Writing Prompt

Hamlet arrived at the inn with straw in his hair and manure smeared on his pants and tunic.

"Regular day I see, my son," Father said as Hamlet padded to the wash basin.

Hamlet dropped a burlap sack at his feet and jerked the handle on the pump a few times until water started to gush out, replied with a grunt.

"Going to need help with the chickens tonight, Bettina has fallen ill again -- oh strewth!"

Mother at the door, egg basket in her hand.

"Hamlet, you oaf! You've done it again, haven't you?"

"What, Mum?"

"It. You've done IT. Again. Look at you! I mean, look at you! The state of your clothing!"

Father looked at Hamlet anew. "Don't see nothin' amiss," he said.

"You never would, lummox. You're just as bad as he is, rollin' about in the stuff."

"You did, I pray, get the, ah, things I asked for?"

"Yes, Mum," Hamlet said, giving the burlap sack a gentle kick. The sack's contents squirmed.

"Should haven known you'd do it again. Still, it does get you home faster."

"What?" Father asked.

"Sent him to Fergus I did," Mother said. "Fetching supplies for the . . gentlemen due to arrive tomorrow morning. They made explicit instructions. Promised six gold coins atop the daily rent if we did so. So I sent him."

"And I got them, didn't I?"

"Yes you did. But silly boy, you know Fergus is on the other side of the river. Told you to take the boat I did. Gave you tuppence to pay your fare, both ways. I'll wager you saved tuppence to buy sweets in Fergus, didn't you?"

Hamlet smiled. "The catapult is a lot faster."