Bassist and the Beast

Chapter 43: Tales of the Old Years

"What else did that guy talk about?"

Paul asked the question as he took another bite from the apple, making sure to avoid the part that had a small bruise on it.

John, who sat across the table, pushed away his empty plate that had once had cooked meat on it and raised an eyebrow.

"Thou mean the storyteller man that I told thou of earlier?"

Paul nodded, watching as Cynthia gently poured water into his empty inanimate cup.

"Well, he was quite a crazy person, according to some people. I could definitely see why."

Cynthia turned to face John, a little confused.

"I apologize if I am interrupting, your highness, but who is this storyteller man thou art speaking of?"

John smirked a little at Cynthia's ignorance and chuckled.

"Oh, I was just telling Paul here of one of the citizens that I knew of back in that village so long ago," he responded, sounding just as cheerful as he looked.

The teapot looked down at the ancient table for a moment, searching through her memories.

"Was he... was he the same man who-"

"Yes he was," John answered before Cynthia could even finish her question.

"The same man who what?" Paul asked, now even more curious than he was earlier.

"He once went on about how another person in the village was his long lost brother because they had the same color hair or something, I cannot really remember. After one day where he broke into his house in order to get him to come home, no one heard from him for a few days."

John shook his head, snorting.

"He was found in a ditch. He was so drunk that he could not even remember who he was. He never pursued the man again after that."

"Oh..."

Paul placed his apple on the table and sighed, looking at Cynthia as she turned to face him.

"And... do you happen to have any... amazing stories to tell?"

Cynthia hopped up in the air a little, smiling widely.

"Why yes, there is this one funny little story."

Paul's cup, Julian, sprang to life and faced the teapot, curiosity clear in his eyes.

"What funny little story, mama?"

Cynthia giggled.

"One day, there was this old and rich woman who owned a small little bakery in the village. I was one of her usual customers and she did not take me to her liking because I was rather poor."

She then smiled, though a little glumly as she looked down at the table.

"I actually met my husband in that bakery. Oh bless his soul, he was a merry man."

Cynthia took in a little breath and continued.

"Anyway, one day, she was at someone's party and she was to present the large cake she had made. It was being held in a field as I watched from the distance, and I'll never forget what happened next."

Julian hopped up and down in excitement and Cynthia smiled at him.

"The cake was so big that she had to climb up onto a small platform in order to reach the top of it. Even from where I was standing amongst the trees, I could see the colors of the icing and decorations that adorned it. Apparently, she had quite a lot to drink beforehand, because I could see her wobbling."

Cynthia let out a chuckle.

"And.. what happened next?"

Paul tiled his head as Cynthia looked up at him.

"She was stumbling on the platform and... and fell right onto the cake!"

Cynthia laughed, closing her eyes as John smiled at the words.

"I bet that thou was always bringing it up with her whenever thou went to her bakery afterwards."

"A-actually," Cynthia said, steadying herself, "she quit right after that because she did not want to be humiliated! Oh my goodness, thou should hast seen it!"

Cynthia breathed in and calmed herself down.

"My husband was equally as amused as thou art, Paul. I just wish that he could hast lived to see his son."

Julian hopped up to Cynthia and snuggled up against her.

Paul smiled as he watched the pair, picking up his apple and biting into it again.

John leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"I would do just about anything for cake. Meat and fruit hast gotten old a long time ago."