The Pardoner's Tale
The Host (and Skep) has had it up to here with the dark and depressing shit, so he asks the Pardoner to tell something fun and bawdy. However, the rest of the travelers don't want this to devolve into another Reeve's Tale, so they push for something with a moral instead. The Pardoner says, fine, I got a story like that, but I'm not drunk enough to tell it yet.
He gets arguably a little too drunk, because then he says, okay, listen up you little snots, this story is going to be about greed and avarice, and nobody knows about it better than I do, because I've been using my position to make some coin on the side selling pardons that definitely didn't come from no bishop. And for the people that ain't sinners, I got some fake relics to sell to them fools. Yeah, it's all a scam, but what's the harm in taking some coin to clear the conscience of the guilty? So I've made a good life for myself, but also, don't try this at home kids, it's definitely real bad. Now shut up and let me tell you this story.
In Flanders, there lived three frat brothers who did nothing but party all the time. They constantly overindulged on booze, were always gambling, and swore up a storm. Now, let me lecture you about the dangers of drink. Really warps your mind, makes you give in to sins like gluttony and lust without knowing what you're doing. Like, you all remember Lot, from the Bible, wife turned into a pillar of salt? And you remember how his daughters got him drunk and seduced him?
Skep: WHAT are you kidding, they never told us that story in Sunday school. Dear god the Bible has a lot of weird-ass shit in it. I definitely need to read it sometime.
The Pardoner continues on for two more pages complaining about booze; Skep checks out for a bit.
Pardoner: "And that's what I have to say about drinking."
Skep: "Oh thank goodness it's over."
Pardoner: "Now let me talk about the dangers of gambling."
Skep: "OH SON OF A—"
After spending a few more pages ranting about gambling and even swearing, we are now halfway through the story, and we haven't even gotten to the plot yet. I guess we needed to pad out the Pardoner's runtime, because his actual story is pretty straightforward.
So the frat bros are half-passed out at some bar when they hear the wheels of a cart outside, followed by Eric Idle shouting "bring out yer dead!". One of the brothers asks his errand boy to find out the name of the poor dead bastard on the wagon.
"Oh, the townspeople already told me his name, he was an old friend of yours," he says, never actually giving the guy's name like he was asked. "He passed out drunk on some bench, and Death came and took him. You never know when Death will strike," says the young boy, having already made peace with his own mortality, probably after reading some of the earlier Tales.
"The kid speaks the truth," adds the tavern-keeper. "Why, just the next town over, Death got a handful of people just this last year."
"Right! Well it sounds like somebody needs to teach this Death a lesson!" says one of the frat bros.
The boy and the barman exchange a look. "You know Death as a character is just a metaph—"
"Away!" cry the frat bros, and all three start stumbling down the road toward the other village.
As they roll into town, they're greeted by a wretched man who looks way too old to still be alive.
"Hey, check out this geezer!" says one of the frat bros. "Listen Pops, you look like you've done a hell of a good job avoiding Death for so long. How do you do it?"
"You think this is intentional?" replies the old man. "Ha! Look at me, my skin is practically falling off, and my body is one giant constant ache. I keep complaining to Death to come for me so I can just be done with it all, but he refuses me the mercy."
"Wait, so you're saying you've talked to Death?" asks one of the bros.
The old man blinks. "What? You know I'm speaking in metapho—"
"Listen! You have to tell us where to find Death!"
Shrugging, the old man says, "Fine. You can find Death at that big oak tree in the woods over there. Weirdos."
The frat brothers go to the oak tree, but they do not find Death. However, they do find piles upon piles of gold coins. Death is quickly forgotten about.
"Hey, isn't it weird how there's just a bunch of random cash just sitting unprotected under this tree we were directed to?" asks nobody. Instead, their eyes fill with dollar signs, and they agree to split the money.
"But wait," says one of the frat bros, one single hint of logic fighting its way to the top of his mind through the drunken haze, "this is so much gold, and if we just wheel it through town, people will think we stole it. We'll have to wait until night. Let's draw straws, and whoever draws the short straw has to go to town and gets us some food for today, and the other two will guard the money."
The youngest brother loses the draw and sets off. No sooner than he's gone do the two remaining frat bros decide, you know, we could just kill him and take his share.
Meanwhile, the younger frat bro in town decides, you know, I could just kill them and take their shares.
So he goes to the apothecary to buy some poison "to get rid of some rats and polecats getting into my chicken coop."
"Got it," replies the apothecary. "Here, take the deadliest poison I have."
He poisons some wine, then takes it to his brothers, who immediately shank him. Pleased with their success, the two remaining frat brothers take a celebratory drink of wine, and they die as well.
Here ends the Pardoner's Tale.
"So anyway being greedy doesn't pay," says the Pardoner. "So who wants to buy a relic, or a pardon? What about you, Host? You look like you could go for a relic."
"Are you so drunk that you forgot telling us you were a con man?" asks the Host. "I'd rather chop off your testicles and carry them with me instead."
"Whoa whoa whoa, let's not start a fight here," interjects the Knight. "C'mon guys, kiss and make up."
They do.