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Pickled Peppers, Telling Time, and Buckwheat Wrestles Bear

Discussion in 'UO White Stag Inn' started by Ghost of Gramps, Sep 26, 2010.

  1. Ghost of Gramps

    Ghost of Gramps Journeyman
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    “First trip to the big city, Buckwheat. Whatcha think?” Gramps said, leading off with his walking stick along the road from Cove to Vesper.

    Buckwheat looked back, beaming from ear to ear. “Well, surely better than the urchins camp outside the walls of Trinsic. Sure glads you tooks me ins, Captain. What knows what woulda happen to me if ya hadn’ts.” Buckwheat picked up a stick, and leading the way, began picking and pecking each fence post and railing to the front of the houses along the way.

    “Nows yous remembers, der, youngins, do whats I tells ya, and alls will be fines.” Gramps paused in the middle of the road, looked both ways, seeing that they were in Bloodlands, then took a light to his pipe. After a couple of hardy puffs to work the bowl of his long stemmed pipe, he inhaled deeply, then with a look of ecstacy, crossed eyes, and a slight teeter, bellowed in exhalation, “Hmmmmmmm.”

    “Come on, Captain. Wanna get there quick- like and see da happenins!”

    “Hoo-hoo-hoooo!” Gramps muttered, slightly cross-eyed. Then he hollered, as he started plodding along again with his walking stick leading, “Gon see some happens alrights.”

    (Nows dear reader, its at this points I stop and get rights to gettins to Vesper. Whats happens on the ways to Vesper would takes too longs too tells, ands I promise to tells the tales proper ats another times. Suffices to says, it was and is a storys all its owns.)

    Slightly worn and weathered, Gramps and Buckwheats enters towns with the remainders of their goods, now having to face the throng of waylayers wantins a guides here, or some helps here. Gramps takes Buckwheats by his free hand, and says, “Stay wits me boy. Gettin’ lost here will be da end of us both surely.”

    Crossing the bridge into town proper, Buckwheat marvels at the sites. “Never seens so many people livin’ close like dis here, Captains. Must be some roach in dem somewhere.”

    Gramps looks down, puffing on his pipe, and winking. “We’ll heads down to the market, sell us this here bag of pickled peppers. We gets us a good price, maybe I have me somes entertainments.”

    “Entertainments?” Buckwheat exclaimed, yet hardly knowing what the word meant, yet excited by the sheer allure of the word. He began to skip here, then skip there. Town folk eyed them, aghast.

    Surely they were bumpkins, Gramps read on their expressions.

    “Wooo,” Gramps muttered, pointing with his walking stick. “There she be, Buckwheat. Right across dat der bridge. Vesper Market.”

    “Woooo- weee!” Buckwheat shrieked, jumping up and down. Food heavens if evers I saw ones, Captains. And I don’t remembers ever seeins ones.”

    “Now, remembers. Lets me do da talkins. And keeps close. We’ll gets our worth for these heres peppers, den enjoys some times.”

    “Sure enough, Captains.” Buckwheat replied, all of a sudden looking right as a strange phenomena caught his eye. A crowd was gathering by the dock, circling around a strange creature, that seemed like it might be a bear. A handler controlled the animal with a firm leash of chain, while a burly scoundrel of a man made audible taunts to all of the possibility to win a small amount of gold for beating the bear in a wrestling match.

    Gramps tugged on Buckwheats hand, the young boy peering over his shoulder to grasp the building suspense about the crowd.

    “Gramps!” shouted Olga from the front of the market. “Good to see you again. Brought me some of those fine peppers again?”

    “Sure, enough, Olga!” Gramps lifted the bag off his shoulders. “Best picks of da season. Had some pears, peaches, and apples, buts hads some troubles on the ways here.” Gramps then peered down at Buckwheat, then back at Olga, “This heres Buckwheat. Lives with me nows. Found hims washed up along the shore outside Blackmarsh town.’

    Olga grimaced at hearing of their plight before reaching town. Then she looked down at Buckwheat and smiled. “A good boy I am sure he is. Welcome Buckwheat!”

    “Pleasure is all mine, fer sure, Maam.” Buckwheat beamed at her, but then turned his head across the water. The crowd gathering around the bear wrestling spectacle could still be heard.

    Olga gave a backhand to a lock of stray blond, greying hair hanging over her brow. “Evenso, show us what you have. I am sure I can make your trouble worth your while.” Olga looked both ways, then back at Gramps, winking and smiling. She opened the bag, taking a sniff. “Hmmm. Wonderful,” she uttered, eyes closed in contentment. Olga then looked up at Gramps, giving a swift lift and turn of her chin in the direction of the small shed out back where the corn meal was stowed.

    The lips on Gramps pursed. His eyes grew wide. His body flushed excited. With one hand, he gently urged Buckwheat over to one side. “Now Buckwheats, “ he started, voice crackling. “I need you to wait right over there.” Gramps pointed with his walking stick toward the bridge. “Don’t goes no where, no matters what. Hear?”

    “Sure enough, Captains. Sure enough. Bear wrestlin’ should hold my attention real fine whiles you do some negotiatin.”

    Gramps patted Buckwheat on the shoulder real gentle like. “Good boy. Good boy.” Gramps shook his head, his eyes lifting skyward as she shuffled behind Olga the Farmer toward the entrance of the corn meal shed.

    (To be continued…)