In a clearing in Sherwood Forest, Robin Hood pondered what to do. He was a man of action but a little weak on pondering. So, it would be a group decision as to how the newly-formed Merry Men should proceed. As Friar Tuck, before lapsing off in an inebriated state, put it – what would be their "modus operandi"? With his bow, Robin drew the option lines in the dirt at his feet while Little John and Will Scarlet looked on. His heart was not fully in it yet, since Maid Marion hadn't arrived.
“As I see it, these are the choices.” He pointed to the four scratches as Little John counted on his fingers. “We can rob from the rich and give to the poor.” That was one. “We can rob from the poor and give to the rich. We can rob from the rich and just keep it. Or, we could rob from the poor and keep it.” As he came to his fourth finger, Little John mentioned that the rich wouldn't like it if they were robbed. He had experience with the rich. Will added that the poor wouldn't like it either. He knew them only too well.
The Friar stirred, mumbling that he too "grasped the gist of the conundrum". Little John didn't bother to ask what that meant. He folded his fingers into a fist.
Will turned a little, well, red, embarrassed that he couldn't keep up with the Friar's vocabulary, honed from Tuck's studies at the Friary in his adolescence. “How about we rob from the middle class?”
What the hell? Will and Little John had no idea what to say. It was as though they were struck dumb by another of the Friar's "cogitations"’. Robin grimaced. How many extra frown lines could he add to his face? “What are you talking about, Friar?”
Tuck wiped his mouth while shrugging his shoulders. He was the kind of person who could walk and chew at the same time. Had he been dreaming or hallucinating as Robin pondered? Didn't he realize he was dealing with a soon-to-be legendary figure of late 12th-century England? And Maid Marion, if she ever arrived, would be a second legendary figure, and a very attractive one. Yes, it was the 12th-century. Maybe the early 13th. He was apologetic. It must've been the elderberry wine that pickled his mind. "Middle class"? Who'd ever heard of such a ridiculous thing in England?
"Middle Class"? It was certainly no "socio-economic term" that the Friar ever heard at the Friary.
David Sydney is a physician. He has had pieces in Little Old Lady Comedy, 101 Words, Microfiction Monday, 50 Give or Take, Friday Flash Fiction, Grey Sparrow Journal, Bright Flash Literary Review, Disturb the Universe, R U Joking, Every Writer Magazine, Hotch Potch, Mad Swirl, Sip Cup, Literary Revelations Journal, and Rue Scribe.
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