NothingToDread.com

Here's a short story that doesn't contain sex or nudity.

On his way home from the docks, a stevedore, let's call him Stephano, met a peddler selling exotic pastries shaped like various birds and animals. Some were shaped like doves, while others took the form of elks and lions. A pastry created in the image of a beautiful harem girl captured Stephano's eye.

The peddler, no lamb to the task, instantly knew what held the labors gaze. He smiled and asked, "Do you like Khabalina my friend?"

"The one shaped like the girl?"

"Yes, I call her Khabalina", replied the peddler. "Do you like Khabalina my friend?" repeated the peddler.

"It is beautiful", replied Stephano, "I've never seen anything like it."

"Ah, a gentleman of exquisite tastes. Khabalina is my finest pastry made with the finest butter, purest honey, hand selected nuts, grains, and berries. She is filled with exotic spices from far of lands, and of course the secret ingredient passed down to me by the true Khabalina. I'm afraid that Khabalina is out of your reach. Only the finest gentleman can afford her pleasures".

"How much?" demanded Stephano.

"One gold sovereign" replied the peddler.

"One gold sovereign!" exclaimed the shocked stevedore. One-tenth the price of a home for a pastry? Madness!

"My friend, I told you Khabalina is only for the finest gentlemen. I make one a month, and no more. Khabalina's ingredients are very special. She is not for everyone I'm afraid. How about some nice baklava? One drachma buys two pieces". The peddler added that all his baklava contained a trace of Khabalina's secret ingredient.

Stephano walked home chewing on the terrible baklava. It had a strange aftertaste. Despite the fact that the baklava tasted like shit, Stephano couldn't shake the thought of a pastry so exotic that the city's finest gentleman would pay a whole sovereign for a chance to taste it. What might something like that be like? Stephano decided to begin saving. One day, he too would experience a pleasure reserved for only the finest gentleman.

Over the course of the next six months, Stephano worked his ass off. He skipped meals, stayed in on Saturday night, and stayed away from the games of chance on the dock. He worked extra shifts and saved his money. Just before Christmas, Stephano had enough saved to exchange for a gold sovereign picturing honoring George V on its face, and St. George slaying a dragon on its reverse. Worrying that someone might try to rob him, Stephano held the gold coin between his teeth. At first sign of trouble, Stephano would swallow the coin until trouble and the coin royal visage passed through his intestines.

He searched for the peddler on the docks and he searched every side street and alley in the marketplace. The peddler was nowhere to be found. Stephano was about to give up when he stopped for water at the fountain serving the metropolitan's cathedral. Just then he spotted the peddler near the cathedral gate. Clutching the sovereign between his teeth, Stephano ran to the peddler. Spitting the coin into his palm, the excited stevedore stepped between a well-dressed gentleman and the peddler. After all the saving, Stephano wasn't willing to risk having to wait another month for the special pastry.

The startled peddler stared at Stephano, and then smiled in recognition. "Hello my friend. Have you come to look at beautiful Khabalina?"

"I've come to buy her"

My friend, the price has not changed. I'm afraid that I can not sell you Khabalina for less than one gold sovereign".

"I have one gold sovereign"

"You have one gold sovereign? Let me see" demanded the skeptical peddler.

Stephano opened his palm and revealed the mostly dry sovereign. He wiped the remaining saliva on his shirt, and handed the coin to the peddler. The peddler examined the coin, and then placed it in his own mouth to check the gold's malleability. Verifying that it was in fact a gold sovereign. The peddler winked, and congratulated Stephano's good fortune. He wrapped "Khabalina" in fine parchment and handed her to the overjoyed stevedore.

Stephano rushed home with his treasure tucked under his arm. On the way, he decided to make his pleasure last. He would eat Khabalina slowly. On the first day, he nibbled at the honey-drenched dough that made up her hands and feat. On the second day, he nibbled on her crispy arms and legs. Another day was dedicated to her face and hair. Finally the day came to sample Khabalina's exotic filling. He closed his eyes and bit deep into the pastry's center. He held the filling in his mouth hoping to make the experience last. Again he recognized the strange flavor present in the baklava. He didn't quite like the flavor, but he assumed that it was one of those "acquired tastes" that an educated palate grew to appreciate. Savoring the flavor an image gradually crept into his mind. He recognized the peddlers "secret ingredient" and began to vomit.

The next morning, instead of reporting to work, Stephano began searching for the crooked peddler. Again he searched every street, alley and stall of the marketplace. He searched the docks, he searched the tenements, and he searched the bars and brothels. Eventually he found the peddler near the entrance to the courthouse. Before Stephano could force the peddler into a nearby alley, a nearby policeman who objected to the razor against the peddler's pale throat ran over and disarmed the angry stevedore.

The cop demanded an explanation, and Stephano replied with the story of the preceding six months. He told the cop about the deprivation, starvation, toil and sweat that it took to earn that sovereign. He told the cop about the days he spent savoring the pastry's arms and legs, dreaming of that first bite into Khabalina's exotic filling only to end up with a very expensive mouthful of donkey shit!

Praying for a denial, the shocked police officer looked to the peddler for his side of the story. Instead of denying Stephano's version of the events, the price of Khabalina, or the pastry's filling, the peddler smiled and asked Stephano, "Would the Khabalina have tasted any better if she was priced the same as the one drachma shit filled baklava I sold you six months ago?"

Stephano thought for a moment, and said "Of course! The baklava tasted like shit but that's what I expected when you let me have two for a drachma you shit peddling son of a bitch!"

Are you still here? I came up with the story of Stephano and the donkey shit pastry when somebody asked me why I think that arranged marriages seem to last longer than those resulting from personal choice. My guess is that people in arranged marriages have lower expectation, and people are willing to eat more shit when they have low expectations. By the way, Khabalina (καβαλίνα) means horse shit in Greek.