Speak

There used to be a little fisherman, nobody really knew his age or name so they just called him that. He used to sing all day under the sun and his songs grew more beautiful as the day drew by, so that by 6 pm a crowd usually formed around him to listen, comfortably sat on chairs, cushions or fathers' shoulders. He didn't mind, as a matter of fact he didn't seem to care or even notice the crowd. Nobody knew where he was from because the concerts continued long into the night and he was always the last one to leave them, but at dawn he was there again and sang songs about the things that would happen that day.

She didn't even need to get out of the house to watch him, for her cottage gave right onto the river and she could see and hear him every moment of every day. He had become part of the view, but his singing still cought her ear every once in a while: she had grown to be hungry at the time he sang of lunch and dinner, happy when he sang of children playing... She had also developed the habit of blaming him for the things she did: "Maya, why did you fill your socks with worms?" , "The lil'fisherman said comfort is never the answer";" Why did you skip school?" ,"The lil'fisherman says life is brief and can't be wasted". To explain oneself is a flaw, to be understood is a weakness. "No-Tongue Kyle is lucky" she thought "Nobody ever expects him to give answers". Kyle was a gambler , he always lost and wasted all his money. Once he had resorted paying his debts in magical squids:

"Indeed the magic is in the stench.." he'd tell his creditors. This was the part of the story were all the kids laughed.... Yep, No-Finger Kyle was really good at telling this tale; they weren't the same person: it was funny because his nickname was just the unfortunate consequence of having the same name as a no good, filthy, squiddy gambler.