Telling Tales

by James Washburn

Chapter Three - The Matter of the Fence

Chapter Three

The Matter of the Fence

There was once this stallion and he was a pretty happy chap. He had a wife, two foals, and a herb garden. Unfortunately, two of those things didn’t get along. His children were always getting into the garden and tearing it up something fierce. He’d replant it, but as soon as he did, those tykes were in there again, eating everything they couldn’t uproot. In the end, he decided it was time for drastic action.

He went to the town carpenter, and told him his trouble. “What I need is something to keep the lights of my life away from the other light of my life.”

“I know just what’d work,” said the carpenter. “You need a fence to go around it. That way, you can keep the kids out and the herbs in.”

Which sounded like a fine idea. So it was agreed, the carpenter would build a fence, at a rate of one bit per metre. They measured it out at ten metres, so it came to ten bits. The stallion promised to pay the carpenter when he got back and the job was done. He was a sailor, you see, so he was away for a while, ploughing the ocean wave.

(“Damn fool,” said an earth pony in a stetson hat, sitting near El Pinko, “the plough’d only sink.”)

When he came back, he found the new fence, which was very strong and sturdy, and had kept the kids out his herb garden. All seemed well, until he went inside and found his wife slumped at the kitchen table, crying her eyes out. He rushed over and asked her what was wrong.

“It’s all your fault!” she said. “You and that ruddy fence! The carpenter’s asked for more money.”

“What? But why? We agreed, one bit per metre, he built ten metres of fence!”

“Yeah? Well, he says there’s another ten metres on the other side of the fence you didn’t pay for!”

True enough, there were two sides to the fence, each ten metres long. So the stallion, he despaired. What was he to do? So he did what he always did in trying circumstances. He went to the pub.

("Or 'bar', if you're southern," said Tales, putting just the right flavour of scorn into the word 'southern')

And while he was there, drinking away, a stranger came in. She was a unicorn, with heavy saddlebags, and she was a strange sight in an earth pony town. She wandered over to the lone stallion and sat beside him.

“It’s a terrible thing to have to drink alone,” she says. “What’s say I join you?”

So he did. The two drank together, and the stranger told him all about where she’d been, where she was going to, and after a time, the unicorn asked him, “So, what’s got you in here, drinking alone?”

And he explained. “Oh, you see it’s the carpenter. He’s as crooked as can be. He built me a fence, ten bits for ten metres, but he says there’s another ten bits on the other side of the fence I didn’t pay for, and I’m not paying twenty bits for a ten bit fence.”

The unicorn looked thoughtful. Then, she levitated a ten-bit note out of one of her saddlebags.

“You give him this, alright? It’s worth ten bits in gold, it is.”

“But that’s no good,” said the stallion, puzzled. “That’s still only ten bits.”

“Ahah, that’s where you’re wrong,” says the unicorn. “Because you see, there’s ten bits on this side, but there’s another ten bits on the other side.”

* * *

Tales had to wait a moment for the audience to get it, but soon enough, there was a ripple of laughter and groans. There was a murmur of ponies explaining the joke, and another ripple of chuckles and yet more groans.

“Oh I see!” shouted the Pink Devil, nodding knowingly.”You do it like stand-up.”

“Well, I dunno,” said Tales. “I got serious stories too.”

She frowned. “Sad stories?”

Not a sad one, then, Tales thought, but still serious. What did he know that fit the bill? Ahah! That donkey story he’d heard in Badenoughstok. Perfect.

“I got those too, but this one isn’t sad, as such. It’s just more... serious.”

Comments

[theonegalen]

These are pretty good. Keep em coming.

[Elden andel]

Ah the old practice of spoken tales. A noble a ill-practiced past time in this day and age.