THE FIRST ACCOUNT
Well hello there dear friend. Come inside and sit a spell. You must be awful hungry having come all this way. I tell ya my Francine, well, she is about the best cook this side of the Mason/Dixon line, I tell ya what. (Stands up.) She in the kitchen right now. I'll just pop inside and let her know there'll be one more for supper. (Exits through the furthest door.)
(Returns through the same door and sets his weight against it.) That Francine of mine. (Whips out a kerchief and wipes his brow.) Why she is just tickled pink that we have a guest. (Returns to his chair.) Seems she just been possessed by the spirit and ended up making more than we could possibly eat. Seems providence is smilin' on both of us this evening.
I'll tell you what. (Stuffs his kerchief in a back pocket.) Supper will be a bit yet. (Ambles over to a nearby table with decanters and glasses.) Let me just fix you up a dram that you have never had the like of, and never will again. Why? Cause this is my own secret recipe. (Fixes two drinks.) You're gonna love this. (Hands the drink to guest.) I guarantee.
(Takes a heavy swig.) Whewee! That'll put hair right on your chest, even if you be a woman. (Sits down.) Speaking of things you have never heard the like, have I got a wild yarn for you. An account if you will. That is to say, an account, of an account, of an account, of many accounts. And it was my good fortune to receive this story in the most comfortable of circumstances.
So, just sit yourself back, endure the strength of my beverage and I will regale you as my form of entertainment while we wait for supper to be finished with. And I, I shall do my best to play the storyteller and paint the pictures as vividly as if you were there yourself. There, the necessary preliminaries are out of the way, let us begin.
You see, if you will allow the indulgence of an amateur master of ceremonies, such as I am, I will present what I know to the best of my ability. As I was saying, before I so rudely interrupted myself, I was waiting in the lobby of a nicely furnished hotel, awaiting the arrival of some close friends of mine.
We had been invited to attend a dinner party, the kind of affair you dare not be late for, for fear of being blackballed in proper society. And I had just set myself down and was enjoying a most tasty bourbon, to help take the edge off mind you, when I was joined by a fellow patron who sat himself down in the chair directly across from me.
"Excuse me, my dear fellow?" the stranger began.
I roused myself from my own thoughts and gazed upon my visitor. He was a handsome, youthful sort, with a winning face and a personality that just drew you in.
"Pardon my intrusion," he excused himself before carrying on. "But I saw you sitting here by yourself, and I was wondering if you wouldn't prefer some company?"
"I wouldn't say no to some company," I spoke to the man. "But I must inform you that my time is very limited. And you will have to excuse me if I should leave quite abruptly."
He smiled at me warmly. "I thank you for your kindness," he said, as he extended his hand to me. "How do you do? My name is Jebediah, though most just call me Jeb."
I shook the hand that had been presented. "I do very well my good sir," I answered his query, before introducing myself. "My name is Ezekiel. And I'm not quite comfortable enough with you to expose my particular nickname."
"Think nothing of it, my dear sir," Jeb assured me, as he waved the matter off. "Trouble these days is, people are too trusting. Which is why it's good to know that there are still folk out there who are not given to trust so easily."
Those were the final words for a time, as neither of us seemed to have anything more to say. As such, we simply sat a while enjoying each other's company.
"Would I be correct," Jeb broke the silence. "In assuming you are the type of fellow who enjoys a truly magnificent tale?"
I took a moment as I mulled the matter over. "I do," I spoke up after several moments more of silence, while I quietly dreaded just what this man had in store for me.
"Well I haven't quite that," Jeb carried on. "All the same, I heard the most interesting story and have just been burning to tell it to someone else."
I set down my glass and gave him the full attention he desired. And if you will indulge me, I will hand the narrative to Jeb, as it were, and speak as though I were him, in as much as I know of his character. And you, should you be so inclined, would indulge me by taking my role. Thank you kindly.
THE SECOND ACCOUNT
I was sitting around in a hotel, just as you are, when a strange man approached me, just as I did to you, and he spoke to me at length.
"Par'on me dear sur? But I cou'd no' 'elp noticin' that ya alone," this individual said in a heavy accent, that I have not heard the like of before or since. "Woul' ya care for some cumpany?"
And just as you have done, I also invited him to sit and we exchanged pleasantries including our names. Mine you already know, his was Zebedhi.
"Moi t'anks dear boy," he relayed, as he set himself down, while he fashioned a pipe for his enjoyment. Once it was lit and he had taken a few delightful puffs, he returned to me. "I see you mos' sophis'ica'ed of a gen'lemen, oo no doubt enjoys only the most delightful and, well, sophis'ica'ed o stories."
I nodded in approval.
"T'en permi' me to regale ya wit' a tale," Zebedhi started in. "Tha' you will ne'er 'gin hear da like of 'gin."
How could I refuse such an invitation? And if you will permit we shall once again switch persons. I being now Zebediah and you, provided you are still willing shall become Jeb. Though, I will be dropping the accent as it does terrible things to my throat.
THE THIRD ACCOUNT
It did happen one day, while I was down in one of the small villages that dot this here landscape, that I chanced to rest myself against a sturdy looking beam. I allowed myself the time I needed to rest my weary bones and it was from this place of rest that I spied the strangest man that I will ever see.
His face was scruffy from a lack of tendance, and his clothing was soiled and coming apart. But the most peculiar thing was the manner in which he conducted himself. He stuck about mumbling to himself and twiddling about with his hands. So strange was he, that even after he had passed I was still staring.
"Have you an interest in David?" a voice spoke from behind me.
I turned round. "I'm sorry dear sir," I apologized. "But I haven't a notion of what you speak."
"That's a shame," the man admitted. "I was hoping that you were here to collect the dear, sorry soul."
"For what reason would I," I started to relay. "Or any other strange man, wish to take possession of such a queer fellow?"
"It has been a wish of the collective, proper standing men of this village," he endeavored to explain. "That the government would take an interest and rid us of this peculiarity."
"If I may be so bold," I angled in. "Why not rid yourselves of this nuisance?"
The man removed his hat and looked up. "It is a matter most delicate," he continued on. "You see it is our women folk who delight in his company and would be loathe to release him. Not to mention the matter of guilt which they feel."
"Guilt?" I pried.
"Please allow me to explain," he carried on. "As best as I am able."
I gave a nod to the man of good standing and he ushered me to a nearby table. "Though I think we should start with introductions, don't you," I suggested. "To lay the groundwork for a proper exchange."
"That would be aces with me," the man agreed. "The name is Horace." he extended his hand. "And you sir?"
"I'm given to be called Zebedhi," I finished introductions and took his hand.
Horace sat back. "It was not many years ago," he imparted his tale. "That the man whom you have seen, a one David by name, was tottering about. He was at one time an honored member of our society. The only strange thing about him then, was that he spent most of his days scribbling away on his parchment, crafting tales of a much fantastical nature. This of course, did not sit well with us men folk, as we are inclined to respect decent, hard work and not ideas of whimsy which build nothing. Still, it was this whimsy that attracted the women folk and he was often found in their company. He would delight them with such talk, as they had never heard. Full of wit and witticism. But what they truly wanted to hear was one of the many stories he crafted so often. He declined, as he never showed them to anyone. But just as Adam was seduced and transgressed because of Eve, so too was David tempted by a woman, one Adelaide by name. She did pry into his affairs. She pried and pried until at last, he was weary and gave in."
I was quite glad for him having gotten round to the point as he had no talent in relaying a captivating story.
The man took a deep breath as he continued to relay his tale. "With his defenses down, the rest of the women besought his company during an afternoon tea party. There was much chattering." At this point the man's voice cracked from dryness and he hefted a large jug to remedy the ill. "At length one of the women asked about the stories he was always scribbling down. David became very embarrassed. But the women, especially Adelaide, gave him no peace. As one, they set upon the gentleman and fairly demanded, with polite pleading, that he tell them one or two. David was indeed frightened by the prospect and refused. As these stories were dearer to him than children." The man readjusted his seat. "But the women would not be silent and they kept at it. Little by little, they wore him down, until at last, he gave in and promised to attend their next tea party, during which he read for them a most serious of stories. He put all of his heart and soul into the reading and gave it as much flare as he could muster. And with its conclusion the whole party was deathly silent. No one dared move or speak."
Though the man had no skill for the spoken word, I am forced to admit, he did have a way of charging the environment around you. And I swear to you, as impossible as it sounds, I could not hear anything during his pause.
The man took a long breath before continuing. "All at once Adalaide started to laugh. And not just a little laugh. No. A great big laugh, which she found herself unable to silence. What's more, the rest of the gals joined in and soon, everyone at the party was nearly in tears from laughing so hard, completely forgetting them were ladies. But not David. He stood there enduring the supposed ridicule, the sport they were making of so serious a telling, until he could take no more." A sudden coughing fit took hold of the storyteller and I was forced to wait with baited breath, till he could carry on. Mercifully, it was not long. "David lost all control of himself and tore his manuscript and his clothes to pieces, as he screamed like a banshee, before running off. Then were our women folk most distressed. They called after him again and again, but he would see no one. He did however, at length return, but by that time his mind was all but broken and he carried on much as he does now."
There was a long moment of silence. "Just what," I broke in. "If you don't mind my asking, set your women folk to tittering over a serious composition like that?"
The man pulled at the brim of his hat. "Well it just so happens," he let on. "That not long before the tea party, there was a most amusing incident that did occur, involving a few of the local children, and a sloppy, mud puddle. And well, it was that same incident that popped into Adelaide's head. Though she don't know why. But you know how infectious laughter can be, once one person starts in then everybody joins in. So, you can see the delicacy of the matter and why there is nothing we can do."
It was a most peculiar circumstance that I found myself in. And to be honest, I hadn't a notion of how I should react, nor what action I should take. But what I did know, is that there was nothing I could offer to this beleaguered community. As such, I simply backed away, while I offered my condolences and the hope for a most beneficial settlement to the whole affair.
THE FINAL ACCOUNT
Jeb stopped talking.
"Is that it?" I asked.
"What?" Jeb returned. "The story?"
I nodded.
"Oh, it's finished," Jeb admitted. "At least in as much as Zebedhi relayed to me."
"Well then," I countered. "Could you at least tell me where this David lives? So's, I might see to the matter for myself."
"That's just the trouble," Jeb started in. "No matter how much I scour my memory, I can't seem to recollect on the name of the place. It's a most troubling conundrum."
I sunk in my chair, defeated. I really wanted to know and yet there was no way I could.
It was just at such a time, that my guests arrived, all full of mirth and gaiety. I didn't wish to be a downer, so I put on a brave face and exited the doors, on my way to a party that promised to be a most enjoyable event. Even if my mind remained trapped by the incomplete narrative. But it is a tale I was going to relay to others, just as I have done now, for you.
And that is the sound of supper calling to us, and inviting us to a sumptuous bounty, the like of which you are sure to enjoy, yessir. Gather yourself then and leave nothing behind as we won't be coming back this way, not for a while, and with a full belly and all. Who says I'm not a good storyteller?