Story 105

[spongetastic]

Right, then. You new arrivals aren't any good at telling stories. You should leave it to professionals like me. [he pauses to yawn] I hope you're paying attention.

Once upon a time, there were three sisters: Elsie, Lacie and Tillie and they lived at the bottom of a well. You may be wondering what they lived on. Treacle, of course, because it was a treacle well. As you might expect, it made them very ill. Now then, one day these three sisters were learning to draw... TREACLE.

[he pauses dramatically as if expecting applause]

Not to your taste, eh? In that case, I'm going to enclose a story I heard about the Man in the Moon.
                                                                  Once there             
                                                               was a great and
                                                          wise man who lived in
                                                      the moon. Every evening he
                                                     searched the stars hoping to
                                                       find a friend. To the earth
                                                         his hopeful light he did
                                                           send, hoping they'd
                                                                respond soon.

Comments

[heloise]

And did anyone?

[spongetastic]

Who knows? That was the end of the story.

[heloise]

Perhaps your storyteller was not finished.

[spongetastic]

Ends are rarely finished.

[heloise]

Loose ends. Are you fond of them?

[spongetastic]

I find them troublesome, especially on my dinner jacket.

[heloise]

Perhaps you need a new one.

[spongetastic]

Do you know a tailor, then?

[heloise]

Perhaps I do.

[spongetastic]

Either you do or you don't. It's very simple.

[heloise]

It might be, if I wished to be simple.

[spongetastic]

It's not a very important dinner jacket. I don't care either way.

[heloise]

I could give you a new one instead.

[spongetastic]

[he lets out a yawn] If you bring me a present, the Hare and Hatter will expect one, too.

[heloise]

Would they like dinner jackets too?

[spongetastic]

I can't imagine any sensible person not wanting a dinner jacket.

[heloise]

So they will have one too.

If I had a tailor, he does not know your measurements.

[spongetastic]

I should hope not. It's very personal.

[kungfuwitch]

[She does so love listening to the Dormouse recite stories. She's not even entirely sure why, though she's not one to argue with a good story teller. She smiles, resting her beak on her paws and regarding the journal]

Lovely tales, Dormouse. Let's have another.

[spongetastic]

Thank you. I think I'm awake enough for another. [or you know, he makes himself more awake]

A lion and a gryphon met one day in a field
A contest of paws would then be revealed
Whichever one lost, their fate was sealed
They'd lose their velvet forever

Judges were called from across the land
Experts on hooves, on feet on hand
Proudly the two contenders did stand
Waiting for the verdict

After debate the ruling was sound:
Of equal magnificence their paws were found
Since neither lost, neither were bound
And their paws were saved

[kungfuwitch]

[She laughs, flexing her own paws]

Oh that's delightful! Even though I certainly have the superior paws if I might say so myself.

[spongetastic]

Yes, I like your paws better...

[kungfuwitch]

Then you clearly have impeccable taste.

[spongetastic]

Indeed. [an embarrassed cough]

[kungfuwitch]

Come now, tell me another one.

[spongetastic]

Only one more. I'm-- [yawn] having trouble staying awake.

In a kingdom far away, there was a humble peasant. Every morning when the sun rose he would find a bird and send it out to the east. Every evening he waited but none of the birds returned to him. He did this for days and days but no birds ever came back to him.

One day he wrote the words, "If you love me, come to me" on a scroll and tied it to a bird's leg. As usual, he sent it out to the east. That evening he came out to wait for the bird's return as always.

This time he saw-- [and the story abruptly stops as the Dormouse drops off to sleep]

[kungfuwitch]

[She listens for a moment, waiting to see if he'd only just paused. When she heard the soft snoring she frowned. But... he hadn't finished the story.]

Dormouse?

[spongetastic]

[nope, he's asleep. Forever unfinished]

[kungfuwitch]

[She frowns. She must remember to ask the Dormouse to finish his tale when next she catches him awake.]