A Fractured Fairy Tale, Part Two

Lady Y and J were making a habit of it. Things had started to get weird. Lord N was never around. Here was a lonely lass with eyes that could melt any man's heart. What was a poor stall vendor to do?

J had thought that he and his one true love would whether the storms of time forever. When this idea proved to be folly, as his L was swallowed up by the Unbelievable Serpent Consumption, he resorted to what he knew best. Lots and lots of self loathing. Loads of it. Enough to kill lesser men, not that he was all that high up on the mighty man scale to begin with. He took some comfort in the fact that his liver was mightily fortified with his white trash Irish stock and his music player was chock full of madrigals that would kill men of a less melancholy state.

Every Saturday night, as his stall closed down and the market was done mercantiling for the day, he would meet Lady Y at a remote and clandestine mead house were they would not be spotted. It had been going on well over a month now, and chaste it most certainly was. Until the night when the Baron showed his face in their favorite spot, spouting platitudes and empty threats that had only warmed J's heart in the past.

"Ah young J," the Baron began, drunk and staggering in, a thin piece of drool dangling from the corner of his mouth, "what art thou doing making time with Lady Y? Art thou one big doof? Don't you know Lord N will have thoust nuts in a vice if he were to ever disocver you two making time together?"

Truthfully, J had not considered his nuts at all. They had been somewhat in the back of his mind for sometime now. In fact, he had almost forgotten he had them. These were troubling times.

"In truth, dear Baron, the Lady Y and I were only discussing new flooring for her mansion. I can get her a deal on good Pergo floors at mightily a discount."

"How about getting me a discount on a strong ale?"

It was good to see The Baron up to his old tricks.

"Everyone knows you two are making the cutie eye at each other," said the Baron mischievously. "If thou doesn't want me to spill the beans, you had better buy me a ale, and a Maker's on the rocks tut suite. That'll shut me up right and good."

J knew the Baron was only half serious. He paid for The Baron's drinks and turned to Lady Y.

"What are we doing?"

"I don't know. What are you doing?," Lady Y replied, showing her best poker face. "I'm having a drink. How about you?"

These women. They were inscrutable.

After The Baron collected his medicine, the three of them sat in silence as the jukebox played songs of longing and regret. Finally, after housing his two drinks, The Baron stood clumsily, belched and said "Give me a cigarette, you little shit."

J obliged.

The Baron clattered out the front door of the watering hole into the warm April night. Smoking one of J's cigarettes, he was out of earshot for the moment.

"We got trouble on our hands, Lady Y," J said dejectedly.

"Whatever do you mean, Master J?"

"I mean, I look forward to our talks every week. But what of Lord N? And what of you? If we were ever to be caught, my nuts would be swinging from a tree."

"Then you better find some other place for them, J."

"Why do you want to spend so much time with me? Are you really going to be buying new hardwood floors? I hear talk of great tiles from Portugal. Let me see what I can do."

"I care not for Portugese tile. All I'm interested in is this next round of Bacardi and Cokes and bourbon. How you like me now?"

"Me fancies you quite mightily."

"Thanks. You ain't so bad your own damn self."

"This can only lead to no good. Your ousting from the house of N. And my death most probably."

"But we haven't done anything bad, have we? One kiss and some lemonade, big whoop. Where does that rate on the big scale of bad shit done to others knowingly? Is it really that awful?"

"I guess not. But it still seems wrong somehow."

It was then that Lady Y kissed him forcefully on his lips. He did nothing to pull away. She slapped him playfully on the cheek. J was hooked good.

"There. Now we've done something bad. What should we do next? I tire of this remote watering hole. I'm a lady dammit, and I want the good stuff. Let's sup on pizza and Pabst. At your rent stabilized hut. I hear there are matches consisting of three point shooting and gritty zone defense being played right now on the television. Perhaps Squire Manu will do something truly out of this world. Or maybe Big Shot Bob. Let's locomote."

It was then that The Baron wondered in, farted loudly and tripped over the dog warming himself by the fire. He wasn't getting up anytime soon.