Look at them. Hard at work. Whatever they’re doing. Alchemy alchemy alchemy, he then thinks. That’s where the real work happens. Must get back to my lab in the cellar to test out some stuff. Let’s see, I bought a new pestle at the marketplace. Will try that in an old mortar first, or, what Young might call, a marriage of male and female forces to create the hermaphroditic whole. Can’t wait.
Just because it’s a pretty girl doing it doesn’t make the activity any more hygienic, he thought while passing the grape stompers. I’ll have to ask Barney if there’s any other way to do this. “What you’re name?” he asked, thinking she might be unemployed soon. “Pricilla Plum,” came the answer. “Well, that’s a plumb beautiful name,” he quickly shot back. “Just like you.” She titters while still stomping away. What a grating laugh, he thinks while walking away. Now where was I? Oh yes, the lab.
“Bob, Carol, Ted,” he addresses each individual at the table before him, eating heartily on a meal between breakfast and lunch. Let’s call it luckfast. “Do what do I owe the honor?”
“What do you mean? Witcher?” said either Bob or Ted, reader’s choice.
“Gerald, please,” insists Gerald over his more formal name.
“Yes, of course,” said Ted. Pretty sure it was Ted this time. “Gerald. With a D right?” then said Bob opposite him. “And not a T as more commonly spelled.”
“Spelt,” insists Ted, making Bob grin.
“That’s right,” says Gerald about his name.
Carol between them begins to titter in a way not unlike the grape stomper before, making Gerald visibly wince. “Don’t you see fellas,” she followed. “*Gerald* has forgotten where he lives. *Again*.”
Now hearty laughs from all 3. Gerald realizes his mistake. This was not his vineyard. He had gotten confused in the maze of Beauchamp streets and exited the wrong gate. It wasn’t the first time. In a dream of alchemy he was, ever since the library.
“Down the path over there and take a right at the bottom of the hill,” said Bob between laughs. “Just ask one of your workers if you get lost again, ha ha ha.”
“Ho ho ho,” echoes Ted. “And, ho ho, ask them where *I* live, he he he.”
“Hu hu hu,” goes Carol. Gerald had had enough. His cheeks red from embarrassment, he spots the indicated path and was on his way again. At least he remembered their names, he tried to console himself in the moment. The Fishers. Not *his* vineyard but theirs.
Sunklands 