So lean back against that tree trunk which will scratch you in all the right places, prop your laptop up on your knees and enjoy...
STARDUST IN THE MUSTACHE
"Do you wish to leave this accursed land or not ?" Stranya shouts and the two sides of his mustache flap lamely like the wings of an injured bird. Speckles of stardust are shaken free from deep within the roots of his mustache.
Frandolisa cannot help but giggle.
"Am I never to be taken seriously ?" he shouts in a louder tone of voice.
"Yes, your Mr Royal Highness. I vow that I shall forever take you seriously. Even if you were to fart and fall in a pigsty, I would salute your slop coated inner dignity."
And Frandolisa bursts out laughing.
At the sight of this Stranya turns red with rage. "Where are the stars disappearing to ? How is it that I place them securely in the trunk of our tree and yet when I return they are no longer there ?"
"Perhaps the stars are falling within the fissures of the tree, slipping back along the roots into the ground where they came from. It's been known to happen." She blinks away all playful fictions, like a child waking up from a dream.
He considers her theory and contemplates a new hiding place. If he can save up a sufficient number of stars, he can trade them in for drooples which will secure them passage on a train to a better land.
Deep in thought, he walks away kicking the ground in hopes of turning up a star or two which will be stored in his mustache.
She cannot understand how he wants to leave their land which is littered with stars and canopied with the patterns of their ancestors.
She is confident that his plans will always be subverted by her ancient alliance with the stars.