Chapter one, final

An hour later the two caretakers appeared at the church soaked and shivering. Paul had never experienced such a dichotomy of blistering sweatiness and chill. his fingers were numb and his testicles boiled in heat ridden underwear. where the rain hadn't seeped into his clothes sweat stained the rest. He threw the short shovel to the church floor, splattering mud as he cleared his boots. A call came across the mud spectled oak. it was muffled but distance and age. it was the over-joyes voice of Father Sabismo, "Paul!" it was from the church basement echoing loud up the stairs by the rectory, "a change of clothes on first row before you come join us!"

Paul gladly accepted. a short time later, he found himself down to the church cellers. He was sporting an old tweed sweater and an ancient pair of jeans. though the father was about a head taller then Paul and his waist doubled with beerful living, the father had dug through his ancient store to find jeans from less fruitful times. The jeans only sagged slightly, comfortibly. He turned the last corner of the winding stairs and saw three men around a short table. Granite stone held back the fall of the building above. the stones along the eathen side were stained with the ceaseless drip of water. not from the night's rain, but the ocean-bound conditions of Holy Isle. the basement was dry only literally. Great caskets adorned the room. Wines and whiskeys across the right wall, beers and ales at the far end. Spirited voices greeted him hardily. A strange man sat, red faced between Sabismo and Mr Reming. He wore the grin of a man not used to smiling. A pair of bottles passed the table, each stopping for a moment before the stranger. who dipped them to his cup with a merry grace Paul had not seen since New Year's eve. His thin blond hair and bright red complexion was stark contrast to father Sabismo's mahogony skin and thick, black mane. it shook with laughter as the father slapped the stranger's back. prehaps to dislodge the drink he was choking on. Paul doubted Sabismo's emphatic slapping was much help.
"Ah told ja no'tta mix wine an' whiskey!" Cried the father. then to Paul, " HO-HO! join us, sir!" He spat the greeting sah. Mr Reming cracked a smile and tilted his scare-crow head to the vacant chair. oh that smile, Paul shivered in his warm sweater, "no...no I, uh, gotta..."
"'fraid, no." interjected the smally dressed man. he slurred out, recovering from his fit of coughing, "the rein, iz to much, junger." He might've spoken in oxford english not but a few hours ago, but hints of the rhine swelled in his nasally slurs.
"What Mr. Nueman is tried to say, is that the weather simply wont allow." Explained Mr. Reming.
"Adelberto!" Nueman threw an arm across the table, "Charmed!"
"Paul." He took a seat, knowing he wasn't going anywhere and he was far too tired to protest. Paul was immedeately afered three briming pints of amber tokay. he downed two right away and sipped the third. A round a laughter set the company at ease. Paul had never drank with Mr. Reming before. But he soon discovered what a delight the scarecrow of a man could be. Adelberto took a nap on the table as the tokay flowed more freely. At glasss six, or was it seven, "AH! tis a fine brew!" Sabismo suddenly anounced. "To Munchausen!" he cried, lifting his glass.
"aye, to Munchausen." Mr Reming, Charles as he was more accostom, agreed. the too aged men tipped their steins.
when the toast finished, Paul was about to ask a question that would be forgot when Sabismo anounced that if not for the late baron, he'd never have come across this fadulous drink. "But tis a story for anodder time, prehaps! Paul!" Sabismo turned, almost savagely to the young drunk, "ya ever meet the baron? 'eard o' him at least, eh?"
Paul shook his head. Sabismo looked agast. his eyes doubled in size, popping out of his brown face like great white dinner plates. a cold look came over the merry drunk. He shook his head. his great black mane twisted sadly. Paul was about to offer some poorly thought condoleances for his ignorance when Charles spoke, "We knew him well, we did." he jabbed the slumbering German, Adelberto, with a long, bony finger. "so did this fop." He poured a thimble glass of the whiskey as the wine had ran dry, "aye! ain't that right, father? Regale us! tell the young'en 'bout the time youse had the Czar's herem an' how the baron tricked him in to paying you for it."
"no, no" the suddenly marose Sabismo chidded, "no the boy wouldn't appeariate such a tale of lust and wonder." silence. "but..." Sabismo's brightness rushed back, "you might appeareicate the tale of how you and the baron saved the barony's reputation by traveling to the future."
"w-w-wait," Paul was a self-accompleshed bluffer. he had, on more then one occation won this months rent from travern poker. he prided himself on being a great lier. and as they say, it takes one to know one. "what? you can't 'spect me ta belief that you went to da future!" he protested.
Charles turned to Sabismo, "aye, but he is too unnoble to grasp the possiblities of the possible."
"EE KNEW DAT FLUGGERT, VONMUNCHAUSEN!" Adelberto had arisen. Rested, he drew him self a tall glass of whiskey, drained it and refilled his glass. "that blowhard stole celestrial love zat shulda bein mein...


GASP!
end-o chapter one.
remember, these are the unrevisioned copies here, now.
the debut. if you will.
Next chapter, Adelberto Nueman's tale of the Lady Farfaraway
(sorry Fro, Martin Crabsith with appear in Charles Reming's story.)
update tomarrow tho not Munchausenly, that'll be next week...y

-marcus