Let me take this first prose as an opportunity to extend my deepest appreciation for the chance to become a part of such a great ‘Institution’. When Mr. Elliott came to me with the invitation, I must say, I was rather reluctant – unsure really if I had what it took. After my initiation, however, I felt much more comfortable and at home here at the Pufs Institute. It is so delicately nestled in the grounds of GrundleWood Manor; a true testament to the dedication of those within the Institute’s boundaries.
My name is Edwyn, meaning ‘rich friend’. And may I interject to say that I have never been a rich friend to anyone, nor do I know any companions, friends, or have any such a relationship with a ‘rich’ person. On the other hand, I suppose the olde English name could be referring to a state of having a ‘rich character’, thus meaning I am a ‘rich friend’ in the sense of being of significant worth to a peer and/or counterpart … Enough said.
I’m excited to say I found my calling here, with the help of Dr. Pufs and his admirable sidekick, Bertrand. A modest occupation, tending to the drunkards in the basement barkeep. The regulars offer a kind smile, respect, and moderate tips. The locals usually are the rambunctious ones, thinking they undoubtedly own the place due to their residency outside the manor. But most of all, I will admit, I enjoy the late night sit downs with Dr. Pufs, Bertrand and, more recently, Mr. Elliott, who was just divorced by his wife.
I’ll have to get back though, as it seems happy hour is about to start … I fear my inventory of the Buffel Flugels is low so I will have to conjure up a substitute without raising too much suspicion. — Thanks again.