The Person and the Ingot of Gold

This is a fable. And I, I am one of the greatest fable-tellers of all-time. Perhaps that in itself is a fable, perhaps not. Perhaps I am just a used-car salesman. Perhaps not.
But in all honesty, I am one of the greatest fable-tellers of all-time. And being as I am one of the greatest fable-tellers of all-time, I had decided that I need an appendage to my name, as is the fashion, one no less fit for a king. In fact, that was it, I had chosen Asop the King at first, before even sitting down to write, but I began getting strange mail regarding affairs of the state and a great deal of visits from people claiming to represent Mongol hordes who insisted on burning my house down. After three or four of these visits and a brief chat with the King's guards and them explaining some whole thing about divine right and a little matter of being drawn and quartered and then burning down my neighbour's house, I decided that it was best to choose another name. My neighbour was very supportive in choosing another one.
Asop the Splendid sounded a bit too stuffy, perhaps not as virile as I would like, either. I had already been called quite a few names which didn't quite suit the image for which I was looking, and which were horribly less virile than Asop the Splendid, so I was not too amenable to that nickname but desired something entirely different, something that would not banish all thoughts of any shortcomings, but would rather never even give reason for them to arise. Asop the Metaphysical Conundrum Of A Thursday Afternoon Lull proved a bit too abstract, and quite difficult to remember. Though virile, very virile. Just tough to get out all at once. After years of thought and five fables later, I have decided to announce the new appendage to my name, realising fully that I will more than likely change it again very quickly after I've become bored with it and it has passed out of style.
So finally it came down to Asop the Pretty Wonderful Guy. Which I think is quite suitable.

And now on to the fable:

Once upon a time, there was a man, seated at a table. It was a solid, rough hewn table, which are the best tables to be seated at, though not quite so good for leaning upon, which one may take care to do occasionally at a table, and happened to be what this man was doing as he contemplated the empty glass before him. Unluckily, due to a misremembering of an axiom he was once told, he assumed, because of the empty glass, that he must be a pessimist.

And he was going on, believing things to be quite bleak indeed when he noticed an ingot of gold also occupying the table, and which he had not noticed initially. And, seeing as how ingots of gold normally receive quite enthusiastic welcomes upon being noticed and are indeed prone to quick notice, he was quite disturbed that he had not noticed it until just now. He was beginning to get very distraught, as things were decidedly not going his way as far as states of being and value went.

And that, to put the finishing touch on the afternoon, is when the ingot asked him if he had the time.
"Time? I think it's about eleven."
"Good, then."

Someone at the bar clinked their glass against the metal rail running around the edge of the bar and the bartender yelled something unintelligible at the person.

"Umm... so... I haven't seen any ingots of gold in here unattended before. Are you with anyone?"
"Oh no, just taking in a bit of the local culture."
"Ah, I see. Holiday?"
"No, just a daytrip."
"Ah then, nice. I wish I could afford a bit of a daytrip myself, been having terrible money troubles, terrible troubles in general. And now it turns out that I'm a pessimist and all, and seem to have a few splinters imbedded in my arm, which aren't helping things any, either. Oh, oh, here you go, here's a good example, for an instance. Here I was sitting here, contemplating the empty glass here, and you know what? I completely fail to notice the ingot of gold, you, yourself, sitting not a meter from me. Now someone like that's got to have some serious problems."

The ingot just sat there.

The bartender yelled something equally unintelligible at the person who had clinked his glass against the edge of the bar who was now swaying precariously away from the bar, which apparently had been keeping him upright, and whose situation was made all the more precarious by the little woman seated next to him at the bar who began poking him sharply just underneath his ribs and giggling.

"Don't you agree? I mean, come on, gold, man, not the sort of thing you just happen to overlook."
"Yes, I suppose it is a bit odd."
"Odd? Absolutely loony, I might say."

The ingot nodded idly, taking the opportunity to survey the room for any more open tables.

"What sort of provider would I be if I was letting ingots of gold pass right by me, sitting on my table the whole time without taking notice of them? This is exactly why I haven't been able to go on holiday for the longest time."

There was a great crash behind the man, and he forlornly turned his head towards the bar, where the man who had been swinging wildly from his stool now lay on the floor, and the woman who'd been poking was leaping up and down and screeching, while the bartender waved at her with a broom. When the man turned back to his table he sunk a little bit further into his depression when he noticed that the ingot of gold was gone.

Having no overwhelming reason to remain at the table, as he had gotten his arm off the table, albeit with a few large souvenirs from the table implanted therein, the man took his glass and took up a seat at a safe distance from the person on the floor and the bouncing woman. Or possibly it wasn't quite a safe distance, but it made him more comfortable to know that he would have a fair amount of time to react if either they or anything they threw was heading towards himself.

"Have another drink here?"

"Sure, why not," and the bartender poured another glass for the man.

"Ever get the feeling you're just not doing something quite right? That maybe you've missed out something really good?"
"All the time, mate, all the time."
The man just sighed, dipped his head down towards his mug, and then lifted it back up again to the bartender. "Ehm, you wouldn't happen to have seen what happened to my trousers, did you?"

The Moral: Always watch your trousers around ingots of gold, as they'll steal you blind as the day is long if given half the chance.