I love your stories. Tell me a story, Mama. Pleeease.
Okay. So there was this man. He lived all by himself in a hut at the top of the mountain.
But why was he all by himself? Where were his parents?
His parents were dead. He was a very old man. He smoked a pipe. To keep himself busy, he carved little animals out of blocks of wood. One day he carved a horse with a beak. The next day he carved a rabbit with three ears. The next day he carved a fish with a full head of hair and a bow in its tail fin. He carved one creature every day. After a week, he had 7. After a year, he had 365. After ten years, he had 3,652. He had little animals on six shelves in his hut. Then they were all over his floor. Then he started lining them up around his garden.
Noooo! I don't want to hear anymore! (She covers her ears. I have to admit, I am getting creeped out too by the way things are headed. Do I take it this to it's inevitable twisted end, or do a flip-flop into a happy scenario, unlikely for even an imaginary world?)
Okay. So there was this man. He lived all by himself in a hut at the top of the mountain.
But why was he all by himself? Where were his parents?
His parents were dead. He was a very old man. He smoked a pipe. To keep himself busy, he carved little animals out of blocks of wood. One day he carved a horse with a beak. The next day he carved a rabbit with three ears. The next day he carved a fish with a full head of hair and a bow in its tail fin. He carved one creature every day. After a week, he had 7. After a year, he had 365. After ten years, he had 3,652. He had little animals on six shelves in his hut. Then they were all over his floor. Then he started lining them up around his garden.
Noooo! I don't want to hear anymore! (She covers her ears. I have to admit, I am getting creeped out too by the way things are headed. Do I take it this to it's inevitable twisted end, or do a flip-flop into a happy scenario, unlikely for even an imaginary world?)
