An odd but otherwise unremarkable man has been loitering in the park in the village of Evergreen. Calling him odd would bother him, I’m sure, but not for the usual reason (which is odd in itself, I would maintain). He would, it appears, prefer to be referred to as absurd. However, I do not think he rises to that level. He certainly aspires to it, that is plain to see, but he is not there yet by any measurement. If this one is absurd, well then they sure don’t make absurd like they used to is all I can say.
The odd one turns up in Winterfell Evergreen about twice per week. Usually he sits in Twilight Park with a book that he rarely reads. I have watched him from my office. Mainly he looks at the flowers and the birds and the trees and chats politely with passersby. Sometimes he ventures into The Emerald Inn across the way and heads straight for the upstairs bar, which is more rustic than the ground level bar.
There have been no complaints about him but one visitor did mention his presence when giving her impressions of my home sim. “He told me he is hoping to run into you so he can introduce himself.” “Oh?” “Yes. He certainly is harmless. A very cheery fellow. He wants to apply for a position.” “This fellow wants to work for me?” “Yes,” continued the visitor, a Miss Scrabinski, “he wants to be your court jester.” She laughed, then realized she might be laughing a bit too hard, having just met me, and stopped her laugh short. “You don’t say,” I said, laughing politely as I thanked her for visiting and wished her well.
This odd, cheery fellow wants to be a court jester…and my court jester, at that. And this lady visitor thinks it is funny.
“It is funny, actually,” I chuckled to myself. I have a castle, maybe I could use a court jester.
I turned back and followed after my visitor, “Excuse me, Miss?” “Yes, Your Grace?” “Did this fellow give his name?” She paused and then began laughing again, as before, and it appeared she was trying to stop it again but was having no success. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said through the laughter, “He calls himself…Wanko Dickfield.”
It took her three times to get it out as her laughter became fully uncontrollable.
On second thought…