Albert hummed a merry tune as he walked along the path. “What delicacies will they have in the next village?” the wolf said.
Albert was a connoisseur of sweet meat pies. It was his duty to sample every pie shop in the kingdom.
Albert’s appearance upset the locals, making his acquisitions difficult.
“Yes, I’m a wolf,” he would say, holding out his payment. “Don’t you want my money?” the wolf would say.
Albert understood that being a member of the Lupus Clan made folks nervous. “That damn Red affair; it has everyone worried we’ll eat them up,” the wolf muttered.
Grannys and little girls were something Albert had no interest in at all. “Give me a pie, and you’ll have my heart,” Albert would tell nervous bakers.
Many villages welcomed Albert with open arms, throwing parties when he arrived. His word could make or break a pieman’s reputation.
Other villages offered a cold shoulder. “Old ways die hard,” Albert was often heard to say.
“I will retire one day and buy a cottage. I’ll settle down away from cold stares and hushed curses. Until then, I enjoy the glory of the pieman’s labors,” said the wolf.
Years later, Albert finally got his cottage and a wife. She loved to bake pies, and he loved to eat them, which was a marriage made in heaven.
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