Chapter Two
The Drowned Duck was surprisingly busy for a village pub on a weeknight. Thelonious scurried through the door after some other patrons, who stopped to gawp at him with the usual stares of astonished disbelief. He trundled past them to a small table in the corner, tossing his deerstalker hat on top to stake his claim lest they got any ideas about commandeering the table for themselves. He examined the chalkboard menu on the wall, the crick in his neck from constantly having to look up at everything and everyone inspiring him to hasten the selection process. Sod’s Law they’d be out of what he wanted. That always happened when he had his chops watering for a specific dish.
Having decided, Thelonious made his way over to the bar to place his order, hoping that no one would step o
