In the mighty kingdom of Almero, the dainty town of Belmazore lived an average earning, lanky looking man, is appendages were too long, his fingers bony, his torso lean, he wasn’t malnourished, just gaunt. He lived with his ugly daughter. The ugliest in the land apparently, her features were too big, her body disproportionate and lumpy, her whole being defying the standards of society’s beauty mark.
Even though at first no one out her townsfolk particularly knew her, she was still popularly known as the town freak, but because of her father’s choice of profession and his politician rank due to his social kindness, more people came to know and dislike her, hence she became the nation freak.
Her father was the head host at a pub, a prominent one at that with three floors, the first of it’s kind, dancing men and women alike, private rooms, a polished podium and liquor for days. But the main attraction was the entertainers which grew more and more over time because just everyone wanted to be introduced by Cweru with his magical ways of working the crowd.
He was also commonly known for are the tall tales that he loved to tell to get the attention of the audience whenever he was about to announce something of greater importance.
The bigger the announcement, the taller the tales.
On one faithful day, one that had relevant people that had come from all over the land to hear the enchanting voice of the host and drink the best booze in the kingdom.
He cleared his throat loudly and slowly enough to get the attention of the crowd folk. But the people were too enthralled in their conversations to lend an ear.
Either that or they were stupidly drunk.
‘What?’ A rogue looking man barked through his brown-stained rotten teeth.
‘Oh...’ said the man.′ There ain’t nothing gentle about us.′ As if to prove his point, he struck the bottom of the poor waitress who just happened to be serving him more booze with his furry paw, earning himself an earful of insults and the rest of the booze in the jug all over him.
‘Right you are my good man.’ He licked the remnant liquid off his sweaty pudgy cheek with his suprisingly bright pink.
‘Look Cweru.’ He called out to the host sluggishly, licking the dripping alcohol off his streamlined cheek.
‘Tell a tall tale and the crowd will listen.’ Advised the man.
‘Right.’ The drunk Cweru heeded.
‘Did you folks know...that my daughter...the fairest maiden in the land can weave gold out of straw?’ His voice carried over the noise of the chattering patrons easily.
All conversations came to an abrupt halt as everyone to process what the almost staggering host just slurred out.
After a long moment of quietude, it began to sink in slowly. His daughter was “hideous” and gold? The best she could weave was the excuse of hair on the top of her head. all the men broke into giggles, and as they carried on with the thoughts, guffaws escaped their lips and they began roaring with laughter, causing quite a hubbub. Some spilling their drinks and some banging hard on the tables. The buffoonery.
Moments later, the ecstatic moment began to lessen everyone began to sober up, with the knowledge that this was the tall tale for the night they hushed completely and paid full attention, the only thing making noise was the clinking of mugs, plates and cutleries on the tables.
Throughout the rest of the night, Cweru couldn’t stop giggling at the tall tale he had told that night. Especially the part of his daughter being fair.
The lanky man stumbled on home to his ever-loving daughter. By the time he got back, the door was locked, and she did warn him.
‘If you don’t get back here by twilight, I will lock these doors, and you will sleep with the cat, Geoffrey.’ Cweru mimicked his daughter’s controlling voice, laughing at how accurate he was getting, he gave himself a pat on the back.
‘Are you mimicking me old man?’ The daughter’s voice came through the door.
‘Me?’ asked the man, a look of false innocence washed over his face as he held his chest in pure disbelief. ‘I dare not mimic you.’
‘Oh...ok then...just checking.’ her voice began to fade away along with her steps.
‘Wait, wait, darling. It’s me, the man you adore. Your beloved father.’ he begged while rapping his knuckles against the door frantically.
He heard his daughter’s scoff and her steps fading and resounding continuously, clinking of silverware and grating of wooden furniture against the cold stone floor as she was probably working in the kitchen.
‘How nice it is to be the father to a gold weaver.’ He soliloquized after a while, sliding himself down the tea green kitchen door and sitting of the top stone step sulkily. There was no question who the parent here was.
‘What?’ The door was opened quickly which made Cweru fall in slightly, his tree limb of an arm bearing the impact for the rest of his body.
‘Oh, tonight my darling I told the whole town that my daughter, the fairest lady in the land, could weave gold out of straw.’ Said the man as he stood up and stared at his daughter who still held her same grim expression.
‘Did I say she was fair?’
After a moment of silence, she broke into a small laugh, her grim expression softening into another, the one he was used to, the one that told him when he needed to do things because he had bad time management, the one that smacked objects out of his mouth whenever he was thinking.
Cweru sighed, seemingly satisfied because no matter how ugly his daughter could get, she had the prettiest smile he had ever seen.
‘Fine then. I’ll let this slide because you just highlighted my night, it’s been nothing but stubborn potatoes, and a book with the whiniest female lead ever.’ She warned and stepped aside for her father to enter what was their kitchen. The dining table filled with his favourite delicacies and best of all, they were still steaming hot and taunted his stomach flirtatiously, begging to be eaten.
‘You think you’d be fat by now.’ She set cutleries before him, walking here and there, dishing out his portion, the rest would go in the pantry for later or be fed to Geoffrey, who wasn’t their cat, just a stray that had grown fond of them and vice versa so they fed him and at times his friends whenever they were lucky enough to have surplus.
‘I knew you love me.’ He shot her a toothy grin as he picked up his fork and knife, the grey in his hair gleaming like the whites of his eye.
‘I can’t wait for the day you and your tall tales get you into a predicament.’ Joked his daughter as she picked up her novel from the side of the stove in preparation to retire.
‘Eat up you old fool. You are quite lucky the people are used to your cock and bull stories. Do you know what they do to liars? Nowadays, they send them to work for politicians and lawyers. Soon enough, they will become as honest as the day is long, for they have never met such a match before.’ She told her slightly inebriated father.
When he had finished his enormous dinner, they retired to their chambers for a long and dreamless slumber.
But unknown to the unlucky pair, there was an individual in his audience that day who found what the old host said to be rather interesting than humorous.