Tales from the Pub
To all my readers,
Many are the tales from our local pubs. Each establishment has stories to tell. But a pub is a pub. Aren’t all pub stories shared the same? I’ll let you be the judge of that.
It was a warm and musty Saturday afternoon in Andersen Town last week, usually a time for the locals to visit their favorite drinking establishment and share the events of the week with each other. And that’s exactly what happened.
Old Grimm’s Tavern was having a hard time keeping customers. In fact, if it lost any more, it would have to be shut down. The magic that filled the tavern in its bygone days all but disappeared. All people did was complain; there was rarely a happy ending. Today was no different. Into the Tavern walked a troll, a giant, and a wolf. They sat at the bar, ordered their regular swill, and then the complaints began.
“You know, you try to be nice and give a family discount for crossing the bridge and you get the old pass it on to the guy behind me game,” said the troll. “You know, I offer to sweeten it up, like the fee and all, to cross the bridge and they tell me ‘Oh, you don’t want me, my older brother will pay you.” Twice this happened this week. I’m still waiting for the big brother. Let’s see if he has the horns to pull the same stunt on me.”
The giant jumped in, “I know exactly what you mean. My wife is just too kind to strangers. She invites this kid in, from who knows where, feeds him, gives him a tour of the house, and the next thing I know I’m missing all my petty cash and my prize goose, that goose was the best layer I ever had. If he tries that scam again, I hope the police nab him before somebody’s bones get broken.”
“Try being a building inspector,” moaned the wolf. “You try to give advice to these piggish home builders and what do you get? Absolutely nothing. I mean, who builds a house out of just straw or sticks and expects it to pass inspection. I told them both that all it would take is a little puff to blow their houses down, which it did. I get to see the third hog next. He at least built his house out of bricks. I just hope he had the sense to make sure the chimney isn’t too wide. I hate climbing down chimneys to prove them wrong.”
And so it went. They came, they drank, they complained, and then left.
Meanwhile across town, there was “Aesop’s Tables”. This was a very popular bar. Unfortunately, the clientele there were more on the shady side of the law, still, it did well. Interestingly enough, today a trio of characters also walked into that bar. There was a goat named Billy, a boy named Jack, and a Pig named Piglittle the third. They sat down at their usual places at the bar, ordered their Jameson’s, and began to chat about their upcoming events.
“My brothers and I have a great scam going,” bragged Billy rather gruffly. “They wheedle their way across the bridge to the other side and set it up so that I’m the one that’s supposed to pay the fee to the troll for all of us. When I refuse to pay, if he’s not already shaking in his boots, seeing what a big goat I am, I just bump him off. No one is the wiser and we get that sweet-smelling grass. You know how many times we’ve pulled this off. We’ve got the law on our side too, I keep telling the judge, that mean, ugly Troll yelled at me that he’d be eaten’ us up, so it was self-defense. They should be writing stories about us. ”
Jack said, “The grass may be greener for you on the other side, but for me, the money is in the sky. I played the poor boy act twice now on this Giant lady. I swear her head is in the clouds, as well as her dumb husband. The old man knows I’m a stalker and keeps telling me I smell, but he is just too slow. It turns out he’s got a priceless Goldilocks 3 singing harp, which bears the signatures of the 3 who designed it. I plan on getting that one tonight. And if that giant tries to stop me again, he’s just axing for trouble. It’s easy to get off from the cops if you’re the little guy. I mean, would a little guy intentionally pick on a giant. It has to be the other way around.”
Piglittle just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “I tell you something boys if you want to get away with murder, just consume your victim. There’s this housing inspector that has been riding our butts about rules and regulations. My brothers’ houses weren’t up to code he says, then he blows the damn houses down to prove a point. Granted my brothers aren’t the smartest pigs in the pen, but they are my brothers. So I build this house out of brick and purposely make the chimney not conform to regs. I know from experience that if the inspector can fit down the chimney, it’s too big. So I make it wide enough and add a little silicone spray to the insides. When old wolfy decides to test its width and happens to slide down the chimney, it’s not my fault I have a vat of boiling water on the fire. We get a well-cooked meal and get rid of the evidence all in one fell swoop. No questions asked.”
They complimented each other’s plans, finished their drinks, and went on their way.
Different pubs, different stories, or were they the same stories? They sure sounded similar to me. Turns out that the three from Grimm’s Tavern never returned to Old Grimm’s. The stories that were reported pretty much made the troll, giant, and wolf, out as the bad guys. I’m sure you must have seen their obits in the newspaper. In fact, the loss of those three customers was the death knell for that Tavern. It closed for good. Villagers said it was just too old-fashioned; what people wanted were more modern atmospheres and conversations. Like I said the magic of the past was gone.
As for Aesop’s Tables, it continued to prosper, mainly due to the fact that most of the money spent there by its numerous patrons was ill-gotten. It was a place with no morals.
And that’s the honest truth or as much of it as this reporter could discern. Would I lie to you?
Respectfully submitted,
P. Nocchio, ace reporter for the Andersen Town Times
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