A long time ago there lived a funny little boy named Bart. Now, Bart wasn’t funny in the way you might find a stand-up comedian to be. No, he was the strange kind of funny. Really, he was very strange as far as the other people of his time were concerned. You see, Bart had a pet turtle. That turtle, Tim was his name, went everywhere with Bart. Bart had all his clothes tailored so that Tim would always have a special pocket or resting spot where he could sit and see whatever Bart was doing. Bart routinely talked with and to Tim, even if Tim never answered back.

Now Tim was a full-grown turtle when people started seeing Bart take him with him, and Tim was only four inches long from snout to tail tip, so he wasn’t very big. This made it easier for Bart to take him places because he was so small. The was no ignoring that Tim was with Bart because Bart would be regularly carving slices off an apple for Tim. It didn’t matter if apples were in season, somehow Bart always had an apple that he could slice and feed to Tim. Usually, Tim would only eat about a quarter of the apple before being full, and then Bart would eat the rest. Bart would often talk while he had an apple in his mouth and end up spraying some on you should you be too close. That’s why everybody in the village knew the saying, “Say it, don’t spray it!” Bart, however, didn’t pay it any mind and just kept doing it.

Bart carried a big leather-bound book with him all the time – especially when Sam had shepherd duties. You see Bart and Sam were friends, and they wanted to travel the world. Bart would open his book and they would look at the pictures inside and imagine themselves going on a journey together. The place they wanted to go to the most was in Egypt where the pyramids are.

Sam would exclaim, “I want to ride on one of those reed boats and see the crocodiles!”

Bart would reply, “We should ride camels out to the pyramids instead of taking one of the tour busses – and we should get some robes and sandals like the Egyptians wear!”

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They would go on like that for hours, daydreaming of the far-away places they would one day visit. For Sam this was a good way to pass the long boring hours he had to spend watching the sheep while they grazed in the high pasture. For Bart, this was an escape from the many books his tutor would make him study. Tim, for we mustn’t forget about him, this was his chance to play in the grass, sun himself on the big rocks, and dream of catching minnows in a pond.

The one person in the village that didn’t like Tim was the herbalist, Rolo. Rolo was a strange man who spent a lot of time in the woods and wilds around the village collecting plants and things. These many things would end up in brews and ointments that he would sell to the villagers when they were not feeling well. Rolo was not just strange, he was a little creepy, and many of the villagers would whisper to each other about how Rolo’s shadow did not fit with Rolo – and many even claimed it moved on its own. But the strangest thing is that people like Bart’s tutor, who should know better than to spread rumors, would caution the village children to never be alone with Rolo. This, of course, had the opposite effect and many of the children would play a sneaking and spying game on Rolo. Following him around in town, peeking in his windows, and fleeing with screams of terror when he would suddenly appear and start yelling at them.

I remember one little boy, Billy, even peed his pants when Rolo came scrambling out his back door with this mask of leather with large glass eyes and a great big beak like a stork on his face. I don’t remember what Rolo was screaming, but it sure scared the crap out of us to see him in that scary mask yelling like he was on fire.

What?!? Yes, Bart even had fresh apples in the winter. Where did Bart get the apples? I’m telling you a story about Tim, and you want to know where the damn apples came from. Fine. Bart’s nanny was a witch, and she had a wand made from the heart of an apple tree that would grow an apple whenever she rapped the tip three times on a table.

Now Rolo – what?! No, I’m telling a story about Tim, and I’m not going to stop and tell you a story about Bart’s nanny. Stop whining! Fine, story-time is over.