Bartholomew & Kevin

Gluttony makes you fat.

Once upon a time, there lived a pair of Schnilerkelts. The eldest of the pair was Bartholomew the Fragrant, as he liked to be called, though Bartholomew the Flatulent was how he was known. His elegant stench lingered wherever he went, making babies cry, and old women faint. Flowers drooped in Bartholomew’s wake, as he smiled and skipped and munched on his cake. Bartholomew loved cake. He ate it once, twice, ten times a day. Never did he share, not a chance, no way. 

 

Then there was Kevin, young, fresh, and clean. He never much liked Bartholomew; he thought he was mean. But since they were neighbors, Keven tried to be civil. He said “hi,” and “bye,” and even showed Bartholomew his fiddle. Kevin was as nice as he could be, but Bartholomew was ever so mean. He smelled and he yelled and he yelled and he smelled. So, Kevin hatched a plan. Then he scrambled it, ate it, and hatched another. After all, Schnilerkelts get hungry when they scheme.

 

Kevin baked Bartholomew a cake. Not just any cake, but the most delicious cake that was ever baked, for it was filled with sugar, spice, and sprinkled with tiny mouse sprinkles he had found hidden in his pantry. However, Kevin didn’t just bake one cake, but ten cakes! Ten of the most delicious mouse-sprinkle cakes a Schnilerkelt had ever made, and they were all for Bartholomew.

 

When Bartholomew returned home that evening, he couldn’t help but smell a most succulent smell. It was the most delicious smell a Schnilerkelt had ever smelled! Then he saw, through his neighbor’s open window, the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Ten culinary masterpieces were on display. Ten beautiful cakes, and Bartholomew had eaten only nine that day. “I must have them!” he declared, “I must have them right away!”

 

To Kevin’s house he went, and he banged on the door. “Let me in, neighbor! Let me in, or I’ll knock down your door!” Just then Kevin appeared, and showed Bartholomew in. Then smash! Crash! Zippity boom bam! Bartholomew was trapped, strapped to a chair. “Untie me!” he pleaded, but his cries were in vein. Kevin had had enough of Bartholomew’s stink after all these years.

 

One by one, Kevin ate his cakes. Slowly and carefully, he ate, ate, ate. Bartholomew could do nothing but watch in terror as the last piece vanished, and sitting and fretting while tied to a chair had left him famished. “Feed me! I’ve not eaten for hours! My stomach is empty, and all your cakes have been devoured!” 

 

With a maniacal twinkle in his eye, Kevin replied, “I’ll feed you, Bartholomew, and seeing as it’s my cakes you so desperately desire, allow me a few moments in the washroom to cook them up. But I fear they won’t taste nearly as good going in as they’re going to feel coming out!”