This is the original part one of my story Peon plus what was supposed to be part two. I condensed them into one because they fit so well. I know this has been long awaited. Sorry for the inconvenience of waiting.
Part I: Green Berries, Grunts, and Frogs
In a time there was a place not unlike our own. In this place there were many kingdoms each of which had its own set of rules and customs and each hated or liked each other accordingly. In one particular kingdom there lived a peon. The peon was a normal peon not standing out in any way and living up to his name, Peon, in every possible way. Peon had a normal existence. Every day he would leave his cabin and travel through the woods to cut down trees for firewood, hunt, fish, pick any berries he came across, and return to his cabin at the end of the day. He really liked berries. The problem he had was that the weather had not been conducive to berry growth this year and so no berries had grown for him to pick. Liking berries as much as he did he decided that he could not go without and so packed his gear and set out on a hike to the nearest town. Traveling through the woods Peon behaved like the average everyday normal peon he was. He hunted, he fished, he cut limbs off trees for firewood, and he thought about berries. In fact, the better part of the time he spent hiking he would think about berries. He thought of blueberries, redberries, purpleberries, orangeberries, yellowberries, blackberries, whiteberries, and even greenberries, which he new would ripen into any of the former kinds of berries. As he was thinking about berries on the third day of his journey to the nearest town to purchase berries he failed to notice two things. The first thing was that he had left the forest and was now walking down a large path, or rather a dirt road. The second was that on the dirt road headed toward him was a very fast moving mover drawn cart. Fortunately for Peon the peon in the mover drawn cart was very observant having had several points previously removed from his mover’s license. Not wanting to accidentally loose the aforementioned license due to the removal of more points he asked the movers drawing the cart to stop quickly. It is worth noting that this was impressive not because the movers stopped but that they did so quickly in compliance with the peon driver’s command. It is a well known fact throughout the kingdoms that movers possess two qualities. The first quality is supreme stupidity in every possible way. A mover can be given two instructions: stop and go. A specific direction is usually determined by which direction the mover is facing when the command is given. The second quality is supreme stubbornness, which accounts for why it was impressive that they did as the peon ordered. A mover told to hurry so that its driver can be at his desired destination on time almost always chooses its own pace. This speed is usually either so mind numbingly fast as to leave the driver retching his guts out on the pavement or so slow as to take three moons to reach a desired destination normally located a good trillionth moon walking distance away. Peon was very fortunate that the movers obeyed their driver and stopped quickly on top of his right foot. At first Peon was so absorbed in his thoughts of berries and various methods of berry preparation that he felt no pain coming from his crushed foot. The mover standing upon Peon’s right foot was more than happy to provide the necessary stimulus of licking Peon’s face with its giant slimy tongue to facilitate the proper pain response. Peon after yelling, gibbering, whimpering, and attempting to dance in place with one free foot, set about to telling the movers to move off his foot in the opposite direction as forwards. As previously mentioned movers only know two commands and reverse was not one of them. Realizing that the movers were uncooperative or simply too stupid to move to a location more suitable for his comfort Peon irritably asked the driver to help. The peon driving the cart stared blankly at Peon for a moment before stepping down from the cart and moving to search it for something useful in removing movers from peon feet. The peon rummaging through the cart found the only tool useful for removing the movers and walked to Peon to set about freeing him. This did not agree with Peon’s desired possible courses of action at all. The tool considered the only useful tool for freeing a peon’s foot from that of a mover was an exceptionally sharp axe. Seeing the peon brandishing this axe was not at all reassuring in that there was no possibility that it would be used on the offending mover. Such an axe would most certainly be used upon Peon’s foot as the peon with the axe deemed it easier to replace than a useful mover if movers could be said to be useful. As the peon came within a suitable cutting distance and began to raise the exceptionally sharp axe Peon took the only course of action he could think of. He punched the peon square in the jaw as hard as he could and watched his eyes roll up into his head. This is not what actually happened. Peon’s attack on the axe-wielding peon did not result in the desired result of unconsciousness for that peon. Instead the peon staggered backward tripped over a rock and fell over the embankment several feet into the ditch by the side of the road. After several infinitesimally small and yet infinitely long seeming parts of a moon Peon came to the conclusion that the axe wielding peon in the ditch was not going to come back up the bank and somewhat angrily resume his work of cutting off parts of Peon. Peon returned his thoughts to the problem at hand or rather at foot. The mover still standing on Peon’s foot showed no sign of moving anytime in the next three moons. Peon was thinking of a way to move the mover off his foot when a magnificent transporter drawn carriage trundled passed him. For a few more infinitesimally small yet infinitely long seeming parts of a moon he was too stunned by the beauty of the carriage to say anything. Then coming to his senses he began yelling at the carriage to stop and help him. The carriage ignored him and continued on its way toward town. Peon decided that this annoyed him very much. For awhile after the carriage passed he continued to think of ways to convince the mover to move off his foot but none of the ideas he tried worked. Finally becoming frustrated he gave up and took his bubbler out of his pack, closed his eyes, and commenced to bubbling. The bubbles were having a relaxing effect on Peon and he had almost forgotten about that annoying carriage when he noticed he could move his right foot, although painfully. Curious as to why he could commence in this painful activity he opened his eyes. What he saw when he opened his eyes was a mover very distressed by the bubbles bubbling into its nose and that the mover had lifted its hoof off his foot in its attempts to sneeze. An instant later Peon received a front row seat to what happens when a mover sneezes. When a mover sneezes it has the unpleasant tendency to expel large quantities of mucus in an extremely messy form, which covers just about everything in an arc in front of it. The wad of mucus that hit Peon in the face and, pretty much everywhere else, made him topple over backwards on the ground where he sat for several trillionths of a moon. After coming to his senses he wiped the dripping mucus off his face and slowly stood up being careful not to put too much pressure on his crushed foot. After standing for several more trillionths of a moon he started hobbling to the edge of the embankment. He peered down the embankment to where the peon laid motionless then ever so slowly slid down to where he laid. After kicking the peon in the head three times, rather harshly as he was still sore about the whole cutting off parts of Peon thing, Peon determined that the peon was already dead from the fall. Peon then picked up the exceptionally sharp axe and after examining it determined that it was indeed an exceptionally sharp axe, a far better one than he had been carrying. Peon crawled back up the embankment to the road and began limping to town.
Upon reaching a hill overlooking the town Peon was stunned silent for several parts of a moon. Being from a rather poorly developed kingdom and living in a forest he had not seen such a large town before or in fact ever. The closest he had ever come to seeing an actual town was the tri-annual migration of woolerby. The woolerby renowned for its woolyness migrates from the northern most kingdom of Pole, through the many kingdoms, to the southern most kingdom of Pole. It is worth noting that Pole and Pole are not the same kingdom though many travelers get confused between the two. This should not be the case as the two kingdoms are entirely different. Pole has translucent ice while Pole has ice that is somewhat opaque. The other difference should the consistency of the terrain not be enough is that the inflection is different in the respective languages of the two kingdoms. As the woolerby migrate they are followed by the dewoolerbys who construct makeshift shantytowns all along the migration route. The dewoolerbys’ origins are thought to have originated from the peons of one or both of the two kingdoms who discovered that by helping the migrating woolerby the woolyness of the woolerby increases. The dewoolerby harvest the wooly of the woolerby and trade it to Pole and Pole, and any other kingdom depending on the coldness of the weather, for supplies for their next migration. Neither Pole nor Pole enjoys having woolerby and dewoolerby within its borders but tolerate their presence as a necessity. This is because it is almost worth freezing to death at either Pole or Pole to not have to wear a woolerby fur. Woolerby in addition to being exceptionally wooly are odiferous in the extreme. One traveler after wearing a woolerby fur found that his wife would no longer nag him or, in fact, stand within five hundred paces of him. His wife found that she preferred being further than five hundred paces from him and in the company of another man. Pole and Pole tolerate the odiferous presence of the woolerby and dewoolerby for one reason. This reason being that it is preferable to buy up the woolerby furs quickly than to have both the woolerby and the dewoolerby stay until the stench becomes so overwhelming that the dewoolerby can charge anything to move the herd a few lengths away from town. Peon stared at the beautifully crafted buildings in wonder. The buildings were constructed of expertly cut stone and timber. The more simple structures possessed thatched roofs while the more ornate ones had wooden or slate shingles. All of the buildings were extremely well kept and the town was surrounded by high stone walls for protection. Peon observed what appeared to be a market toward the center of the town and noted that it was extremely busy. After taking in the hustle and bustle of the lively town he proceeded with a lightened step down the hill toward the town gate. All the while, with the thought that he would soon have the delicious berries he sought stirring gently in his mind. Upon reaching the gate he filed in behind a mover cart that was being ushered through. As he passed through the gates he noted their fine craftsmanship with the detail paid to the goddess of protection at the top of the arch, her lovely gaze overlooking the travelers who entered. He was roughly thrown back out into a muddy rut created by the passing movers. Peon looked up to see a rather large brutish figure standing over him. Getting to his feet he saw that the figure was an ugly looking grunt. This was no surprise as all grunts are ugly but some are more ugly than others. As Peon’s eyes widened in surprise the uglier than average grunt approached him and began to speak.
“Well, well, what have we got here, hmm, perhaps a peon who hasn’t paid the toll yet?” grunted the grunt. As he grunted this, three other grunts surrounded Peon.
“Well peon, what do you have to pay the toll with? Or are my colleagues here going to have to show you the way back home?” he grunted.
Peon was characteristically stricken with fear and, as such, was lost fishing through the murk of his fear addled mind for an answer. Finding the wherewithal to formulate a response will take him awhile so we will leave him to collect himself and launch into a discussion on grunts. Grunts are a large brutish people who enjoy being large and brutish. They specifically enjoy being large and brutish around others who are afraid of brutishness, especially when it is combined with largeness. It is because of their subconscious need for this enjoyment that they are socializing with Peon. Unfortunately, due to a grunt’s inept social skills this socialization is often perceived by others as bullying. Bullying is exactly the way Peon perceived it, through no fault of his own, because the grunt had grunted his remarks. A study conducted at the Palladium Plateau University of the Eastern Plains determined that not all grunts can grunt. Specifically, only about thirty percent of all grunts can grunt with half of those only being able to do so intermittently. Another study proved that grunt grunting occurs most frequently when a grunt is angry. Having little else to do in the middle of the woods Peon had subscribed to Palladium magazine and was fully aware of these facts, hence his perfectly reasonable fear reaction. Now that we understand the misunderstood nature of grunts and Peon’s side of things it is only appropriate that a more sociable translation of the grunts speech be forthcoming.
Translation into Peonic of the perfectly reasonable grunt’s speech:
“It appears that this peon here has not yet paid the perfectly reasonable toll for repair and maintenance of this road, lets go collect it,” grunted the grunt reasonably.
“Greetings little buddy, do you have currency or barter to pay the perfectly reasonable toll with? Or are my colleagues and I going to have to show you the way back to my home for dinner and a night of rest? Because you may not pass without paying the toll,” he grunted in a most friendly manner.
Peon finally collecting himself after so many parts of a moon noticed the grunts advancing on him and used his recovered wits to respond to the grunt’s inquiry.
“I, uh, I have, um, some stuff … in my pack here to, um, barter with,” said Peon quickly.
The grunts stopped advancing on Peon and the uglier than average grunt considered this for a moment before responding.
“Show us,” he grunted.
Peon hurriedly emptied his pack onto the ground and backed away a few paces to let the grunts sort through his pile of belongings. The grunts set about rummaging through the pile picking over what few items Peon possessed. They sniffed at what little food he had left after his journey to town and found it was not to their liking. It is uncommon for a grunt to turn down food whether it is the finely prepared cuisine of a king’s palace or the stale lumps of goo from Peon’s pack. Peon thought that this was not a good sign in regards to his chances of surviving his encounter with the grunts. As it turns out, the grunts simply were not hungry (who would have thought?). A grunt picked up Peon’s bubbler and after examining it tossed it to him. Peon found a rock nearby, sat down on it, and began bubbling as the grunts continued digging through the pile of his stuff. He watched as they examined his fire starter, his extra set of clothing, his Furgy Frog, and a really nice rope he had found useful on occasions when he wanted to climb something. They threw all of these into a pile behind them without so much as a sound except to laugh at him when they found the Furgy Frog. Then the uglier than average grunt picked up the exceptionally sharp axe and advanced toward Peon with the other grunts following a pace or two behind him.
It is worth explaining what a Furgy Frog is so that one can understand why a grunt would find the fact that Peon was carrying one funny. In a time about two-hundred new moons ago there was a Countess named Furgy Urn Frugal. This countess was unfortunate enough to run afoul of a wizard who was wizzing in the woods near her tower. Being rather ruffled at this intrusion on his wizzing he laid a curse upon her turning her into a frog. If you know anything at all about wizards, spellcasting, or curses then you can figure out that this wizard was not very imaginative because this curse had been done so many times before. In fact, if he had had any imagination at all he would have realized that he was likely to be caught doing his wizzing that close to the countess’s tower. Unfortunately, this kind of misunderstanding can happen when one is unimaginative or in non-wizard speak when one doesn’t have brains. The Countess Furgy Urn Frugal spent quite a few years as a frog in a pond in the forest near her tower. Eventually some of her staff at the tower did go search for her when they stopped receiving their paychecks from the tower treasury but failing to find her or receive continued compensation for their services they left to find other employment. A concerned citizen of the overactive variety might find the staff’s behavior cold and uncaring, but I assure you this is not the case. The staff was doing their jobs properly. Whenever the countess wanted something she was to ring a small silver bell she carried with her and the required item or service would be provided for her. Since she never rang the bell after her transformation it was understood that she did not require any service. This protocol had been arranged by the tower treasurer who was also a close advisor to the Countess. It served them both well because the Countess did not like to be annoyed by her staff constantly checking to see that she had everything she wanted and her treasurer did not like being interrupted by the complaining Countess while he was spending her money. In a way, the Countess should be grateful to the treasurer for spending all her money because it is the only reason anyone came looking for her in the first place. One might wonder why the Countess never hopped toward her tower for help. This quandary is easily settled by two things the first being frogs do not like being away from water. The second being the chef on her staff had served frog legs on occasion and unlike the wizard she was very imaginative. One day as the countess was sitting on a lily pad in the pond she heard the unexpected sound of someone moving toward her in the woods. After a few short parts of a moon a boy of about the age of fourteen entered the clearing around the pond. He carried a fishing pole and a bucket of worms and beetles. He set about baiting his hook, casting his line, and waiting for some fish to bite. The countess decided that she should try and get him to help her though she didn’t know how he was going to convince a person of noble status to kiss her. She hopped off the lily pad, swam to shore, hopped up to the boy, and spoke. The boy promptly dropped his pole, jumped up, screamed, and ran away into the woods. The Countess sat, stunned, on the shore because she had not expected the boy to be frightened and because she had not spoken since she had been transformed many new moons ago. While not impossible it is rather uncommon to encounter a talking frog hence the boy’s reaction. After she recovered herself from her thoughts she decided that next time someone happened by the pond she would stay hidden so she could explain her problem before revealing herself. She then decided it was time for lunch and took advantage of the worms and beetles the boy had brought with him as bait. Several cycles of a moon after the boy fled from the pond another person came upon the pond. This time, as luck would have it, the stranger was a Prince who had decided the clearing near the pond would be a perfect place to rest before continuing on his travels. The Countess hid in a stand of cattails near the edge of the pond and addressed the stranger.
“Good Evening dear sir, I was wondering if you might be so kind as to assist me with a matter of some importance,” She said.
Somewhat startled the Prince looked around for the source of the melodious voice that had spoken to him and said, “Fair lady I would be pleased to offer what assistance I can but would you be so kind as to show yourself that I may see the beauty that is so present in your voice.”
The Countess considered whether or not it was the right moment to reveal herself and decided to play it safe and wait. “But dear sir I don’t even know your name,” she said.
“I am Prince Thavion Treehugger, my lady, and what may I ask is your name?” Inquired the Prince bowing sweepingly around the clearing.
“I am the Countess Furgy Urn Frugal,” she said.
“It is a pleasure to meet you wherever it is you may be. Would you not step out so that I may lay eyes upon your beauty and that we may discuss further this matter of importance to you?” he said again looking around the clearing.
At this the Countess hopped out of the stand of cattails into the clearing. The Prince while scanning the clearing for the Countess spotted a frog that had hopped up to him out of a stand of cattails. He quickly ran it through with the pins he carried and set about to do a wonderful job of magical taxidermy. It so happens that Prince Thavion Treehugger was from a kingdom to the west that was fond of preserving nature in all its forms. They had developed a method by which all natural creatures could be preserved almost indefinitely by stuffing them and charging them with magical energy. After finishing his marvelous job of magical taxidermy the Prince looked up from his work and remembered the Countess.
“My apologies for being so forgetful Countess but I am always so absorbed in my work. If you would but step out and speak with me I am sure that I can help you with whatever it is that you need,” said the Prince.
“Mmmmm huuhhhhh uhhhhh mmmmuhhhherrr uuuuuuhhhhherrrrr” screamed the Countess through the stitches in her mouth.
The Prince looked down and seeing that it was his recently taxidermied frog trying to speak to him promptly had a coronary and died. Although the people of the Prince’s kingdom made sure to stitch up the mouths of their magically taxidermied animals so that they did not eat each other no such constraints were put upon the Prince. He was unfortunate enough to dine upon steak every day of his life and this is how he ended up being struck down in his prime by his work. The Countess, although still as alive and well as a magically taxidermied frog can be, was in a bind. She was still pinned to the ground by the Prince’s taxidermy equipment and was unable to free herself. She struggled until nightfall and then watched a large white moon rise overhead. The Countess learned later that night that magically taxidermied frogs do not sleep and so began to hum various tunes to keep herself occupied. About ten to twenty new moons later a woodsman found the clearing while cutting down the brush that had grown up around the pond. While pausing in cutting down the brush he heard what sounded like humming coming from some tall grass near the pond. He proceeded to investigate and found it was coming from a stuffed frog pinned to the ground next to a skeleton. He unpinned the humming frog and stuffed it in his backpack thinking it would make a good present for his daughter. He looked at the skeleton for a short time then kicked some dirt over it and finished clearing the brush before heading home. He would have gone and gotten some help in burying the skeleton properly had he not remembered some advice from his father. The advice was along the lines of “its best not to get involved in such things”. It was just as well that he left the Prince’s remains in the clearing because had they been properly interred in the Treehugger’s crypt they would have been desecrated. The Treehuggers while doing their very best to preserve nature created many enemies in their attempts to do so. The main reason for this was that while the Countess Furgy Urn Frugal was the first person turned into a frog to be taxidermied by a Treehugger she was not the last. This unfortunate event happened to many people of noble birth and came to an end when a Treehugger taxidermied a wizard. This wizard had temporarily transformed himself into a ferret in order to retrieve a magic ring he had dropped down a hole. Upon retrieving his ring and sticking his head out of the hole he found himself grabbed by a Treehugger chloroformed and taxidermied before he could say a word. After waking in the Treehugger’s castle he removed the stitches from his mouth with the ferret’s rather dexterous paws and proceeded to transform himself back into his wizardly form. Then he magically removed the stitches from the mouths of the other animals. He was rather astounded when many of these animals started to thank him in courtly voices. After the transformed nobles thanked him and explained to him what had happened he cast spells transforming them back into their noble selves. The rather angry nobles led by a very angry wizard set about lighting fire to and pillaging the Treehugger estate while the Treehuggers fled in panic. After this incident the nobles led a vicious public relations campaign against the Treehuggers, which is why Treehuggers have a bad reputation to this very day. When the woodsman returned home to his family he kissed his wife and gave the humming stuffed frog to his daughter. The woodsman’s daughter was thrilled to have been given such a wonderful present. The next day she showed off her humming stuffed frog to all her friends. The Countess was not pleased by this turn of events because even though there were plenty of people around to help her she could not ask for help and she did not enjoy being poked and prodded by a bunch of children. She had also discovered while in the woodsman’s pack she could not move even though she was no longer pinned to the ground. At first she thought it was because she hadn’t tried to move in so many moons but after many days she came to realize that it was because the magic charge the Prince had imbued her with was mostly used up. After much humming and a new moon or so later luck finally smiled upon the Countess. The woodsman’s daughter, some many parts of a moon ago, had started to take sewing lessons from a local seamstress. The lesson she received this day was on the proper removal of stitches. While she was practicing the craft it occurred to her that she could put her newly acquired knowledge to practical use. She had always disliked the nasty stitches on her humming stuffed frog’s lips so she decided to remove them. After removing the stitches she set her supplies down and held her humming stuffed frog up to admire her work. The Countess having had the stitches finally removed from her lips decided to give asking for help a try.
“Little girl would you be so kind as to fetch your parents so that I may discuss with them some problems I believe they could assist me with,” the Countess croaked out. The croaking having less to do with her being a frog than her throat being dry from the many moons worth of humming.
“Who are you calling little?! I’m fourteen! Don’t you think you could ask me for help? No, of course not. You people are all the same you think just because I’m a girl and taking sewing lessons I’m not worth asking for help! Well I’ve got news for you froggy I’m not … I … ahhhhhhhh!” said the woodsman’s daughter screaming and dropping her talking stuffed frog.
The Countess made a ploofing sound as she hit the floor. “Would you mind not dropping me on the floor when I’m trying to talk to you?”
“Ya … Ya … You … You can talk?” stammered the woodsman’s daughter.
“Of course I can. I thought we already established that. Now would you mind fetching someone who might be able to help a talking frog?” replied the Countess.
“Uh, I think I should go get Miss O’Hara,” said the woodsman’s daughter who quickly ran into the other room to fetch the seamstress.
Miss O’Hara, the seamstress, was less than impressed by the girl’s story of a talking stuffed frog but decided that she would humor her considering how much she was being paid by the woodsman to give the girl sewing lessons. When the woodsman’s daughter returned with the seamstress in tow the Countess could barely contain her enthusiasm.
“I’m telling you it can really talk! It is just over there. Ask it something you’ll see!” said the woodsman’s daughter.
Miss O’Hara walked up to the Countess and bent over to examine the frog. “So you can talk huh? Have anything good to say?” she asked.
“Indeed I do, miss. I need your help removing—“ the Countess was unable to finish her request because seamstress released a shriek that would do a banshee justice and began backing away from her rapidly. Unfortunately, the sewing supplies the woodsman’s daughter had used to remove the stitches from the Countess’ mouth were lying on the floor behind her. In her hurry to escape the talking frog, the seamstress tripped over the sewing supplies and hit her head on a nearby table knocking herself unconscious. The woodsman’s daughter rushed to her side and examined her to make sure she wasn’t dead.
The woodsman and his wife having heard the scream from the other room and ran in and saw the unconscious seamstress. While his wife and daughter tended to the seamstress as best they could the woodsman went to fetch the local healer. It was many parts of a moon later when he returned with the healer. The commotion caused by the seamstress injuring herself had caused the woodsman’s daughter to forget the Countess. During all this activity the Countess stayed silent and observant. The Countess did not wish to alarm any more of the people in the house since she needed their help. She was also aware that her ability to speak was fading with the magical charge and that she should wait for an opportune time to make her request since she might only have one more chance. The healer quickly restored the seamstress to good health and she slowly sat up. The seamstress looked around the room taking in the faces of those standing over her. Then her gaze settled on the stuffed frog and she let out a scream and began yelling angrily at the woodsman’s daughter. When the family and the healer finally calmed her down she related her story of how the woodsman’s daughter had played a horrible trick on her making her think the frog could talk and causing her to injure herself.
The woodsman’s daughter did not like being blamed for this mess and objected strongly “But my frog really can talk! Just go ask it something!”
The woodsman very skeptical of this statement nonetheless wanted to believe his daughter was not a liar. He walked over the where the Countess sat, picked her up, and examined her looking for something to indicate the stuffed frog could talk.
“Would you kindly put me down,” said the Countess. The woodsman let out a shout and dropped the Countess who landed on the floor with soft thud.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” said the frog,” I am the Countess Furgy Urn Frugal and I respectfully request your assistance in—“ and that was as far as she got because just then the healer cried out and pointed his walking stick in her direction. There was a burst of green light from the end of the stick then the Countess flew back into the wall and fell to the floor with a thunk.
The healer walked over to the woodsman’s daughter and rested his hands on her shoulders. He spoke saying, “This demonic creature shall trouble you no more my child”. Then he walked over to where the Countess lay and picked her up stuffing her in his bag of healing supplies. He slowly turned around taking in the faces of the woodsman and his family and that of the seamstress. Satisfied that he had saved them from a demonic evil he took a deep breath, let it out, smiled, and walked out the door. The woodsman, the seamstress, and his wife watched him leave stunned that they had been so close to a demonic evil and not known it. The woodsman’s daughter watched him leave stunned that her stuffed frog had been blasted into a wall and then confiscated by the local healer.
Many moons later the woodsman’s daughter set up a shop selling stuffed frogs. The town’s children seeing another useless item to make their parents spend money on bought them as fast as they could be produced. With each sale the woodsman’s daughter told the tale of the Countess Furgy Urn Frugal and that is how the stuffed frogs became known as Furgy frogs.
Peon continued to sit and bubble as the grunts advanced on him, the ugliest one carrying the exceptionally sharp axe. It was not because Peon came into possession of some courage that sat there. It was because he was frozen with fear of his certain demise and his mind had drifted off elsewhere to hide.
The uglier than average grunt stood in front of peon and spoke waving the exceptionally sharp axe at him. “You will pay the toll with this exceptionally sharp axe,”
Peon thinking he was about to die said the only thing that came to mind. “Don’t you think that is a little much?”
The grunt stopped waving the axe and squinted at Peon thinking. Then he said,“ You are right maybe we get other axe,” and pointed to the much duller axe laying on top of the pile of stuff the grunts had been rummaging through.
Peon noticing his old axe considered how much more painful it would be to be hacked into pieces by it instead of the exceptionally sharp axe. He quickly responded “No, No that is quite alright, you can have the exceptionally sharp axe. It really would be better don’t you think?”
The grunt squinted some more pondering Peon’s proposal then grunted “No we get the dull axe,” walking over to the pile and picking up Peon’s old dull axe. He walked back to Peon waving the dull axe around. When he got close Peon cringed back waiting for the blow to come.
The uglier than average grunt patted him on the shoulder and handed him a piece of paper saying, “You drive a hard bargain but the toll is not very high. The road has too many potholes.”
The uglier than average grunt and his companions walked away to harass someone else leaving Peon to stare bewildered at the paper in his hand. The paper read “Receipt: Toll Paid In Full. Please Keep For Your Records”. After sitting down on a rock to recover from his near brush with death Peon stood up and collect his belongings the grunts had piled on the ground. He then proceeded to pass through the town gates to purchase the delicious berries that had caused him so much trouble.
