbed me by my shirt with both hands and pushed me up against the wall.
“Listen to me, twenty-seventh place, I am only going to say this once,” he snarled. “Don’t you ever mention that name again. Never! Do you hear?” He released his grip on me and gently smoothed out the creases on my shirt. “Never,” he echoed quietly, almost to himself.
I knew Marvin well enough to understand that this was not a request, it was a warning.
Marvin walked down the chamber passageway, leaving me wondering what had taken place behind those closed doors. As I watched him leave, I saw a trail of white feathers trickling out of his trouser leg. We didn’t speak of Buxby again, but I never forgot that look on his face, nor did I forget that he had given up that which he had loved for fleeting glory.
