Friday 17 January 2014

250 Words: The Tinners

“You gotta feed the crust to The Tinners, young man.  You ‘ave to appease the creatures whose world we chip into every day and whose treasure we take away.  It’s down this path.”

“We must please The Tinners, my boy; those small men born of tin, with tiny hands and tiny teeth.  Vicious little buggers they can be.  Especially with those who rob their ‘omes, so they say.  Stand back for the lift.”

“Don’t upset The Tinners, child; just leave what’s left upon the ground and we’ll come to no ‘arm.  No creatures of the mine will pull the roof down upon our ‘eads or take our air away.  Now tuck right in and Old Man Davies will tell you a tale…”

“Ay, leave ya pasty crust for The Tinners, lad, for an arrangement was made centuries ago when The Tinners were starving’ ‘cause they’d eaten all the bugs they ate for food.  

“When prospectors came looking to mine, The Tinners, though hungry, put up a strong and united front to protect their lands.  But their hungry eyes, connected to hungry bellies, spied the engineer’s pasty made by his wife.  Part meat.  Part fruit.  Jus’ like yours, and the deal was struck between us human and them Tinners.  

“And so we must abide by the deal struck long ago and leave the crust of our meal on the floor or face the tinners’ wrath.”

“And, besides, it’s cleaner, better for you.  The crust‘s covered in dirt from your ’ands, look.”

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