The Apple of Tell
Hi, I'm the apple. No! Not that Apple - they don't grow on trees, do they? I'm the apple of Tell, you know, Bill, Wilhelm.
Well, there I was, minding my own business up in my tree by the market place, getting plump and red in the sun.
That rotten old Sheriff Gessler was throwing his weight around as usual. He'd been sent by the Hapsburgs to keep the good people of Altdorf in line. He was a bighead, that one. Stuck his hat with a peacock's feather up on a pole and made everyone bow down before it. The pole swayed in the wind and the feathers tickled my nose. I sneezed and the poor people looked up and Gessler clobbered them. "Fools," he said. "Apples can't sneeze!" Well, I can tell you they can. They can do more than that!
I was wiping my nose when a big bearded stranger passed the marketplace with his son. He walked right past that hat with the feathers. Ignored it.
"Arrest him!" Gessler cried and then grabbed me down from my branch.
"Ouch! Yuck!" His hands were fat and clammy. He grabbed the boy and put me on the boy's head. I kept wobbling about. We were both scared. Then we froze as Gessler yelled at the man, Bill Tell was his name, to hit the apple, that's me, off his son's head with a crossbow!
I closed my eyes. All of a sudden I split apart. Neat, clean, two perfect pieces. Both of me fell to the ground. Yikes! I was red on the outside and white on the inside. Gessler started screaming and stomping around. As the boy scooped me up, his father grabbed his hand and we were off like greased lightning, over the hills and across the lake.
Well, you know what happens to apples, don't you. They either rot or get eaten up. Guess it was best to be munched by the son of a hero. The boy bit each piece of me in half and as I became part of the food chain, I heard Bill say: "Hey, red and white and the cross of my bow. We'll fly our own flag one day. Now to go back and get Gessler."
"Yeah!" I said as the boy munched the fourth piece of me.
"Glad you agree, son. Let's go."
-----
Published online at Bergli Book's Silly Swiss Stories page in 2004.
Well, there I was, minding my own business up in my tree by the market place, getting plump and red in the sun.
That rotten old Sheriff Gessler was throwing his weight around as usual. He'd been sent by the Hapsburgs to keep the good people of Altdorf in line. He was a bighead, that one. Stuck his hat with a peacock's feather up on a pole and made everyone bow down before it. The pole swayed in the wind and the feathers tickled my nose. I sneezed and the poor people looked up and Gessler clobbered them. "Fools," he said. "Apples can't sneeze!" Well, I can tell you they can. They can do more than that!
I was wiping my nose when a big bearded stranger passed the marketplace with his son. He walked right past that hat with the feathers. Ignored it.
"Arrest him!" Gessler cried and then grabbed me down from my branch.
"Ouch! Yuck!" His hands were fat and clammy. He grabbed the boy and put me on the boy's head. I kept wobbling about. We were both scared. Then we froze as Gessler yelled at the man, Bill Tell was his name, to hit the apple, that's me, off his son's head with a crossbow!
I closed my eyes. All of a sudden I split apart. Neat, clean, two perfect pieces. Both of me fell to the ground. Yikes! I was red on the outside and white on the inside. Gessler started screaming and stomping around. As the boy scooped me up, his father grabbed his hand and we were off like greased lightning, over the hills and across the lake.
Well, you know what happens to apples, don't you. They either rot or get eaten up. Guess it was best to be munched by the son of a hero. The boy bit each piece of me in half and as I became part of the food chain, I heard Bill say: "Hey, red and white and the cross of my bow. We'll fly our own flag one day. Now to go back and get Gessler."
"Yeah!" I said as the boy munched the fourth piece of me.
"Glad you agree, son. Let's go."
-----
Published online at Bergli Book's Silly Swiss Stories page in 2004.
© 2006 Sylvia Petter
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