Silas Scrum, the keeper of things, lived alone in a dark hole in the side of a tree. It was dank and cobwebbed. He liked it that way.
“Good morning, who are you, and what is your function?” asked Silas to a small creature on the roadside.
“Why, Mr. Scrum, what a pleasure to see you this fine day,” replied the beastie.
“Do I know you?” questioned the keeper.
“No, but I know you. I also know you live in a dump and are in dire need of a new home,” said the creature.
“Ah, a salesman. Now let me see here,” said Silas as he flipped through his book.
“Time’s a-wasting, Mr. Scrum. We’d best be on our way, or some lucky house hunter could snap up your dream home,” the creature said.
“I’m not looking for a home, and you are not in my book,” remarked the keeper.
“We won’t let a thing like that come between friends. Now about your new home,” continued the beastie.
The two went back and forth all morning. At last, Silas, the keeper of things, signed the deed to his very own hole in the wall.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you. I’ll expect full payment no later than week’s end,” the salesman said.
“Wait, you never did tell me your name,” inquired Silas.
“Bilkum Andrun,” replied the beastie as he walked away.
“Now, I understand how the villagers feel after tax day,” remarked Silas as he headed to the bank.
Folksburywoods 
Leave a comment