The Story of Lord Crema

​Lord Crema was a Narcoleptic Lord born in the middle Ages. He was an unbelievable fighter, but for one weakness – he would randomly fall asleep in the middle of a battle. He awoke one day to find himself tied to a medieval bench in a medieval village square that belonged to the enemy.  The enemy had captured him in the heart of battle moments after he had dozed off. The Enemy tried to torture Lord Crema, but without much success.  He kept falling asleep, depriving them of the desired shrieks and squeals of utter pain. This would usually bring much amusement and joy to the torturers, soldiers and random onlookers, who were most likely buying medieval groceries. This part of Town was known as the ‘humour reservoir’, the majority of the village laughter took place here. Whenever the people wanted a good laugh, a cheeky giggle or solid chuckle, this is where you would head to and let the mirth spill forth.
Lord Crema’s condition brought gloom to the whole town. There were no shrieks or squeals from the captive lord; there was only the gentle intake of fresh air as Lord Crema breathed in, and the puff of a light, not-so-fresh breeze that escaped his lips on the exhale. This was not funny. This brought no laughter to the villagers. King Enemy grew desperate when he started to feel the trust of his people dwindle. When his people weren’t happy their minds turned to other things, like the ever increasing taxes, the food shortage, or the unjust jailing of a relative or friend (or a captured pet).  Making people laugh was a cheap way of keeping his people distracted and in line.  The King ordered that Lord Crema receive ‘The Beverage’’ - The Kings drink. The only drink that the king drunk. One time the King let the whole village taste ‘The Beverage’ just so they would know what they were missing out on every day for the rest of their lives. The beverage would make one mighty; It had the power to supress sleep and replace it with wakedness, which was most beneficial to Lord Crema considering his narcoleptic condition.
Lord Crema loved this drink from the very first sip, and looked forward to it every morning (although he thought it needed improving) but he really did not fancy the agony inflicted by the soldiers that followed. The village was happy again. But one morning slightly too much of the Beverage was given to Lord Crema, and the chains that held him busted, he slew the enemy knights, stormed the castle, extracted the secret recipe of this wondrous drink from the medieval barista, smacked the king, and as he galloped out of the castle gates he up-rooted the plant that was needed to make this illustrious beverage. He sought sanctuary at a monastery, where he perfected the Beverage, and called it ‘Coffee’. He left the monastery on good terms, met a beautiful woman who became Lady Crema, bought a castle with a drawbridge and a moat. Here in his castle, he set up shop, designed, created, perfected and acquired unheard-of wondrous beverages which he meticulously detailed in his memoirs, which I have followed even more meticulously.
Lord Crema’s mere servant
Paul