The Fatous Fable of Fadoodle

I got in an argument with my parents about helping with the building work. This story helped them understand both sides of the argument with . The overarching comment is that the argument is nonsense.

The Fatous Fable of Fadoodle

                Unbeknownst to many, there exists an eighth continent named after its founder, Sir Bunk Prattle. The continent of Prattle is rather small and assumedly barren, apart from its native bird, the blue-tipped scrawl and the infamous hooey monkey. Its only volcano, Mt. Bombast has been dormant for thousands of years, and so, prior to Sir Prattle’s arrival, nothing exciting or noteworthy ever happened to have happened.
                Sir Bunk Prattle and his crew colonised the island, establishing its first country, the nation of South Tripe, hoping to go on to create its partner nations of North East and West Tripe. The capital of South Tripe is the small town of Fadoodle and this is where our story begins.

                Some hundred years after the settling of the colonists, the continent of Prattle had developed little and its largest town of Fadoodle had grown no larger. Fadoodle was a peaceful town with few notable populates. There lived the Mayor in the town hall, in charge of the general upkeep and treasury. There was the Sheriff who aided the Mayor in laying down the law and oversaw the courts and dungeon. Although in the dungeon there was only one inhabitant, a bothersome ogre. The tallest building of Fadoodle was the skytower, which was where the Wise Watcher lived. And the smallest building of Fadoodle was a nestled shop in the centre of town which house the Cobbler. The Cobbler was a peaceful young man who liked to keep himself to himself yet his trade kept him very busy all over South Tripe.
                The king, King Bull Prattle, grandson to Sir Bunk Prattle, occupied Palaver Palace within Fadoodle. Every year he undertook his annual missionary rounds supervising the creation of North East and West Tripe. And the first day after the king’s departure, the mayor and the sheriff undertook their long-awaited project of reconstructing the town’s park and replacing it with a casino. The Mayor and the Sheriff had time on their hands now that they weren’t stuck advising the King in his palace anymore, so they set about on their project, intolerably hoping to finish the task before the King’s return.
                Now the Cobbler loved Baloney park, it was his place to relax among the poppycocks and jest flowers, taking in their sweet fresh hot air. But because of the reconstruction the Mayor and Sheriff closed Baloney park and instead the Cobbler had to deal with his worries and woes in his lonely little shop. His cramped shop was so full of the cobbling equipment he needed to work around the country that sometimes mumbo jumbo was left on the roof or in the road, much to the disgust of the Mayor and Sheriff who either broke it or packed it back in through the shop window.
                During early construction of the new building, Jazz ‘n’ Jive Casino, the Mayor went round the town’s houses asking for a donation and effort to be made toward the project. When arriving at the Cobbler’s shop, he asked the Cobbler if he would like to help with the project, to which the Cobbler gave a clear and civil, “No.” But before the Cobbler could close the shop door, the Mayor asked, “Why?” To which the Cobbler replied, “A multitude of reasons,” and departed, not wanting to upset anyone. The Mayor grew angry in the face of his first decline and wondered why someone would not want to help improve the town. He stormed toward the Wise Watcher’s skytower, and shouted a question up to the sage. “Watcher oh watcher, the cobbler will not help me construct the casino, tell me why!” The watcher heard his call and leant out of the window, replying, “Well Mayor, does he believe the construction to be an improvement?” The Mayor became stern, “If he does not then he is wrong, I know what is best for this town as I am the self-appointed Mayor and I say if it is an improvement.” The watcher spoke again, “Yes but you are not the only one who lives in this town. This town would be lacking without the Cobbler. Should he not get a say?” The Mayor could not believe what he was hearing, “He does not understand, only the Sheriff and I understand.” The Watcher’s voice became louder, “No Mayor, it is you who does not understand. The Cobbler liked the park, the Cobbler used the park, you did not and yet you believe it is insufficient. Why not ask the Cobbler what he believes?” But the Mayor was no longer listening and with an upturned nose he turned and walked away.

                The next day the Cobbler arrived in Fadoodle after a long hard morning polishing and mending shoes for folk in the neighbour town, Hogwash. He walked unnoticed past the project site in the centre of town and entered his cramped shop, ready to take a much needed rest. He stoked the fire and fell into senselessness, among a pile of tattered shoes. He was awoken by a loud banging at his front door. Groggily he opened it and found himself stood in front of a grinning Mayor, a red-faced Sheriff and forty stern deputy’s. “Thought you could sneak away and hide here did you? Well I saw the smoke from your chimney and knew you were lollygagging.” Said the Mayor through a sly smile. “Cobbler, you have been caught red-handed. I hereby arrest you for the most heinous crime known to the fair town of Fadoodle, improductivity.” The Cobbler was taken by surprise, “Wait what? I haven’t done anything wrong.” “Oh but you have, you lazy spoilt obbler. Everyone in the village has helped us with the reconstruction in time for the King’s arrival except you. Even the obnoxious ogre offered. I have done manual labour two evenings in a row now and you didn’t even bat an eyelid. How disrespectful. I gave you everything and you repay me with nothing. You treat this place like you own it. You freely walk in and out with no cares in the world about who you are hurting in the process.” The Cobbler was confused. “My entering and leaving hurts people? I don’t want to hurt anyone.” “Stop talking,” the Mayor snapped, “I don’t want to listen to what you have to say, you don’t understand.”
                The Sheriff grabbed the Cobbler and started to walk him toward the dungeon, but something made him stop. A naked old man stood in his way. After a moment of confusion and morose disgust, the Sheriff suddenly realised who it was. It was the Watcher. This was the first time he had come down from his skytower in over thirty years. “Unhand this man,” he boomed, “Do you know what great mistake you will have made in forsaking him?” “There is no mistake,” barked the Mayor, “This man chooses not to assist our society and hence does not deserve its benefits. He must be shown the error of his ways. We shall break all of our previous agreed upon rapports and start afresh with an equally non-propitious relationship.” “Quiet Mayor!” the Watcher interrupted, he then turned to the Cobbler. “Dear Cobbler, do you understand that this new construction, although destroying the old, will probably prove to be beneficial to you?” The Cobbler thought for a moment “Yes I suppose.” The Watcher then turned to the Sheriff, assumedly because he seemed more approachable than the gibbering Mayor. “And Sheriff do you understand that, although you now have time on your hands, the Cobbler is busy and tired and stressed, hence would not gain from helping to destroy his previous place of folly?” After a moment the Sheriff conceded “Yes I can see how that makes sense.” The watcher spoke again “Cobbler, do you recognise that the Sheriff and Mayor are of good heart and trying to aid and improve the town, of which you should continually try not to counteract?” “Yes, yes of course I agree” “And Sheriff, do you recognise that forcing a duty upon someone transgresses the action into no longer dutiful or ethically objective but subjective sophist paralogism under a tyrannical will.” But before the Sheriff could fathom what the naked old wise watcher had meant, the Mayor cried out “I’m not listening to anymore of this nonsense!” Suddenly a loud primal cry came from the dungeon as the ogre smashed out of its cell, came hurtling into the open, ploughed through the forty deputy’s and swallowed the Mayor whole.

The end.