Hello!
Welcome to Stories Podcast.
I'm your host, Amanda Weldon.
Today's story is called The Weirdos, inspired by English folklore and written for you by Daniel Hines.
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Enjoy the episode!
Once upon a time there was a little town called Hamwich, nestled in the remote and beautiful forests of a lush green isle.
Remote in this case means far away from anything else, and that was how Hamwich liked it.
The town was small, but it had everything the people wanted.
There was a school for the kids, led by a teacher that everyone called Auntie.
There was a church whose reverend, called Rev as a nickname, welcomed everyone with open arms.
And then there was the tavern, a great common room where everyone would come to eat and share the news and be served dinner by the plump and pleasant innkeepers, Mr and Mrs Sanders.
Everyone in Hamwich were friends and things seemed like they'd just keep getting better until one day they got a visit from the Queen's royal messenger.
Auntie, the teacher, and Reverend Rev were standing in front of the school at the end of the day.
The kids were headed home and they were talking, just laughing and passing the time, when suddenly, coming down the well-worn dirt road into town, was a tall white horse.
Wow, said Auntie.
Who owns that beauty?
One of the farmers get a new ride?
Rev shook his head.
That's not from town.
Look at the gold on the saddle.
That's a herald from the king.
And as he got closer, Auntie could see it too.
Not only was the saddle trimmed in gold, the messenger himself wore a fine royal suit, and coming down behind him were two soldiers looking bored on their horses.
What's a king's messenger doing in Hamwich? asked Auntie.
I don't know, said Rev, but we're about to find out.
The messenger saw the teacher and reverend talking and headed their way, the soldiers following slowly behind them.
Hello, you two, the messenger said in a haughty royal tone that set the two townsfolk on edge.
I'm looking for the leader of this town, a mayor or perhaps the lord.
No mayor here, and definitely no lord, said Auntie.
I'm the teacher, and this is the reverend.
Are you in charge? asked the messenger.
No one is in charge, said Rev.
We all come together and vote on anything that needs voting, but we're a small community.
There's really not much that comes up.
Good enough, then I'll talk to you too, said the messenger.
Our hunters have found that your woods here are rich in deer and boar, and your little town seems pleasant.
The king would like to make this his hunting preserve and pave a road to your city.
Rev and Auntie looked at each other skeptically.
Visits from the king were supposed to be an honor, but they always ended up feeling like a lot of trouble.
Everything had to be perfect and proper when the king was around.
But it was hard to be perfect and proper and also live a normal life.
Of course, you'll also have to pay taxes on the road since it'll be useful to your town.
Taxes, said Auntie.
We don't have much money here.
We just trade with friends and neighbors.
I don't know that we can afford to pay the king every time we go to the market fair down the road.
Well, if we make a royal road, you'll be using it, and so you should pay, said the messenger without much thought.
He clearly didn't care about the people of Hamwich.
But there's already a dirt road and we can use it for free, said Rev.
Oh, well, said the messenger, brushing them off with a wave of his hand.
I'm just here to let you know that the king will be arriving next week for a visit.
When he sees your charming little town, I'm sure he'll be convinced.
Auntie and Rev started to argue, but the messenger turned his horse and rode away, the silent soldiers falling in behind him.
This is bad, said Rev.
Auntie, would you gather everyone at the inn with Mr. and Mrs. Sanders?
I think we need to have a town meeting about this.
Right, said Auntie.
Let's do it.
An hour later, Rev Auntie, Mr and Mrs Sanders and some other people from town sat in the inn drinking cups of tea and grumbling about the news.
When everyone was there, Rev told them all what the king's messenger had said.
Tax on our road, said Mrs. Sanders.
But we don't have enough money for that.
And we'd have to pay out the nose every time we went to the next town over to trade supplies.
We don't want the king here, said Mr. Sanders.
We want to live our lives and not be charged for walking down our own roads.
It's worse than even that, said Rev.
Once the king sets up a hunting camp here, the whole town will belong to him.
We'll have to cater to his every whim.
We'll be no better than servants every time he comes by.
What can we do? asked Mrs. Sanders.
I have an idea, said Auntie, but it's a little crazy.
Well, a little crazy is better than any idea that I have, so hit us with it, said Mr. Sanders.
Well, the king wants to base his hunting here because we have such a charming little town.
Sure, we have a lot of animals, but so do a lot of towns nearby.
We just need the king to pick one of those instead.
Then how do we do that? asked Mrs. Sanders.
Well, the king is coming to inspect our town next week, said Auntie.
And of course, our town is beautiful, and I wouldn't want to change that.
But what if we were different?
How do you mean? asked Rev.
"'Well, what if we were a bunch of weirdos?'
Auntie said, and then she went on to explain her plan.
A few mugs of steaming tea later, and they were all smiling and laughing, planning late into the night.
A week later, the people of Hamwich heard a distant thunder.
Some people closed their shutters, expecting a storm, but it wasn't rain and lightning.
No, it was the king arriving with his royal entourage.
A dozen warhorses with stomping feet pulling a great gilded carriage with gold ornaments all over it.
Behind came a score of royal guards wearing burnished golden armor and carrying long halberds.
All of them marching together made the thunder.
And when they caught sight of Hamwich through the trees, a dozen of the guards lifted trumpets from their saddles and blasted out a royal fanfare.
Do-do-do-do!
Do-do-do-do-do-do!
Here they come, said Auntie.
Everyone get ready, said Mrs. Sanders, dragging her husband back to the inn.
Do-do-do-do-do-do!
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We'll be back with the rest of the story after this.
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The same herald as before rode in front of the king's procession and stopped before the town.
Attention, people of Hamwich!
The king has arrived for a royal visit.
He wishes to inspect your lovely town.
Please go about your day as normal and enjoy the king's magnificent presence.
Just then, the front door of the school burst open.
A crowd of screaming kids surged out, chanting, Fish!
Fish!
Fish!
And behind them came their teacher, Auntie.
She was smiling wide and held something over her head in both hands.
Inside his carriage, the king peered out the window at the sound of the commotion.
He looked for a moment, and then his eyes went wide.
Is that woman, is she carrying a fish?
Fish, fish, fish, chanted the kids.
It would appear so, the king's messenger replied from outside the window.
Find out what is going on, the king said, clearly confused.
You there, snapped the herald, yelling at auntie.
What are you all doing with the fish?
This fish was badly behaved, said Auntie, wiggling the big silver fish in his face.
It was clearly still alive and kicking.
We're going to punish it by drowning it in the river.
Fish!
Fish!
Fish! yelled the kids.
They swept Auntie away and down towards the river.
There, as the king watched, with great ceremony and care, they dunked the fish into the river.
It swam away in a flash.
That'll teach it, called Auntie, and the kids all cheered.
Drowning a fish, said the king.
It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.
It's a town tradition, said Auntie, walking back up from the river with her class in tow.
These nasty fish deserve it.
The king just shook his head and let Auntie walk away.
Strange, said the king. but I suppose every town has their customs.
True, said the herald, but he looked very weirded out.
A few moments later, the church bells began to ring wildly, sending a flock of doves fluttering into the sky.
Reverend Rev ran out of the church holding his head in his hands.
My birds, he said.
They've escaped again.
We'll help you, Reverend, said some people hanging out in the town square.
Where's the fence?
Out back, said Rev.
Hurry now.
The people ran out behind the church and grabbed a round pen of fence about five feet across.
It was a circle without a top, kind of like a playpen.
One of the doves landed on the grass and Rev ran up to it.
Here's one.
Catch it quick.
The people ran over and set the pen around the dove.
It looked at them, turned his head and cooed, and then flew up into the air, the little fence, doing nothing to stop it.
Escaped again, said Rev.
Then he turned as if noticing the king's carriage for the first time.
Oh, sorry, he said to the herald.
These doves are just so hard to keep.
They're always flying away no matter where I put the fence.
Wouldn't it work better if there was a roof on it?
A roof?
On a birdcage? said Rev with a fake look of shock.
The birds would hate that.
Oh, look, there's another dove.
Talk to you later.
And Rev ran off.
A birdcage with no top? asked the king from inside his carriage.
And that man is a reverend?
Yes, your grace, said the herald.
He's one of the town's leaders.
This town is getting weirder and weirder, but I suppose if that's all it is.
But that wasn't all there was.
The town of Hamwich made sure of it.
They wanted the king to think they were weirdos and leave, and they had one final move.
Everyone, it's dinner time, came the booming voice of Mrs. Sanders.
Everyone, come on!
The entire town dropped what they were doing and ran to the inn.
Dozens of people crowded in front and the king was so curious he got out of his carriage.
Two servants carried his long cape so it wouldn't brush the dirt as he walked over to the inn.
All right, called Mr Sanders, pushing out a carriage full of cheese like absolutely full to the brim, with big round circles of cheese, each one as big as a cartwheel.
There was a cheddar orange cheese, waxy white cheese, stinky yellow cheese, and moldy blue cheese.
All kinds of cheese, all in big round circles, just waiting to be sliced.
What's going on? asked the king, more confused than ever.
What's with the cheese in the cart?
You eat all of that for dinner?
All that cheese for dinner? said Auntie, with the kid on her shoulders.
Don't be ridiculous.
This is just how we pick which one to eat.
How do you mean? asked the king.
Just watch and see, said Auntie.
All right, called Mr. Sanders.
Everyone grab a wheel and bring it to the top of the hill.
He gestured at his wagon of cheese, and then the steep little hill behind the inn where the kids would sled in the winter.
The townspeople all in on the plan came forward and grabbed wheels of cheese like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Working in pairs or trios to carry the heavy wheels, they lugged them up to the top of the hill.
This is so weird, said the king.
Just wait, said Rev.
All right, said Mrs. Sanders at the bottom of the hill.
On your mark, get set, roll that cheese!
With a shout, all the townspeople rolled their cheese wheels down the hill.
The watchers cheered for their favorites.
Go cheddar!
Come on blue!
Swiss!
Swiss!
Swiss!
A sturdy wheel of red waxed parmesan barreled down the hill just ahead of a tumbling queso fresco.
It was the first wheel to pass Mrs Sanders and she threw up her arms as the crowd let loose a mighty cheer.
We have a winner! she shouted.
It's Parmesan for dinner!
The crowd picked up the wheel of Parmesan and held it over their head like it was a great hero.
Cheese!
Cheese!
Cheese! they chanted, carrying it into the inn.
The king looked horrified, and he turned to the kindly reverend who stood next to him.
So, is this a special occasion?
Nope, said Rev.
This is how we decide on dinner every night.
Why?
Do you do something different?
And with that, Rev followed the crowd into the inn.
The king watched him go, torn between laughing and screaming and just wondering what in the world.
Finally, he turned to his herald.
You said this was a nice town.
It's full of weirdos.
Sorry, your grace, said the herald, eyes wide.
Hamwich is a silly name anyway.
There's another lovely town not ten miles from here.
It's called Essex, and I'm sure they're a little more normal.
Well then, said the king, getting into the carriage and slamming the door.
Let's leave right away.
Without so much as a goodbye, the king and his herald and the royal guards and their horses and carriages and all disappeared back down the road, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust behind.
The people of Hamwich waited for a minute to be sure they were out of earshot, and then Auntie threw her arms around Rev in a big hug.
We did it, she cheered.
We get to keep our little town just like it is, agreed Rev.
Mr. and Mrs. Sanders passed out drinks to everyone and then raised a glass.
To the weirdos, they called.
To the weirdos, the town cheered back.
The king never bothered them again, and they all lived happily ever after.
The End.
Today's story was called The Weirdos, inspired by English folklore and written for you by Daniel Hines.
It was edited and produced by Ellie Hines and performed for you by me, Amanda Weldon.
If you would like to support Stories Podcast, you can leave us a 5-star review on iTunes.
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Thanks for listening!
