Welcome back, dear reader. Come on in. Sit right down. I'd like to tell you a story.
Come closer. There, that's it. Right there.
Once upon a time, there was a wandering minstrel. Okay, so he wasn't exactly a wandering minstrel. He was actually a poor laborer who toiled in the fields, reaping the fruits of the earth for only a pittance, loading up wagons of rich produce for the nobles of the land to enjoy.
But in his head, he was a wandering minstrel. While he toiled in the fields, he would invent stories, poems, songs, fanciful tales to deliver to breathless audiences gathered at the tavern of whatever town he was in, or even the halls of nobility and royals. In his fancies, the people who hung on his every word bought him his food, paid for his room at the inn. He always left town with enough gold in his pouch to last him for months.
For a long time, Joe the Peasant never told anyone of his secret dream of becoming Joe the Bard. You see, if he told people, they might laugh. They might mock him for his foolishness. Maybe even pelt him with veggies and tell him to get back to work. They would ridicule him into keeping with the status quo.
For many years, he kept his fanciful dreams and wild imaginings to himself. One day, while eating dinner, he choked on a piece of food and died.
The End
(roll credits)
Continue Reading
Come closer. There, that's it. Right there.
Once upon a time, there was a wandering minstrel. Okay, so he wasn't exactly a wandering minstrel. He was actually a poor laborer who toiled in the fields, reaping the fruits of the earth for only a pittance, loading up wagons of rich produce for the nobles of the land to enjoy.
But in his head, he was a wandering minstrel. While he toiled in the fields, he would invent stories, poems, songs, fanciful tales to deliver to breathless audiences gathered at the tavern of whatever town he was in, or even the halls of nobility and royals. In his fancies, the people who hung on his every word bought him his food, paid for his room at the inn. He always left town with enough gold in his pouch to last him for months.
For a long time, Joe the Peasant never told anyone of his secret dream of becoming Joe the Bard. You see, if he told people, they might laugh. They might mock him for his foolishness. Maybe even pelt him with veggies and tell him to get back to work. They would ridicule him into keeping with the status quo.
For many years, he kept his fanciful dreams and wild imaginings to himself. One day, while eating dinner, he choked on a piece of food and died.
The End
(roll credits)
