(Short Voice) #12 THE ELEPHANTS OF THE TALE - Jasons Bed Time Story Time

Hello and welcome to jasonnewland.com. My name is Jason Newland and this is Jason's Bedtime Storytime. So what I do here is I read stories and so you can go to sleep. So I'm going to read from a book called Fables by Robert Louis Stevenson from 1896.

I want to start off, you only listen when you can safely close your eyes. The first story is called The Persons of the Tale. So some of these stories are quite short so what I'm probably going to do is I might read more than one.

We'll see how we go. So there we go, get ready. The Persons of the Tale.

After the 32nd chapter of a treasure island, two of the puppets strolled out to have a pipe before business should begin again and met in an open place not far from the story. I like how this is going, very surreal. Good morning, captain, said the first with a man-of-war salute and beaming countenance.

Ah, silver, grunted the other. You're in a bad way, silver. No, captain, smollet, remonstrated silver.

Duty's duty, as I knows, and none better. But we're off duty now and I can't see no call to keep up the morality business. You're a damn rogue, my man, said the captain.

Come, come, captain, be just, returned the other. There's no call to be angry with me in earnest. I'm only a character in a sea story.

I don't really exist. I'm loving this, this is brilliant. Well, I don't really exist either, said the captain, which seems to meet, which seems to meet that.

That doesn't make sense. I wouldn't set no limits to what a virtuous character might consider argument, responded silver. But I am the villain of this tale, I am, and speaking as one a sea-farting man to another, what I want to know is what's the odds? Were you never taught your catechism, said the captain.

Catechism, what's that? C-A-T-E-C-H-I-S-M. Catechism. Catechism.

Catechism. Catechism. I don't know.

Don't you know there's such a thing as an author? Such a thing as an author, returned John derisively. And who, and who better than me? And the point, the point is, if the author made you, he made Long John, and he made Hans, and Pooh, and George Merry. Not that George is up to much or he's little more than a name.

He made Flint. What there is of him, and he made this here Mootony. You keep such a work about, and he had Tom Redruth shot.

And well, if that's an author, give me a Pooh. I'm a little bit confused from where this is going. Don't you believe in a future state, said Smollett.

Do you think there's nothing but the present story paper? I don't rightly know for that, said Silver. And I don't see what it's got to do with it anyway. What I know is this.

If there is such a thing as an author, I'm his favourite character. He does me fathoms better. He does you fathoms.

He does, and he likes doing me. Okay. He keeps me on deck mostly all the time.

Crutch and all. And he leaves you measly in the world, where nobody can't see you, nor wants to. And you may lay to that.

If there is a author, by thunder, but he's on my side, and you may lay to it. I see he's given you a long rope, said the captain. But that can't change a man's convictions.

I know the author respects me. I feel it in my bones. When you and I had that talk at the blockhouse door, who do you think he was for? My man.

And don't he respect me? cried Silver. Aye, you should have heard me putting down my mutiny. George, Mary, and Morgan, and that lot.

No longer a golden last chapter. You'd heard something then. You'd have seen what the author thinks of me.

But come now, do you consider yourself a virtuous character, clean through?" God forbid, said Captain Smollett. Solemnly. I am a man that tries to do his duty, and makes a mess of it as often as not.

I'm not a very popular man at home, Silver, I'm afraid. And the captain sighed. Ah, said Silver.

Then how about this sequel of yours? Are you to be Captain Smollett, just the same as ever, and not very popular at home, says you? And if so, why, it's Treasure Island, over again, by thunder. And I'll be Long John, and Pooh'll be Pooh, and we'll all have another mutiny, as like it or not. Or are you to be somebody else? And if so, why? What the better are you, and what the worse am I?

Why, look you, my man, returned the captain.

I can't understand how this story comes about at all, can I? I can't see how you and I, who don't exist, should be speaking here, and smoke our pipes for all the world, like reality. What's reality? I meant to say reality, not realality. Okay, let's get on with it then.

Okay. Very well, then who am I to pipe up with my opinions? I know the author's on the side of the good. He tells me so.

He runs out of his pen as he writes. Well, that's all I need to know. I'll take my chance upon the rest.

It's a fact. He seems to be against George Merry, Silver admitted amusingly. But George is a little more than a name, at the best of it, he added, brightly.

And to get into soundings for once, what is this good? I made a mutiny, and I've been a gentleman of fortune. Well, by all stories, you ain't no such saint. I'm a man that keeps company very easy, even by my own account.

You ain't. And to my certain knowledge, you're a devil to haze. Whatever that means.

Which is which? Which is good, and which is bad? Ah, you tell me that. Here we are in stays, and you may lie to it. We're none of us perfect, replied the captain.

That's a fact of religion, my man. All I can say is, I try to do my duty, and if you try to do yours, I can't compliment you on your success. So you used George, was ya? said Silver derisively.

I would be both judge and hangman for you, my man, and never turn a hair, returned the captain. But I get beyond that. It may be sound theology, but it's common sense.

That what is good is useful too. Well, there and thereabout. If I don't see up to be a thinker, now where would a story go to if there was no virtuous characters? Oh, if you go to that, replied Silver, although there would, where would a story begin if there was no villains? Well, that's pretty much my thought, said Captain Smollett.

The author has to get a story. That's what he wants, and to get a story, and to have a man like the doctor, say, given a proper chance, he has to put in men like you, and hands, and he's on the right side, and you mind your eye. You're not through this story yet.

There's trouble coming for you. What'll you bet? asked John. Much I care if there ain't, returned the captain.

I'm glad enough to be Alexander Smollett, bad as he is, and I thank my stars upon my knees that I'm Lord Silver, but there's the ink bottle opening to quarters. And indeed the author was just then beginning to write the words, chapter XXXIII, whatever that means, and they go to sleep.