tell you to, off with your head.”
The old man
agreed.
And then, he began his
story.
“ Just last
year, in a country over yonder, the people were preparing for a
great harvest.”
“ This is
new,” said the king, “Now go on.”
“ But the
country had a little problem. After every harvest, a huge swarm of
locusts would fly into the fields, covering the sky, and eating all
the grain. The farmers all gathered together, and devised a plan to
save their crop.”
“ And…”
“ They divided
into two groups. One was doing the harvest, and the other group
weaved together layer upon layer of fibre to make a giant drum with
no holes in them, so that no locust could go in.”
“ And
then?”
“ After
several weeks of hard work, the drum was completed. It was two
miles in circumference, and over a mile in height. Grain was poured
upon it, until it filled to the brim. Then the farmers tied the
drum up real good, and went to sleep.”
“ What
happened next?”
“ No sooner
than the farmers had gone to sleep did the locusts appear. They
swarmed over the sky, and covered every inch of the drum. But they
could not go in, because the drum was weaved so neatly.”
“ And
then?”
“ But the
locusts were not so keen on giving up. They looked all over the
surface, hoping for the tiniest hole, so that they could get the
grains out. The search went on for hours, and finally, one of the
locusts found the tiniest of holes where the fibres were
crisscrossed. But the hole was so small, only one locust could go
in at a time. So the first locust got in.”
“ And
then?”
“ He picked up
the grain, squirmed out of the hole, and flew away.”
“ And
then?”
“ The next
locust got in, took a grain, and flew away.”
“ And
then?”
“ The next
one.”
“ And
then?”
“ Another
one.”
“ And
then?”
“ Another
one.”
And this went on and on.
The king could not ask the man to stop, or ask him to skip to the
end of the story.”
This went on for days,
and weeks, and just when everyone thought they would go mad, the
king said,
“ Fine, I
yield. Take whatever you want. I can’t listen to this stupid story
anymore.”
Then the man said, “Very
well. Release all the storytellers from your dungeons. The world is
churning out good stories, and people are needed to capture
them.”
Once the last man was
released, the storyteller said his goodbye, and told the king,
“Farewell, king, but it’s a pity you did not listen till the end of
the story. It has such a nice ending.”
“ Just get out
of my sight,” yelled the king.
The man swirled his robe,
and disappeared. He was never seen in the kingdom again.
Epilogue
In the grassy plains in the
morning shine
A cow once chewed on an eggplant
vine
It pulled and pulled till the
eggplant bent
And thus my story comes to an
end.
The old man
agreed.
And then, he began his
story.
“ Just last
year, in a country over yonder, the people were preparing for a
great harvest.”
“ This is
new,” said the king, “Now go on.”
“ But the
country had a little problem. After every harvest, a huge swarm of
locusts would fly into the fields, covering the sky, and eating all
the grain. The farmers all gathered together, and devised a plan to
save their crop.”
“ And…”
“ They divided
into two groups. One was doing the harvest, and the other group
weaved together layer upon layer of fibre to make a giant drum with
no holes in them, so that no locust could go in.”
“ And
then?”
“ After
several weeks of hard work, the drum was completed. It was two
miles in circumference, and over a mile in height. Grain was poured
upon it, until it filled to the brim. Then the farmers tied the
drum up real good, and went to sleep.”
“ What
happened next?”
“ No sooner
than the farmers had gone to sleep did the locusts appear. They
swarmed over the sky, and covered every inch of the drum. But they
could not go in, because the drum was weaved so neatly.”
“ And
then?”
“ But the
locusts were not so keen on giving up. They looked all over the
surface, hoping for the tiniest hole, so that they could get the
grains out. The search went on for hours, and finally, one of the
locusts found the tiniest of holes where the fibres were
crisscrossed. But the hole was so small, only one locust could go
in at a time. So the first locust got in.”
“ And
then?”
“ He picked up
the grain, squirmed out of the hole, and flew away.”
“ And
then?”
“ The next
locust got in, took a grain, and flew away.”
“ And
then?”
“ The next
one.”
“ And
then?”
“ Another
one.”
“ And
then?”
“ Another
one.”
And this went on and on.
The king could not ask the man to stop, or ask him to skip to the
end of the story.”
This went on for days,
and weeks, and just when everyone thought they would go mad, the
king said,
“ Fine, I
yield. Take whatever you want. I can’t listen to this stupid story
anymore.”
Then the man said, “Very
well. Release all the storytellers from your dungeons. The world is
churning out good stories, and people are needed to capture
them.”
Once the last man was
released, the storyteller said his goodbye, and told the king,
“Farewell, king, but it’s a pity you did not listen till the end of
the story. It has such a nice ending.”
“ Just get out
of my sight,” yelled the king.
The man swirled his robe,
and disappeared. He was never seen in the kingdom again.
Epilogue
In the grassy plains in the
morning shine
A cow once chewed on an eggplant
vine
It pulled and pulled till the
eggplant bent
And thus my story comes to an
end.
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