"Hard to port!" I sing out to the cabin crew,
"This is a plane!" The cabin crew chimes back
I pull down my Nifty goggles and they swing harmlessly around my neck, I take in my surroundings, and by Jove they were right! Indeed I was standing in the hanger of my very own plane. It was decked out with all the latest hi-tech, approximately 11km high to be exact.
"Well fine then, turn to the right!" I smartly sing out
"Isn't that the opposite direction to what you just said?!?"
I get distracted by a bolt that has fallen out of the wall and forget to respond.
Zamn! The bay door sizzles open and I descend onto the street. Cobblestone. A hallmark of Rome. This is curious as I don't remember Rome being on the trip itinerary. I unroll a long scroll of paper, it continues to unroll and forms a long trail behind me, not dissimilar to the train of my wedding dress.
"Nah, this list states Hamelin, so I am right and so this place must be wrong.
The world shifts, colours swirl in a blur, a cat screams and rubbish bins fall over. Suddenly the previously looming Roman forum is replaced by a stone archway with a banner reading "Hamelner Festival für Musik und Kultur mit dem berühmten Hamelner Rattenfänger"
Such a shame I can't read
And there he is, pride of place on a podium, preaching about pretenses and politics
The famed rat taker awayer
The highly sought after wind instrumentalist
The stunning fellow in his highly saturated yellow and red outfit that would surely be suitable to wear when jesting a sourly king.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin
I was shocked. I had no clue he was going to be here, some warning would have been nice. But alas alack, woe is indeed me. I had forgotten to practice my instrument!
I sprang forth like a tiger on the moon, clawing my way through the onlooking crowd like the ferocious pigeon of Zanzibar. I needed him (and not just emotionally)
"I challenge you to a duel!" I sang to him
"Nuh uh" he whispered
"What do you mean 'Nuh uh'" I operaed back
"Nuh uh" he shrugged
"Fine, we shall play by your filthy playbook then you lying scum" I jazzed in response
He whips out his long stick and blows intensely, I watch in anticipation, waiting for a sound (preferably a good one). After 20 minutes (Mitteleuropäische time) a long winding note came out and surrounded the astounded audience. The tune was that of a warm summers day, thick air that was hard to breath.
I snapped out of it. I whipped out my longer stick and blew into it. In just two seconds (Mitteleuropäische Sommer time) I started shredding, never before had anyone made this dramatic of a change, no one in my generation had made this extreme of a switch. This was not some puny ballad that some second rate kidnapper from Germany could play, this was pure art. It captivated the audience as if it was an elephant on top of another elephant on top of a lion whose father was also a lion.
I look smugly at my very much so defeated opponent (Monsieur piper). He did not look smug, in fact he did not look like anything. In fact there wasn't anything. He was gone.
"Rats" I rock into my microphone
"Correct" extrapolates the voices on the other end who I can only assume are my besties on the plane.
"Erm, What the flip does that mean?"
"The rats, they picked him up and took him, no doubt annoyed that he tried to evict them from their own town."
I can't stand this. He was my pookie bear and no one could take him away from me. He was mine. I hop, I skip, I jump, jump straight into a stall that sells pumpkins. I pocket three for later and then make for the a stable with horses in it. I had learnt my lesson as previously I had gone to a stable without horses in it. I would not be making the same mistake for a fifth time. Above the stables sat a sign that read 'Achtung: Diese Pferde haben eine Generationenfehde mit Ratten und werden diese jagen, wenn sie freigelassen werden. Sie sind nicht zu bremsen.' But that didn't seem necessary to my goal.
I leapt on the first horse I saw, and using my expert horse wrangling skills I was able to precisely locate and then follow the rats. Back home I was considered a horse whisperer and this knowledge allowed me to control the horse and coax it into travelling at lighting speeds. What can I say, I'm just too good.
There he was, up ahead, the piper of pies and lies. We were absolutely zooming, but so were the rats, they seemed unaffected by the fact that they were carrying a human. I swoop in and try to grab the pied man, but I miss, but Gerald (my stolen horse) managed to grab a rat. I leant in again, missed. Gerald now has three rats. I go again and its magnificent! in one quick motion I missed the piper and grabbed two and Gerald picked up four more rats. Gerald and I now have nine rats between us, which leaves only sixteen holding the pied piper, the rats buckle under his weight and I manage to pick the piper up.
Smooth sailing from here. Gerald tosses the rats away with a significant amount of force. We then ride across the desert towards the setting sun. Except its Germany, and only 11 in the morning. My plane lands, my nifty goggles are once again situated over my eyes and I giggle with joy. I toss the scrunkly piper into a large dish lined with pastry and filled with an assortment of fruit and or meat and then seal him off from the rest of the world.
"Two down, five to go, set our course for the land of the free, England!"
YOU ARE READING
The Pickle Dealer
HumorA thrilling and dramatic story about a man and his dedication.
