A shaggy dog story.

Rubecula

Minoclese ran between the pillars trying to get away from the pursuing angry mob. In truth the mob had every justification on being angry. Nobody likes a conman, especially a conman that causes such distress to so many.

His finely ground baking flour, sold to the impoverished residents, would have been filling of course, but not nutritious as most of it was collected dust from the country road he had come along a few days earlier.

His plans on catching and enslaving some of the poorer children of the community had also gone awry, when a passerby had heard whimpering from one of his large oil amphora. His entire load had been investigated and the children released. That was a loss in future funds he didn't like. He never considered it lucky that he had been away from the load at the time of the discovery.

In later times he would have been considered something of a 'dandy' with his expensive clothing and bejewelled sandals. Always looking for something extravagant to wear, to impress the ladies with, he knew nothing would be likely to impress them now, at least not here. Unless of course it was his handsome head on a pike. He pulled ahead far enough to hide briefly and take a breather.

Having already paid for his transport on a trireme, he headed at a quieter, but anxious pace, to the port. Curse these small town people, had they no concept of a business genius like him. No matter he was still far to clever to be caught here by these yokels.

He spotted the mast of the trireme and headed towards the gangplank, only to be stopped by the captain. A small argument ensued on the cost of the transportation, which due to desperation, Minioclese lost. Grudgingly handing over a small pouch containing some coins, he was allowed on board. They cast off before he went to his cabin.

A day later he was punching the rail in anger. He had lost so much in this aborted venture, and only the meagre funds he had taken in his flour con had covered the costs of his transport. Although he knew he still had his finery, he was almost penniless. But when they arrived at the next destination he would recoup his losses on the child slaves.

He was still thinking on this when Santorini blew up, throwing a vast tidal wave at the trireme. The force of the blow threw him head first through the side of the ship.

His finery was all but gone when his body washed up back at the port he had left the day before, but he at least was wearing the decoration off the front of the trireme. He was probably the first man in history to wear a Boat Eye.

(If you think I will say sorry for that awful pun, then you don't know me at all)

Agent Weebley

I liked it. Maybe he should have blown outta town in an amphibious Khar, ma* . . .

*I am assuming you are above the average boards age of 23, like this boyo.

Rubecula

Thank you for that. Not sure if that was worse than mine. So I loved it

The worse the pun the more the fun

Agent Weebley

I've been waiting for one of your stories with great antici















pation.






And you did not disappoint.

. . . and by the way, I am known as quite the punster, myself, but I try to stay away from them for the most part, as they can be quite painful in large doses . . . but I never thought to end a story with a pun . . . actually, I never wrote anything of any consequence until April 2010, or some might say . . . ever?

I wish someone would challenge hcass in The Arena, soon.

Rubecula

Thou doest mineself too great an honour.

Actually I am happy you liked that little story. I am not a good writer, but I am a great reader. The only things I have written in here are on the Oulwans and Oulfellas forum (OldGoat's little empire I believe) And the things there are all true. As I have said previously I will not transplant or otherwise copy them to here as that would constitute spamming.

The mods may wish to give a link to them, or if you are happy to search them out I suppose you can. I am trying to be careful to avoid posting something I shouldn't as I don't do well in prison.

I am toying with the idea of throwing my hat in the arena, maybe a pair of old socks too. But sadly imagination oft times fails badly.