In 2024 I was experimenting with Dall.E.3 which is an AI image generator. I fed it some random image descriptions and it churned some interesting images in reply.
Now, my brain likes to fit words and stories to images, so the naked images nagged at me.
Before long, I knocked off a rough story outline or two to go with the images. That called for more images which called for more story outlines, and so on. I think of these outlines as rough drafts – mere sketches in the same way an artist may jot something on a napkin with a pencil before deciding whether to turn it into an oil painting.
At the time, I put some of the images and accompanying draft stories up on social media. Some day I may flesh out the drafts into something substantial. Meanwhile, I’ll gather them up here as a more permanent home than mere social media posts.
Here we go:
Sketch I: The Baron is Furious
Baron von Yorkhausen wanted to build a lily pond in his garden. Something small with one or two gold fish for the Baroness, and ceramic frog at one end burbling fresh water into the pond. Then he got carried away, as he usually does.
Now here we are, seven bridges later. See images below. It was all fine and good though, until the City sent him his water bill. The Baron is furious.
As for the Baroness, she is merely amused when the Baron’s projects run wild – she has her own excesses. She has now taken to eating her morning croissant on bridge number three and dropping crumbs into the water. It’s a gentle hint to her husband about the goldfish which he has so far forgotten to put into the river.
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Sketch II: The Baron and Unintended Consequences
Baron von Yorkhausen agreed to give out awards to children on ponies at the agricultural fair. All very cute, but what grabbed the Baron was the heavy horse pull – that competition where big draught horses drag impossible weights through the mud.
He went over to the horse owners and they grumbled, “Don’t know how much longer we can afford the big buggers. Should have sold ‘em to the glue factory years ago.”
The Baron wondered over to the big horses. After a long conversation (between the Baron and the horses, and no one knows what they said to each other), the Baron was hopelessly smitten.
The owners opened the bargaining with, “Of course, our families would never let us sell ‘em.”
After a string more lies by both sides, the owners ended up with a pile of the Baron’s pressure treated lumber, a semi-functioning dirt bike, and one of his old chain trenchers. And the Baron became owner of two giant Shire horses.
Next, in his usual over-enthusiasm, the Baron tracked down two 1820s era carriages, refurbished them, ripped up the tar on the road up to his house and cobbled it, because “things should match.”
Then one of the Baroness’s friends from high school, who is a big Hollywood something-or-other, saw the horses and carriages. So now Hollywood is filming a blockbuster historical romance on the Baron’s cobblestone driveway. All because the Baron gave out awards to pony riders at the village fair.
Well and good.
But.
Thing is, one of the Baron’s daughters and the male movie lead have been seen going for long evening walks together and coming back holding hands. The male lead, often described as reliably unreliable, is notorious for a string of disastrous, short-lived affairs with headaches and headlines, heartaches and hostility, and tears enough to green a mid-sized desert. The Baron can’t and won’t interfere – the daughter is old enough – but he’s riled. And talk all you want about unintended consequences or ripples from pebbles; the Barons says handing out awards to little children on ponies shouldn’t lead to this.
The Baroness didn’t help either. She reminisced about one of her early ill-judged flings. And smiled, dreamily.
The Baron doesn’t swear, but yesterday – at least the way they villagers tell it – yesterday he told the village to keep next year’s fair the hell away from him, because he’ll never award a prize there again.
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Sketch III: Relations with the Baron are Strained
My relations with the Baron are strained:
The Baron invited me to his 23rd annual ball. This time it was a masquerade ball. Not my thing, but we’ve known each other forever, so OK.
But then the Baron got carried away, as he usually does; the invite said guests should bring their dog(s) in matching costumes/masks.
On the night, security turned me away because I came without dog(s).
Relations with the Baron are now … strained.
PS If you read the invite to the ball more carefully than I did, the Baron had cooked up some scheme with a local animal shelter, for invitees who don’t own dogs to rent a dog for the week of the ball. Does anyone else think this is hare-brained?
PPS The Baroness and several daughters have St. Bernards, which I think are grand dogs. The youngest daughter has huskies—see the image on the Baron’s invite card. Huskies? Meh, bleh. Loud and obnoxious. As for poodles, does anyone else think poodles with overdone trims and feathers look idiotic?
