Jim the Scrufflegrog

Chapter 4

Wheezing into the ceiling above the uneven staircase he made his way down into the ebbing darkness of the taverns main room, ceremoniously kicking Jambo.

Oh I haven’t mentioned Jambo have I? Jambo was the taverns pet toaster. He had been with Sweetsalt for years, longer than he could remember. When Sweetsalt had first bought Jambo from an old crone he had been but a small two slice toaster. Now in the twilight of his years Jambo was a monstrous brushed aluminium beast, capable of toasting twelve slices of bread, two bagels and a hot cross bun all at once. He was incredibly bad tempered as far as tavern pets are concerned and also moonlighted as a doorman when the tavern grew busy on a weekstart.

Jambo replied to being kicked by belching several burnt crumbs in Sweetsalt’s direction.

After successfully hitting his target he scuttled back onto the lowest step and proceeded to fall asleep, continuing his dream of a pop tart that had been rudely interrupted moments before.

"Stupid glorified bread burner!" Placing his large bag onto the floor Sweetsalt removed his slippers and replaced them with some slippers much more suited to all possible terrains. You know the kind. Spiked at the heel and the toes protected with a thin layer of mayonnaise to prevent chafing.

Pulling the shutters down from the top of the shelves he span the combination lock to prevent any thoughts of larceny with his treasured alcohol. With one last sweeping look over his beloved tavern Sweetsalt swung the knapsack over his favourite shoulder, pulled the rusty key from behind his ear and locked the door. Realising his mistake, he unlocked the door, opened it, stepped outside, closed the door and then locked it once more.

　

Turning on a spiked heel his eyes adjusted to the light emitting from the three suns, adjusting the strap of his burden he inhaled deeply. After coughing up a troublesome fly he had just trapped in his gaping throat, he spat, sniffed deeply and proceeded to sneeze on the same intrusive fly. Thinking better of breathing Sweetsalt began the laboured descent down the gentle slope from the taverns door to the wall at the bottom of the yard.

The wall had seen better days, its favourite day had been its 14th birthday, joining walls had bought it many presents and brought it jelly and ice cream. On this day however the wall was not in the best of spirits. Sprawled on its crumbling bricks sat Jim, wide legged and wide eyed.

Noticing the glistening mound of Sweetsalt tumbling towards him Jim leapt from the wall and landed gracefully, legs together, arms held high.

"Perfect dismount" the furry acrobat said smiling. "I think even the most difficult to please of judges would have given that at least a 9. Maybe even a 10 if the wind was whistling"

Sweetsalt feigned a smile in Jim’s general direction. Before one of Sweetsalt’s mouths could begin to ask the question his brain had been burning Jim spoke again.

"I know you are wondering what could possibly be so important that you must leave your lovely tavern Master Keeper, especially so close the time of the famous fete, but rest assured this is important business. Business that is so important the dolphin kings themselves have sent word to me."

Sweetsalt gulped, the only time he had ever heard of the dolphin kings sending word to anyone was during the great war between the contact lenses and bifocals. It was indeed quite a spectacle I tell you. And now they had sent word to Jim the Scufflegrog, there surely must be something of great importance going on.

This information seemed to pacify Sweetsalt somewhat; the village fete didn’t seem quite so pressing now.

"So, we shall journey East, or West, I cant tell with that blasted weather vane of yours. It could be North. Maybe? Anyway we are heading towards that green smoke over the horizon" Jim stated whilst pointing a clawed paw towards the opposite direction of the smoke wisp. "Where is it...Oh yes, that way? Come Master Keeper, I shall tell you all you need to know whilst we walk. Oh, don’t forget your unicycle; I fear we may need that before the journey is through."

Jiggling his knapsack with a toothy grin Sweetsalt indicated he had already packed a unicycle already. "Never leave the yard without one"

Smiling in approval, Jim leaped over the crumbling wall with surprising grace for a creature comparable to a hippopotamus with more sense and fur. With one last look at his beloved tavern Sweetsalt checked the mayonnaise in his slippers, re positioned his knap sack and stepped out onto the aging track.

Rock dust swirled around the numerous legs marching their way along the track. Nesting flip flops looked down from lace strewn branches at the two travellers strolling below.

The three suns were in their element at this time. The lands were awash with warm air hushing sleepiness into its inhabitants. The clouds had moved on to drier pastures. The farmer’s crops, now sated with large droplets of orange liquid clinging to fat blue leaves, stood gently swaying in an-almost-breeze sidling through the fields. The mice and their steeds were leagues away taking refreshment at one of the many watering holes dotted around the valleys.

All around the long winding track was a sense of peace, serenity and Summer (or Spring). It was hard for Sweetsalt to imagine any cause for concern, especially one so great that the Scufflegrog had got involved, let alone the dolphin kings.

　

Further on along the lane a scarecrow stood in a field. Making eye contact with Sweetsalt the scarecrow suddenly realised its mistake. With a call of, "Sorry, wrong story!" the scarecrow jumped down from its post and ran off into the distance.

This occurrence didn’t trouble Sweetsalt. Time after time he was forever ushering dwarves, runaway princesses and trolls out of his tavern who had slipped into the pages of the wrong book. It wasn’t that Sweetsalt held prejudice against other characters, far from it, once upon a time he had even taken a beanstalk for a wife, but after a rather troublesome incident involving a goose and some goats the reminder of others was quite painful for him. As Sweetsalt gently rattled along on the ghost train of his thoughts Jim inadvertently put an obstacle on the rails by speaking.

"Now that we are on our way, or our way is on us if you prefer, I think it’s best if I fill in some of the gaps for you dear Master Keeper."

Gesturing towards a grassy knoll Jim clumsily flopped onto a tree trunk and watched Sweetsalt ease his weight into the cushion of the mound.