The Vein Tale Rest Stop

Nestled between fairy tales and bedtime dreams, a scholarly kingdom resided whose rulers ponder moral decisions, researching warning writings published through various creative platforms. Guarding the blurry interpretive border, performing duet duties, friendly colleagues Melody and Piper, maidens completing their claiming knowing everything assignments, kept the electricity flowing, sparking pinwheel arms energy, by blowing clean air into the civilized invention, designed to provide the community with life.

“How are the prince’s new stockings coming along?” Melody inquired.

Pulling strings, woven with a few flaxes attached, Piper answered back, “they are making progress and I am sure his royal highness’ blood issues will go straight to the nobleman’s head,”

“Heard rumors that the prince’s legs are purple,” Melody explained.

“Circulation they say,” Melody diagnosed, moving towards the one room archive exhibition display, “could use, a mind full of Sangre supply.”

“And if the prince applies our proper merchandising knitted scheme, his internal vein claret gore will travel north, clocking lightspeed body function record times,” Piper addressed.

Looking around the dark area, illuminated only by reading lamps, Melody concluded after inspecting the dimly surroundings, “perfect, simple short message, the yarn spinning machine and its connected computer dispensing fables, bringing fruitful discussions to the table.”

“Yup, and do not forget the enchanting lantern,” Piper agreed, “visitors can enter, take a look, reflect upon our statement, then buy souvenirs before leaving.”

“Right, sweet and concise,” Melody smiled, “it will open many communication gates.”

“Garbage in, garbage out,” Piper laughed, confident fictional legends win battles.

A far crawling distance from the Pub Library watering hole, Canter Berry paraded his sidekick Two Timing Trot, enduring an unknown hiking path, filled with many unwritten historical accounts.

“You are going too swiftly, for me,” asserted Two Timing Trot, despite earning a sizeable allowance, and his supervisor Canter Berry pulled back the pedestrian reigns.

“I am sorry my fine chap,” Canter Berry acknowledged, “how did you enjoy where we stayed last night?”

“You mean the ‘Pub Library’,” Two Timing Trot answered.

“Where else did we stay?”

“I truly enjoyed the pages telling folklore myths until the morning’s wee hours,” Two Timing Trot recollected, “especially the one, Guardian Star divulged,”

“Postal worker who delivers the daily mail?”

“That’s the one,” the independent troupe’s next command confirmed, “I loved the gossip rendering on why they call me Two Timing Trot.”

“And not Walk on Wanker?”

Seeing a blue flag flying above a windmill’s wooden blades, advertising tempting adventures await, encouraged the travelers, a rest stop straight ahead, and the pair heeded the hint.

Not requiring a knock, the Mystical Vein Tale Museum fantasy entry magically opened, “welcome, are you interested in sampling some small finger friendly deli cuisine and entertaining dialogue?”

“Sure am,” Two Timing Trot responded, flirting along accepting the invitation.

“Spinning yarn? How old are you?” Interceded Canter Berry.

Seductively plotting, Melody let the visitors pass, granting them access, “Piper, boys are here,”

“Come on in,” Piper voice raised, “grab some food and tea off the table, then we can parlor relax together.”

“Beautiful location,” Two Timing Trot complemented.

“And the continental serving setting means we will be back on the road quickly,” Canter Berry hurried about, hoping their next destination arrival would be soon.

Two Timing Trot collected everything removing the catering board’s latest restocking efforts while Canter Berry took a more mature route, “this is a nice rest stop.”

“We have comfortable seating,” Melody lured, and Canter Berry followed the host’s suggestion.

“I have been on my feet all day,” Canter Berry admitted finally consenting the midday siesta offer, reserving a chair.

Seconds later, plate full Two-Timing Trot joined the scene, “don’t you have enough?” Canter Berry asked.

“I could feed an army, I guess,” Two Timing Trot answered.

“Gentlemen, you both have been roaming our forest and maybe now take a few moments and,”

“We are all ears, Melody,” Two Timing Trot notified.

“Piper,” corrected the tour guides.

Like an invisible figure pressed a button, the computer and yarn machine flexed their muscle and Piper turned towards Melody expressing, “Yarnie and Sugar Byte over there have something to say,”

“And I will translate,” Melody volunteered and began spinning, “once there was a culinary chef, who loved the grade ‘A’ experience. Quicker than your controlled elegant strides, Canter Berry, he created the best entrees and earned the nickname ‘the gourmet who gallops.”

“What type of entrees?” Two-Timing Trot interrupted.

“Steaks, of course,” Piper giggled, “and he was well known for moving pounds around.”

Getting lost in the beefcake fantasy the girls were imagining; temperatures went from middle warm pink to rare, until finally ending up, well done.

“Juicy tidbits,” acknowledged Canter Berry, “and you know, hour is getting late.”

“Are you sure you want to go?” Piper asserted, “if you want to make a few bucks tomorrow, we have numerous guy things that need to be done.”

“Jobs?” Canter Berry interjected, truly wanting easy agenda items.

“It is not like we are requesting you to sing for your supper,”

“He can do that,” revealed an excited Two-Timing Trot.

Years later, Two-Timing Trot finished the grocery shopping obligations and handed Canter Berry over frozen meats, “you can grill them really good, boss,” and the shirtless lounge lizard grinned affirmatively.

“You know, we have had an increase in female seniors,” Melody reported.

“And they are purchasing useless trinkets, and bulk stocking orders, we promoted as, ‘custom designed for the prince’” Piper interjected, not letting the blood go to her head.