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A few days ago, Guy K. Wyndzon received a short letter from his Uncle – much to his surprise. Although he had told his Uncle to “keep in touch,” it had never occurred to him that he would! The letter ran as follows. Guy, Since you asked me, I send a letter. Am doing very poorly. Was going to do two hangings yesterday, but the court called them off. Downright aggravating!!!! Nice weather here. Etc. Your Uncle. Given, 8 Mar. “Well! Some letter that was!” Guy tossed it down with an amused grin. “Uncle doesn’t have an atom of patience in his composition! I wonder what was really behind those hangings?” and the young Secretary of State indulged in a bit of speculation. But he was far enough from the truth. In fact, this was more or less how it went: “Román Esteban Fontajo! You have been found guilty of a horrendous debt, amounting to 5 gold doubloons! Come with us, immediately!” “I’m not Román, sir. I’m his brother, Rialto Espada.” “Well, come with us anyways! You’re going to be hung!” The man’s eyes widened in shock. “But… but,” he stammered, “I’m not Román! I’m not in debt!” “Hang your excuses! And you too! Come along!” A pair of brawny young sailor stepped forward and dragged the hapless Rialto Espada Fontajo out into the street. “Next stop, the town barracks!” their leader – none other than Guy K. Wyndzon’s Uncle – ordered. The group marched along, headed by the fearsome Uncle and tailed by the still thoroughly bewildered Rialto Espada. “KolonialBeamster!” the Uncle bellowed upon arriving. “What outrageous names some people have,” he muttered under his breath. Then, raising his voice again – “Come out immediately! You have been found guilty of a horrendous debt, amounting to… to… hang the amount! Come with us, on the double!” A smiley-faced soldier stepped up and saluted smartly. “KolonialBeamter’s complements, sir! I’m one of his minions. What can I do for you today, sir?” “You can come with us and be hung!” exclaimed the irascible old Uncle. The soldier’s tiny eyes expanded alarmingly. “Ye-es, sir,” he stammered. “Come along!” the Uncle ejaculated, waving one of the sailors up. And so the minion joined the group as they headed out toward the beach, followed by curious glances from the passersby. Once at the beach, Guy’s Uncle leaned over onto his stick, glowering. “Do your business!” he commanded the sailors. Nothing loath, one of the sailors scampered up the nearby palm tree. The Uncle waited in grim silence while his victims looked around them in a half-disbelieving alarm. Suddenly footsteps were heard in the distance, and Guy’s Uncle whirled around, only to come face to face with two darkly clad messengers. “Who are you?” he roared. “I bring an important message!” the one dressed in a suit and necktie exclaimed breathlessly. “I have an important letter!” ejaculated the other, at the same time. The first one turned upon the other angrily. “I am bringing the important message, not you!” “No!” the other one retorted. “I have the important letter!” “No you don’t! I have it!” “No, you don’t! It’s right here!” “What?! It’s right here!” Both men seemed ready to come to loggerheads, when Guy’s Uncle interposed – “Where are you two from?” “From the court!” exclaimed the man with the necktie. “From the High Council!” exclaimed the other. “No, from the court!” “From the council!” But Guy’s Uncle interrupted again. “Well, give me the message, or the letter, or whatever it is!” The messenger of the necktie bowed low and, with a glare at his rival, presented a sealed missive. The other one bowed even lower, and with a prolonged scowl toward his competitor, presented a letter tied with a silken thread. Guy’s Uncle took the sealed missive first. He perused it carefully, and as he read his brow gathered thunder. “What… what… what… nonsense!!” He turned and threw the letter violently into the sea, stomping and scowling and muttering. The two messengers exchanged glances. “I hope he doesn’t serve the other letter the same way,” one muttered. The Uncle glanced at the cover of the letter tied with a silken thread. It was directed to Román Esteban Fontajo. He turned and tossed it to Rialto Espada, who caught it instinctively. “A letter for you,” he said gruffly. Rialto Espada looked at the address. “But I’m not Román!” “If you can get hung instead of him, you might as well as read his mail!” Guy’s Uncle exclaimed – and abruptly walked off! The sailors and messengers and prisoners looked at each other in bewilderment. “Perhaps it has something to do with that letter,” suggested one of the messengers, pointing to the soggy piece of paper floating a little ways out. One of the sailors instantly dashed in to retrieve it. Then the group huddled around the squelchy mess and tried to decipher it. “It says… ‘To something somethingzon’… I can’t read the next part, but then it says something like, ‘error in calintention’?” “Calculation,” the minion suggested. “‘Error in calculation,’” the messenger nodded. He continued, “then farther down, ‘our regrets… no hanging…’” “Wait… does that mean… we’re not supposed to be hung?!” the minion exclaimed. “Hurray!” “Some of us were never supposed to be hung in the first place,” Rialto Espada sniffed. He was still a little perturbed. “Well, all’s well that ends well!” the High Council messenger exclaimed joyfully. “Say! What’s that letter you have there about?” Rialto Espada tore it open and read, To the honorable Román Esteban Fontajo, Greetings from the illustrious High Council of Trade. Your services on behalf of the crown and the city of Nova Terreli have come under our notice. We are pleased to present you, or a friend of yours whom you might appoint, with the following offer of mayorship of the grand city of Nova Terreli. Your response is eagerly awaited. _________________Guy K. Wyndzon _________________Secretary of State And once more the group looked at each other in surprised amazement.
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"I speek liddle Eelanda. You speek me." "Well I'm relieved to find someone with a civilized tongue in his head! Listen man, that guy - Leon - he's in debt and needs to be hung by his toes from a palm tree." "Us give Lin tree?" "No! Don't give him a tree! Hang him on a tree! You know, hang!" "Haang? Me no know haang." "Yes, you do - rope, toes, up in tree - you get it!" "Wee cut off toes and put dem in tree wid rope?" "No! Just put rope around the toes and hang the rope from the tree!" "Oh - like dis?" The islander made a few elaborate moves that suggested that he had understood. "And we leave - until die?" "Do whatever you please!" The islander turned to the chief and spoke a few quick words in his native tongue. The chief responded, and the islander interpreted, "But how for?" "What for? Because he went in debt, of course!" "Debet?" "Debt - you know, when you owe someone money." "Oh? Munay?" "Oh forget it!" "Forget oh? But munay?" "No! Just - who cares why?" "Wat dat you say?" "It doesn't matter!" "But how for we put rope on toes - tree?" "For whatever reason you please!" "It will please de gods?" "It will please me! Listen, man, Leon is in debt and I've promised to hang him by his toes from a palm tree. If you don't understand that, it's just too bad. Take the blue beads and hang the guy!" The islander shrugged. He turned to the king and said, "It will please the gods." The king stroked his beard. "And the Eelanda will give us blue beads." "We will do it." The islander turned a happy face to Guy's Uncle. "Wee do it." "Very good!" --- "Let me go!" "What are you doing? Eslandola will make you rue the day you laid a hand on me! - Where are you taking me?" "Wee do a ting wid you - it please de gods." "What?!? Are you - going to - sacrifice me?!" "Wee taak you - put you in tree. Bah! You see - minnut." "Get me down from here! You have no right to hang an Eslandian citizen!" Leon kicked and wriggled, and soon found that the primitive rope wasn't very strong. "Cooom back!" roared the translator as Leon dashed away. An overview shot: And a bonus picture of the palm tree! This is my third free-build so far this month. Titus went 3 DBs in the red in January I believe, and I wasn't going to let the opportunity slip! Comments are welcome!
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