Isn't it always like that? You spent a hot morning chivvying the plow and the Bishop up and down the north field. No satisfaction there -- it's just to turn in the clover. The view and the Bishop's hind end never change -- a mule's ass no matter what you call the mule, and Reverd Pearson has lectured you enough about calling him "the Bishop," but you figure he's your mule so you can call him what you like -- the mule, that is, not Reverd Pearson -- anyway, a whole morning and now it's time to chop the wood, and your good axe has gone missing.
Reverd Pearson would say you're a careless lunkhead who'd lose his ear if it wasn't nailed on. You figure he's right, a man of the cloth, but that doesn't mean piskeys didn't steal the thing. You know about piskeys.
A hot summer's tale by Andrew Plotkin ("Lyman Clive Charles")
Release 6 / Serial number 111119 / Inform 7 build 6G60 (I6/v6.32 lib 6/12N)
(Type ABOUT for credits and game information.)
Reverd Pearson says a man's home is his fortress. Your home is two rooms of dressed timber, but the roof doesn't leak, so that's fine. Not enough of a fortress to keep out the piskeys, though, it seems. The front door is west, and east is where you sleep in back.
A maplewood table stands in the center of this room. It's your home's pride (though the Reverd has warned you about pride) -- a handsome furnishing that your cousin down the road made for you when your house was raised. Every time you walk in you're pleased to see it. Only there should be an axe leaning against the table's corner, and there isn't.
A battered book is lying on the table, though.
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