The Pork-Pied Piper Of Hamlin Way (bedtime stories for the child inside) series 2

The Pork-Pied Piper Of Hamlin Way

Lying comfortably ? Then we'll begin.

Once upon a time, there was a bustling old town called Torquay. People
came in their droves to visit the seaside resort, with its lushious palm trees
and polution free beaches.

Not all was polution free unfortunately.
The town was riddled with the homeless fraternity. Large gatherings would
take place, where the jubilant reprobates would sing, dance and all make
merry.

To some, this was fine, as long as it didn't spill over into the townsfolk and
visitors. But, day by day, the frivolity spread wider and wider. The towns
folk grew weary of it, and so called upon their Mayor to rid them of this
increasing menace.

A meeting was called for, where the Mayor announced. 'I am aware of the
growing homeless situation. And I'll call upon the one man that I think will
have the solution to our problem.'
He waved on a dishevelled man. 'Creaky Jones, everybody. I'm told you
might know of someone who could help.'
The old man could barely stand, but stand he did. 'There has always been
legend told amongst the rural community, of a man who could meet your
requirements.'
A burly man in his mid forties slumped back in his seat. 'Please don't regale
us with gypsy fairytales.'
The old man shot him a scornfull glare. 'Gypsy tale or not, I know of this
legend to be true. Immortal they say. I saw him myself, when just a small
boy. Came through the trees he did. Brandishing what we thought was an
old worn out shillelagh.'
The crowd sat in silence.
Resuming his story. 'Turned out, it wasn't a shillelagh he had at all, but a
huge knobbly penis. Two foot if it was an inch, I'd say.'
There were gasps all around.
Again. 'Like I say. He came out from behind the trees, saw me and my
friend, then put the thing to his lips. He began to blow, and through holes
running down the front of it, a merry tune was played. All of a sudden, the
air was filled with butterflies, which gave the impression of dancing in the
air before us. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Not the penis of course,
but the way in which the winged creatures surrounded us, but at the same
time, there was something eerie about it all. Needless to say, we ran home
and never spoke of it to anyone...Until now.'

A humming sound filled the room, as everybody started talking to whoever
was sat nearest them.
Once again, the Mayor called for quiet. 'Please. Can everyone just quieten
down for a moment. Mr Jones. You said that you saw his what-not.'
He looked around the room, embarrassed. 'But why? Was the man not at
all clothed?'
The old man looked to the Mayor, then the people of the room, scanning
their eyes with his own, as they all swept over him. 'Well! In a manner of
speaking he was. You see... He had on, a pork-pie hat.'
The lady sat next to him looked affronted. 'Was that all?'
Looking down at her. 'Yes. Oh! And a pair of sandals.'
With the meeting adjourned, they had decided to seek out the legendary
'Pork-Pied Piper Of Hamlin Way'.

The hill in which the piper was said to live looked untouched by human hand.
Looking to the old man, the police chief said. 'Are you sure this is the place?
Doesn't look like anybody's been here in donkeys years.'
The old man looked at the grass around them, finally finding what it was he
was looking for.
He picked up the hardened cow pat and threw it at the hillside, shouting.
'Come out ya dirty bastard.'
Nothing happened.
Scrutinising one particular patch of grass, the Mayor yelled, pointing out a
finger. 'There.'
Everyone followed the line of his finger. There, in the side of the hill, the grass
shook.

The next moment, as if by magic, an opening appeared, emerging from it, a
rather odd sight.
A man, middle aged, stood before them. His naked form was completely
hairless, from sandal, to pot belly, to hat. Not even whiskers or eyebrows.
If this was not a gruesome enough sight as it was, there was no mistaking
him form being the legend, as he did indeed have an over indulgent member,
complete with holes.
From the entrance to the cave, the stranger put his privates to his mouth.
The Mayor stepped forward, raising his hands, palms open. 'No! We mean
you no harm. We have come to ask for your help.'
The stranger snorted derisively. 'Why be I helpin' ye?'
The Mayor lowered his hands, placing them in his pockets and taking out a
handful of notes. 'We're willing to pay for your services. We have money.'
Staring at the faces around him. 'More than that need Ye.'
Flustered, the Mayor went on. 'Of course. We have plenty. You can name
your price.'
Taking a sudden interest in matters. 'What be ye needin' of me. Then we set
payment.'
Now smiling. 'Of course, of course. The reason behind our visit. We need
for you to exspunge our beautiful town of its homeless problem. We would
like the streets to be cleared of rif raff.'
The piper rubbed his chin in contemplation. 'My fee is, a Tesco's bag-for-life,
filled with the golden nuggets ye call pounds.'
The mayor looked to the crowd of towns people there, who all nodded in
agreement.
He then said. 'You have a deal.'
Grinning, the piper warned. 'Be warned, people. If ye try to renege on our
contract. I will bring nought but disorder to yer town.'
The gathering left the hillside, pleased with the way things went.

Dawn, the next day, The Pork-Pied Piper wend his way through the town
playing his 'skin flute'. Behind him, he led an evergrowing line of bedraggled
souls, unable to stop themselves following this genital maestro.
The towns people watched in horrified awe, as he twisted and turned, span
and swooped, as the melody emmitting from his organ, carried them along
the streets toward the harbour.
Once there, the piper hopped aboard a waiting row boat, still playing for
the line of homeless, that, unlike the piper, had no boat to save them, so
stepped out into the sea , wading out to their watery doom.

Back on land, the crowd patted the piper on the back, congratulating him
on a job well done.
A parade of happy faces greeted him where ever he looked, all swept away
with the jubilance of the moment. The streets were filled with merriment and
joy.
The Mayor strode forth, a beaming smile upon his face. 'My good man, you
have cleansed our town and for that we are eternally grateful.'
As he shook the mans hand, the piper said. 'I believe ye have a carrier bag
for me.'
The Mayor fidgetted. 'Ah! About that. We couldn't come up with the exact
amount that you'd asked. But, we have got a paper bag full of shiny coppers,
if that's ok.'
The end of the piper's penis glowed an angry purple with rage. ' I warned ye
not to try ta diddle me of me earnin's. Now ye shall pay, but a different price.'
With that, he stormed off back to his hiding place on the hill.
Everyone laughed at the sight of this naked angry man. Not exactly realising
what his threat had meant.
The party continued throughout the night. All were content.

Early next morning, the Mayor woke, and turning to kiss his wife, found she
wasn't there. Look as he might, he could not find her anywhere. He walked
into town to see if she was shopping for breakfast, but no, nobody had seen
her. The street was filled with men all asking the same question. 'Have you
seen my wife?'
It was then spotted upon the door of the town hall. A letter adressed to all
of them.
It read:

To all of ye scurvy dogs. I have taken all the females to a
place where ye shall never see them again. Ye should not
have crossed me, so, this is yer price to pay.
Ye tried to diddle my backside with yer petty selfishness,
now you will have to diddle eachothers on those lonely
nights ahead.
Ha!

The panicing men could not let his be.
They must find their wives and daughters.
They set out to find the piper once again. Only this time, it was to find their
loved ones, and destroy the legend once and for all.

Guessing that he had taken them back to his cave in the hillside, they made
haste, for Hamlin Way.
After many cow pats were thrown, eventually the openning appeared. The
piper laughed at them, as they could hear the calls of their ladies from inside,
and wept.
They cried out. 'Give them back. Or we shall be forced to take them and
put an end to your evil deeds.'
Still laughing. 'Ye cannot harm me. There is but one thing that can stop my
music. And it doesn't look as if you've got a porcupine here with ye.'
As he turned to go back inside, the Mayor shouted. 'That's where you're
wrong.'
A small boy ran out from behind the Mayor, throwing something in the
direction of the piper, from behind his back.
It was too late for the piper to react in time, as the spines from the spiky
airborne mammal peirced the holes in his phallic instrument. Try as he might,
no sound was heard.
The spell was broken, and the women emerged from the cave safe, if only
a little hazy as to what had happened to them.
The piper, no longer able to perform, vanished into obscurity. Never to be
heard from again.

The moral of the story must be: You should never go back on a promise.
Or it may come back to bite you in the ass.

All was well for the towns folk. Until...

The town aquired the services of Betty Scribble and her arse harp, to keep
out the immigrant onslaught.