Ep. 3 - THE PUDDLE & GOSLING

Episode 3

Scuddy Corners Welcomes You, Pt. 3

As Mart followed the waitress inside, she overcame her bewilderment just long enough to register the name of the café: The Puddle & Gosling. This curious title curled in golden script over the front door, weaving whimsically around the painted image of a baby goose admiring its reflection in a pool of water. The paint had somehow been made to look iridescent; the gosling’s glinting eyes almost seemed to dart back and forth, like a gossip observing the street scene.

Inside, the café was crammed with vagabonds and intellectuals, with a sprinkling of businessmen and ordinary-looking folks. Some of the customers were foreigners, although there were few Tolies. Not all the customers were human, either – Mart spotted a party of Fibbrish Forest pixies sipping dragonccinoes in the back corner.

 The waitress deposited Mart at the front counter and disappeared through a swinging door. Standing there alone, Mart began to feel quite self-conscious. After three days sleeping in ditches without bathing or changing clothes, she was a disaster to behold. Anyone could tell she was a refugee. But the customers largely ignored her. Perhaps they had become used to such spectacles.

Finally, the kitchen door swung open and a man emerged. He was tall, thin, and more than usually green-eyed, with a debonair slick of coal-black hair. Though his tuxedo was shabby, he wore it with a great deal of panache.

“Mart Kokostolie,” the man declared. “25 years old, medium height, grey eyes, small nose, large freckles.” He examined her. “I expected a strawberry-blond, but I suppose most of that is dirt.”

Mart was not too confused to feel indignant. But before she could protest, the man said, “Not to worry, we don’t hire solely for appearance. I’m simply verifying the details I was given. You are you, are you not?”

Mart nodded dumbly.

“Excellent. I, of course, am me, which is the owner of this café. My name is too long to be bothered with. Around here I am known as the Falconer.” A warm, beautiful, comforting smile spread over his handsome face. “You may call me ‘Boss’.”

“I…You want to hire me?”

“What I want is largely irrelevant. I was told you were coming, and in these matters I choose to obey. However, you seem perfectly pleasant. I’m quite sure we’ll get along.”

Seeing Mart’s puzzlement, the Falconer continued. “Why don’t you start tomorrow. You seem a bit out of sorts. Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

“My room?”

“Yes, my instructions were quite precise. Room and board is to be the arrangement. I hope you don’t mind living above the café; I’m not exactly a real estate baron. Follow me.”

Moments later, Mart was ascending a narrow staircase behind the kitchen. The Falconer unlocked one of two crooked doors from the landing to reveal a modest, dingy flat. To Mart, exhausted as she was, it looked like paradise.

The Falconer pressed the key into her hand. “Mart Kokostolie,” he said, “Scuddy Corners welcomes you.”