by Treadwell » Sun Apr 26, 2009 9:46 am
"Missing children, mmph mmph?"
Earlier this afternoon, Aloisius Treadwell rocked gently by the fireplace in the main room of his toy shop, wearing that purple padded vest, long-sleeved, billowy-armed shirt, and matching trousers he usually preaches in; the accompanying robe and miter hung neatly on racks next to the entrance to the kitchen. He'd been hearing such rumors for the last day or so, and they were rumors he'd simply shrugged off. If there's a man who knows exactly how many children are in Myrken Wood, he is the one. From having had some odd mystical knowledge of such several years ago (powers long denied, now) to simply knowing where all their parents lived and how many of the little rascals were being birthed monthly as part of his role of tax collector to watching a good half a dozen play merrily across the room of toys with their parents watching tiredly, Tready knows a thing or two about children. In fact, one of his own infants rested snuggled up and sleeping, tucked into the side of the old tub's billowy belly.
"Missing children. Hmph! Next, someone will be saying I'd eaten them myself!"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium