Fried the Piper

There was once a humble county called Hilllock. It was made up of poorer or richer men and women making a living in various ways and means. Some made more than others. There was a farmer named Braff. He did fairly well for himself. He made about 5 shillings a fortnight selling his carrots in the market. There was a shepherd named Rilf. He did very well. He made about 12 shillings a month when he brought his wool into market. There was a captain named Gatty who was hired by the people of Hillock County to keep a safe watch over the county. He was handsomely paid 4 shillings a week to keep watch on the county. There was also a old bard named Binbo. He was poor. He only made about one or two shillings every time he sang a story or two, which was rare.

Then Binbo told a new story to Braff, who loved it and paid him two more times to hear it. Braff told his friends Rowbi and Dalbit about the beautiful melody. Soon word spread and everyone in the county paid to hear it too. They listened to it over supper and before bed. They listened to it in big groups and in small circles around the campfire.

One day the captain heard it and didn't like it. He banned it. The people cried "No!" Because the captain worked for them, he then repelled the law against it. He couldn't say no to them.

One day a man named Fried came into town from parts unknown. He had quite a bit of money and nothing to show for it. He called himself a piper but had no pipes. He called the county together and said they needed to incorporate. "It would cost money," said Rilf the shepherd. "How much?" asked Braff the farmer. "Only a small amount from everyone," promised Fried the piper.

The town was incorporated. They needed a mayor. Everyone knew there should be an election. Fried used his own money and the money of his new followers to throw a banquet. He paid the Bard to come play for the attendees. Everyone liked the banquet. Everyone voted for Fried.

Fried soon proposed the town build a city hall. Towns needed city halls. A tax was levied. "A small bit from everyone should suffice." That seemed fair. Fried called for a jail. Towns needed jails. He called for a mayoral mansion. Towns had mayoral mansions. He called for roads. Towns needed roads.

Soon everyone was out of money. Everyone except for the Bard. The Bard had paid an equal percentage just as everyone else, but was still better off than the others.

"The destitute state of the town must have been his fault," cried Fried. "We should tax the Bard a greater percentage because he has taken advantage of all of you!"

They took the Bard's money purse and counted its contents. Then they raised the tax equal to the amount in the bag minus 6 shillings, enough to live off of. "Greed," cried Fried, "is the injustice of our county."

Fried continued to tax the greed out of the Bard, until he only worked for what he needed. Once he finally agreed to play only two songs a week, the tax was lowered. Equality and justice was established.