In the outskirts of Bristol, England, on the northwestern corner of Cherryshire and Frankenberry streets, you would find the smallest park in all the British Isles. And within that park, in a tiny nook between the Sansapple trees and thick Honeybustle bushes there stood a tiny wooden house with a black tiled roof. And within the house lived an even tinier man called Perrywinkle, who stood 3 feet and 3 inches tall, thank you very much.
Perrywinkle’s clothes were old and faded, but were always clean and smelled of lilac. He hadn’t a single hair on his head, but sported a GREAT big black mustache that was always perfectly coiffed into tiny circular whisps at each end. And if you ever happened to knock on his door, and give him a POUND, Old Perrywinkle would tell you a story.
On that bright, sunny day in May when I found myself visiting the old man for one of his Furley-cheese crumpets and a tale from his past, I found him instead in quite a sour mood indeed.
“Thomund the Fishmonger!” He chortled. “He BILKS his customers! I’ve just been round his docks to buy some carp and I saw everyone around in quite a HISSY!”
“Now Perrywinkle,” I said. “You’re quite out of sorts my friend. Let’s calm down and have a spot of tea. Of course, we’ve known there was something quite FISHY going on at Thomund’s place for a while, so let’s go get to the bottom of it at once!”
-From Wordle Puzzle 1/29/2023
Artwork by Mason Rice