An olde tale

Here's a fine tale I spun a few weeks ago for all you fine people to enjoy. Not that there's actually any one but me reading this.

This is the tale of a young man. This young man's name is Eric von Haverstamp and he lives in the quaint village of Winkledale. On any one night in Winkledale the villagers can be seen feasting and dancing the night away without a care in the world. But tonight is different... tonight young Eric has disgraced the village in such a way that none feel it appropriate to be so jovial. What could this upstanding young gent have done? I hear you ask with a hint of cinamon in your voice. Well gather round and hear a tale of adventure, proposterity and hijynx.That morning, as Eric arose, he heard the most frightful noise. Wapwapwapwapwappppp wapwapwapwpapwpawpapppppp quwwaaap!. It was the sound of his neighbour, old Prfofessor Kaverdean's new invention, the triple layered iron cheese press, in full swing. The lad quickly jumped out of bed and put on the first bit of clothing he found in order to investigate the comotion. As he ran down the street it was only then that he realised "I'm in no condition to handle triple layered cheese!". So he made a swift about face and ran down the street to the local fermentation goods store. After a hasty greeting to kind Ms. Hammerfeild the shop keep he ran down the isles in search of the requiered cheese handling clothing. "Ms. Hammerfeild!" He hollered. "Where are the cheese gloves?" "They should be right in front of you love" The hearty mistress replied in a booming voice. "And your high molecular-weight pollyethelyne cheese tongs? Where would I find them?" It was at this point that Ms. Hammerfeild walked into the isle with her hands on her ample child baring hips and said "what mischeif are you up to today Mr. von Haverstamp? What need have you for such cheese handling equipment?" "Professor Kaverdean has finished his cheese press!" Exclaimed a slightly flustered and overly galivantagious Eric. "What business do you have with the professor's cheese?" Demanded the uncomfortably dimensioned woman. "I want to help with the cheese harvest!!" Cried Eric now desperate to get away from the store and its amply contoured owner. "There'll be no cheese for you this morining I'm afraid. I'm all out of wickershamps." Retorted the woman in all her disproportionate splendour. "Why should I need wickershamps?" Questionoed Eric."For the fermentational rights of course! You half-witted drompy scat weaver!" Shouted the puddingesque woman."A WHHHHAAAAATTTTTT!!!!!!!" Inquiered Eric."You surely are a fool von Haverstamp." Aritculated the expansive shopkeep. At this moment Eric fled the store deciding to risk serious injury over the grilling on cheese handling etiquete he was clearly about to recieve from Ms. Hammerfeild. As he ran down the street he stood on the leg of the pants he had so haistily pulled on. As he fell he felt the pants tore in a less than dignified place. As he picked him self up off the road, trying to reatain any sense of dignity he had left, he came face to face with Professor Kaverdean. "Mah chhheeeese press intrest ya does it boy? Intriuge ya does it? Fancy ya self a cheese smith does ya? Then come with me lad. And fix ya trousers, you'll catch ya deth a cold with a hole like that."Inside the professor's lab was quite a sight. There were things globbing, glooping, glubbing and grubbing. Things ticked and other things oddly enough didn't. Things that looked like they shouldn't move had an unnerving habbit of doing so, whilst normally mobile objects remained still as the ice on a lake in deep winter. Among this was the most beautiful thing Eric had seen. The triple layered iron cheese press. Of all the globbing, glooping, gubbing, grubbing, ticking, not ticking, mobile and immobile things this was the most globbing, glooping, gubbing, grubbing, ticking, not ticking, mobile and immobile of them all. It had pipes coming in and out of it all over the place, there were things spinning and wuring and steam issued forth from multiple chimnies encrusted with rivets. Eric noticed that there was a mouse in dungarees, waring a hat not unlike that of a train engineer's, franticly running around the machine with a large spanner. An adjustment here and a tinker over there. It all seemed necisary to keep the machine running. Excited, Eric ran up to the confangled contraption and stated pulling leavers in a frenzy of ill informed glee. The professor ran up and wrenched his hands away. "You fool. You've over pressurised the lactational compressing chamber. She's going to blow!" It was at this point that the mouse grabbed his metal lunch box and ran out of the lab. Just as Eric started to mouth the word "oops" the lactational compressing chamber combusted in a mighty colamity.Ms. Hammerfeild was still standing in her shop thinking about that oddly charming young man that had so recently run out of her store when it happened. A yellow flood of fermented mamary fluids came cascading down the street with Eric caught up in it. The wave contacted with the store's front window with a mighty wollop, contorting Eric in to quite a comical position. "Well you've done it this time von Haverstamp" She gumly stated whilst maintaining eye contact with the young man for a longer than comfortable period. "Now Winkledale will never be famous for triple layered cheese, only for smelling like a cheese sandwich for a whole week. I hope you're happy!" She gesticulated. "Yep I sure am!" Replied Eric. He loved the smell of cheese sandwiches.