From Galicia to Milesia?

After a longer than normal break I’m back. Don’t everyone rejoice at once. Thanks to How We’ll Prompt... a Milesian story. Enjoy the pancakes.

“My good man, we have traveled far. From the Galician highlands through the northern seas. We come seeking the Frankie, the Gavin! Wherefore arth he?”

“Arth? I’m sorry, there’s no Arth here, my lord. Nor any of his square table.”

“No, no. We are not seeking Arth. We seek the Frankie, the Gavin!”

“Ooooh, forgive me. I remember now. Arth’s table was round.”

“We are not seeking Arth or anyone like that. Pray, sir. We seek the Frankie, the Gavin!”


“Yes. The Gavinish one.”

“Might you mean the one with the red fringe on top?”

“Perhaps we might.”

“I haven’t seen one of those in ages. But I do have a lovely turnip.”

“A… turnip?”

“Yes. A big, lovely, red and brown turnip.”

“We are not seeking your turnip.”

“Just as well. It’s not for sale. I like my turnip. And you can’t have it.”

“And I don’t want it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Must I tell you again, good man? We seek the Frankie, the Gavin!”

“Ooooh, you must mean the pancake maker.”


“Oh, but you must.”

“But I don’t.”

“I would love one of his pancakes right now.”

“We seek not pancakes!”

“No? Then you must be looking for a shark.”

“A shark? What do sharks have to do with anything?”

“They don’t, my lord. But I can poach a lovely mako syrup. Sharks are lovely with my turnip, hogwart and cedar sauce.”

“I would think not.”


“Because you are clearly not a wizard.”

“I am.”

“Are not.”


“Sir, you try my patience! For the last and final time! We have come from afar and we seek the Frankie, the Gavin! Do you hear me? THE FRANKIE, THE GAVIN!”

“If that’s what you want you should look in this log cabin.”

“Ah. Then the Frankie, the Gavin lives here?”

“No, sir, just me. I’m a hermit.”

“If you’re a hermit, my good man, why is your table set for four?”

“That’s nothing. My alarm is set for eight.”

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