Timothy Thomas was an eccentric man who rode around on a turkey. “The turkey is a noble beast and will serve as my steed,” Timothy said.
Each morning, Timothy would rise early, dress, and head to the barn. Mounting Gertrude, he would head to town. “Haste makes waste. We’ll take the forest path and arrive at ten bells,” said Timothy.
Ten was when Mrs. Oglesby put out her pastries, for which Timothy had a sweet tooth.
“I tell you, Gertrude, the woman puts magic into her pies and cakes. I can’t do without them,” Tim would say as they bobbed along the path.
After securing his sweets, Timothy stopped by the tea sommelier for a pouch of Darjeeling. Then, off home for midmorning tea and cakes.
Such was the life of Timothy Thomas Esquire, who lived near the village of Flumux. When wizards walked, the hills and dragons soared high on the evening breeze.
Such was the time of magic and miracles.
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