🍺🍂 Welcome to Zwergenbach!

Today the village is celebrating.

The square is dressed in blue and white, the lights hang between the houses, and the market stalls are already waiting for the food that is about to arrive.

The tables are empty… for now.

The mugs are still waiting to be filled, the musicians have not yet begun to play, and the villagers bustle about, getting everything ready because, before long, there will not be room for another soul.

Because today, one of the most eagerly awaited celebrations of the year is taking place:

Zwergenbach’s Oktoberfest! 🍺🥨🎻

And while everything is being prepared…

THE ATTIC’S NAUGHTYLY DICTIONARY: ENOUGHYPY

Enoughypy

Verb. To keep messing with something after it was already good, usually because stopping at the right moment seemed far too sensible.

“Enough! Stop enoughypying it. It was perfectly fine!”

THE ATTIC’S NAUGHTYLY DICTIONARY: POPPOTTY

Poppotty

Verb. To touch, fiddle with, or mess around with things for no good reason, often managing to leave them worse than they were before.

“Don’t poppotty that. It was perfectly fine.”

WHO IS PROFESSOR CEBASTINA TYMPANIA?

Musicologist. Researcher. Onionian percussionist. And, according to some witnesses, responsible for making an onion cry without having to cut it.

Professor Sebastina Tympania has devoted much of her career to studying a phenomenon that conventional science has yet to confront:

onions have rhythm.

From the depths of the ancient Onionian archives, Tympania has collected testimonies, impossible sheet music, and various instruments that nobody knows exactly who manufactured.

Her specialty is applied vegetable percussion, a discipline that combines musicology, botany, and a worrying quantity of onions.

According to the professor, each variety of onion has its own frequency.

According to her colleagues, the professor simply hits onions until one of them sounds different.

She rejects these accusations.

And keeps playing.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Because, as she states in one of her most controversial works:

“If the Onion has a voice, someone will have to play its drums.”

The rest of the scientific community has yet to decide whether this is a revolutionary theory or a cry for help.

THE MYSTERY OF THE GREAT ONION

A Curious Discovery at Loch’s Cave

By Professor Fergus Clockmannaan

For many years, scholars of the Onionshire tradition have debated whether the Great Onion was ever anything more than a legend passed down through ancient manuscripts.

Last autumn, beneath the ancient stones of Loch’s Cave, I discovered a chamber that does not appear on any of the maps I have been able to consult.

It was cold, damp, and covered in a layer of dust that appeared not to have been disturbed for decades. At the far end of the chamber lay the object that is the subject of this article.

It was an onion.

But not an onion like those we know.

Its appearance was ancient, its colour faded violet, and its outer layers seemed to have dried without ever actually rotting.

I took notes, made a sketch, and collected several fragments of soil from around it.

I cannot claim that it was the Great Onion described in the oldest accounts of Onionshire.

But there was something about that chamber that made me wonder whether the old accounts were perhaps not as fanciful as we had once chosen to believe.

I returned three days later.

The chamber was still there.

The onion was not.

Prof. Fergus Clockmannaan
Expeditionary Scholar & Independent Researcher
Loch’s Cave, 1897