Preface

_{Jack was a burly man with burly features. Hence the usage of the word burly. Which I have to yet see used in reference to hunky and Jacks' features were more in line with the "urly" part and therefor burly is the best word to use when describing Jack.}

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As a side note, I like the name Jack because it was the first name that came to me. Unlike finding images to write about or to start writing from, Jack was simple. Yes, he was simple and it was a simple name to think of. It just came to me so to speak.

I also noticed I used the word "was" which indicates I am telling a story from the past or maybe that Jack is dead. Now for all intents and purposes, he is not dead, but he is yet to live also. Which tense I am to use I do not know, but the story will be told.

So back to Jack, and the picture of barrels. What do the barrels have to do with anything?

Well, apart from them catching my eye when scrolling through a randomly chosen page on pixabay. They do not have much to do with the story. Yet...

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The Jacks ~ Yonder

_{Jack had a wife called Jacklyn and their little girl just called Jacky. She was not a boy because of gender equality. Jack stays a boy because, well he just came to me and you can't change that. Fin.}

Together they are known as the Jacks family and not the Poppers which would be fun to change to Poopers but Jack will fucking mangle you. The town thus knows to call them Lady Jack and Sir Jack, with every effort to call Jacklyn, Lady Jacky being met with a very stern "No. It is Lady Jack."

The Jacks and their town live over yonder ocean where things happen which do not happen on the other side yonder ocean. This is a phenomenon known as "never been there" phenomenon in which this side of yonder has never been that side of yonder and thus no one knows what happens yonder.

It must be strange indeed since this side of yonder is surely the normal side; this does not exclude the "grass is greener" phenomenon and those that do travel yonder to find out, just have not returned to inform anyone neither here nor do they seemingly speak of their origins there.

Lady Jack is a stern sexy little thing, often wearing what is dubbed her armour due to the colour of her dresses being so close to that of tanned leather in contrast with the silver bangles. No gold on this Lady though, it is far too refined and her scowl would crack a diamond. The prettiest scowl, enough to shatter your heart. We all know that to be a heart attack, but things are different yonder.

Baby Jack, that is Jacks' little girl. Well, she is now a teenager and no one really gets to speak with her or wants to so I will just move along from that.

Sir Jack, it is Sir because Mr Jack is the old guy down the road. Maybe once he dies Jack will take the throne of Mr. and leave all this pompous Sir. business behind him. It has been a long time coming, this section about Jack.

Five Hundred and Sixty words later...

Sir Jack or just Jack as his friends call him is the local brewer. He makes all the beer for all the pubs and some wine for the cheaper Churches. He also makes all the other things he can in barrels and for an entire list you might want to just google that; ok.

It is worth mentioning that the more pompous Churches only import wine from someplace where wine gets imported from which again would be yonder adjacent and therefore is better, but different.

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The Priest ~ From Yonder

<sub>The old priests of the pompous Church were very much set in their way, they controlled quite a bit of the town in the background with very little being directly attributed to them apart from their clearly inundated amounts of wine they get delivered once a month.

Which is only linked to the town through the fact that the import tax or more specifically yonder tax has bought a few rounds at the no less than three pubs in town. All of which Jack supplies with alcohol.</sub>

Now, business is just peachy in the town of The Jacks, with nothing going up by much and nothing going down by much. You could say there is an economic Autumn. It has just always been that way, you will never hear Mr Jack speak of times when bread cost only a penny because they trade in a currency called a tickle. No matter the amount. Everything is some part of a tickle. Like bitcoin.

The citizens of the town are the only ones in both yonders that instinctively know the meaning of -E8 on a calculator, and these have not yet been invented.

One day while Jacks wife is in the kitchen she had a thought and spoke it out loud as she does, in the kitchen. The thought was that they could really do with more Tickles; Jack obviously thought she meant a meat tickle and with kiddo not home yet he was game to impress. This is not what she meant.

He stood listening silently next to his wife, his hands creating a protective dome over his manhood as she explains what she meant. Jacks eyes followed the wooden ladle as she not only spoke words but seemed to be illustrating those words also.

"The new priest, you need to sell our wine to him. It is the only market we do not yet have, now Jacky boy. Don't you want to get out of this slump we are in?" his wife said as she batted her eyelashes at him. Jack only had one thought though.

"What slump?"

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