A wee “certain” story from ye “certain” time.

Long ago, in ye olden times, there lived a certain “secret society”. Now lest dear reader be confused, there was nothing either “secret” nor “societal” about said organization, thought it’s members liked to think there was. Members of ye organization  came from all walks of life, there were tradesmen, craftsmen, laborers, and even one who rode a horse and each day delivered “news and information” from house to house, a job which no one understood or valued. He claimed his job was vitally important, yet oddly he didn’t work on Sunday, leaving one to wonder why the news of Saturday wasn’t important, but we digress. The groups shared traits included a love of grog, ale, eating, and overall sloth. What they held most in common was that they earned most of their income off the King’s largess. That and the fact that none of them were cocksmen. Anyway, one day, a certain member found that his prized possession (other than his donkey) was starting to “act the devil”.  Being a civilized gentleman of the time, rather than quarterhorsing her or stoning her, he caused her even more pain and married her.  Regaling her with woefully long and pointless tales of yore, he hoped to tame the beast. Alas the devil inside her grew, and so, our certain member approached ye Court and asked for ye divorce.  Thus granted, the society erupted in joy for the certain member ( though they were rightly concerned that this may mean he’d be around more often, a not unwarranted concern given his propensity to arrive at functions “grogless” and then proceed to “borrow” grog from other members. Said members began to wonder how one “borrows” grog. Additionally the certain member’s farmhouse had extremely poor breezeways, thus limiting the attractiveness of frequenting said farmhouse on any days between Mayeth and Octobereth.  This was particularly problematic for the member called “Sir Shitsalot”, a member who preferred ye cold winters air on his arse all year round. Additionally our certain member sired an offspring who was fond of jumping on the farmhouse floor and being an all around hellion to company. But we digress). Our certain member, newly unencumbered from the battle axe of an ex wife(newly single, she found fleeting fame as a vocal impersonator of opera singers at Ye Benihana’s Japanese steakhouse) found himself frequenting the Town Faires and Jousting matches each Friday and Saturday night, in hopes of meeting a fair damsel (or at least one that didn’t run away). He was often accompanied by another member, who was famous for his “going problem”  and was thusly known as “Sir Pissalot, but we digress). At about this time, a scandal of no small size erupted. It was to be that our certain person thusly had an audience with the ex sea hag of a current member. This portly member, known for his poor negotiating skills (yes, Sir Bluffsalot), was amongst the most beloved members of the society ( in much the same way the townspeople loved the cobblers son, Sir Duncealot, who repeatedly nailed his shoes to his feet, thus single handedly driving up health care costs for the entire village, but we digress). As such, the other members became incensed with this act of societal treason. One member demanded removal, but he meant for himself, a request for which we could not comply, for we loved Sir Lobbysalot. Another member, Sir Talksalot, requested castration, but was thusly informed he had already been granted such on his marriage day. Still another member, Sir Swearsalot/Sir Delaysalot/Sir Drinksalot (should we keep going?) requested that the member face “death by fucking his face”.  Finally, the leader of ye society, made a decree. He decreed that he couldn’t believe that there was school the day before Christmas eve.  He also decreed that he was afraid of midgets, clowns and carneys, and thusly all future circuses were cancelled.  Lastly, he decreed that the society would  use all of its limited resources to investigate this matter and bring justice to it. And so the certain member faced a dilemma, deny the accusations, run away, or face the music. And so here we sit, hundreds of year later, and wonder, what did the certain member do?