"Ha ha! I got his seeds!" laughed one of the children, grabbing the seed pouch that was hanging off my shoulder.
I looked around desperately. None of the other people on the street seemed interested in helping me.
Grip tightening around the handle of my cane, I shook a clenched fist at the boy. "Give that back, you little punk! Respect your elders!"
"Where's your pot hat, Johnny Appleseed?" mocked the child's friend, grabbing a palmful of seeds out of the sack and throwing them in my face.
"I have never owned a pot hat!" I desperately replied. "Please, give me back my seeds!"
A concerned looking woman pushed through a crowd that had formed to laugh at my misfortune. "There you boys are!" she exclaimed in a scolding tone. She grabbed the childrens' wrists, and they dropped my sack. "I told you to stay away from here..." She laid her cold, scrutinous eyes upon me, "...away from HIM!"
The first child looked down at the pavement. "Sorry ma. I really think he's harmless though-"
She struck him. "Boy, no one who lives in a tower is harmless! Now come, we're going home right now!"
As the two hooligans were dragged away, I stooped over and picked up the fallen sack. About half the seeds it once contained were spilled all over the street. I wrangled as many as I could, then stood, shouldered the pouch and finished the walk to my tower at the end of the block.
The horns of a traffic jam blared as I fumbled the large brass key into the keyhole. I swung open the large, heavy oak door and stepped inside onto the stone floor. A few of my wall-mounted torches had gone out, so I relit them before going upstairs.
Up three stories I walked, past the bailey, the oubliette, the garderobe, and the casemate, up to the dovecote, where the Great Bell hung. As soon as I entered, the pigeons there flocked around me.
"Hungry, are you, my lovelies?" I asked, dipping my hand into the sack. I extracted a fistful of seeds and tossed them into the air.
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