Thursday, March 27, 2008

The Lion and the Mouse

My dad called me to remind me that I had yet to chronicle this incident…

Usually, it’s one of us who have to tell stories to Stwabbit. When my parents are around, my dad is the chosen one. One afternoon, though, Stwabbit decided it was her turn to entertain him. Here’s how the story went…

Once upon a time, deep in a forest, there lived a proud and mighty lion. All the other animal cowered when he roared. He was the king of all he surveyed. And, he lived life, king size.

One afternoon, having spent a hectic morning roaring and frightening the other creatures, and having had a satisfying meal on one of them, he settled down under a shady tree for his siesta. The lion snored, and that was almost as frightful as his roar.

A mouse, living nearby, was unable to partake of his afternoon nap because of the lion’s snoring. He decided to make the most of the situation and have some fun. He stepped out of his humble abode and crept up to the lion. The lion snored on. The mouse tugged at the lion’s tail. The lion snored on. The mouse climbed onto the lion’s back. The lion snored on. The mouse ran up and down the lion’s back. The lion couldn’t care less. The mouse decided to slide down the lion’s nose… whee… once, twice… The lion gave a mighty roar and caught the mouse deftly in his paw.

“What is the meaning of this outrage?” growled the lion.

“Uh… just admiring you, your Majesty,” squeaked the mouse.

“You tiny little creature… do you know that I could devour you in one gulp if I so desire?” said the lion.

“You probably could, but this is no time for a snack!” came the cheeky reply. The lion was taken aback.

The mouse continued, “Let’s cut a deal. You let me go, and I’ll give you an IOU. If you ever need my help, you can encash it!”

The lion was amused. “What use can you ever be to me?” he asked.

“Don’t bet on it, buddy boy. Here, note down my cell phone number, and if you’re ever in trouble, just give me a missed call,” said the mouse, matter-of-factly.

The lion extracted his cell phone from his arm-pit (lions don’t wear clothes, so they don’t have pockets, you know!) and noted down the number, just to humour the mouse.

“Ciao!” said the mouse, as he scampered away.

Days passed, and life in the forest continued as it had for ages. The lion was in his kingdom, God was in his Heaven and all was fine with the world. The lion soon forgot about his encounter with the mouse.

One fine day, as he strutted about complacently, the lion walked straight into a hunter’s trap. Finding himself trapped, he growled and roared. But, the Moving Finger had written, and having writ, moved own. The mighty lion had been captured. His end was near…

The lion , exhausted by all the roaring and growling, lay down, resigned to his fate. Tears streamed down his face as he recalled the glorious years he had spent, ruling the forest. Hours went by, and the lion lay tired and hungry, entangled in the net.

It was nearing dusk, when a thought struck the lion. He remembered the IOU of the mouse, and wondered if that could be encashed before his imminent death. After all, you don’t waste IOUs, do you?

So, the lion reaches out for his cell phone, and gives the mouse a missed call. And one more…

Suddenly, as though by magic, the mouse appeared before the lion!

“In a spot, pal?” asked the mouse.

“Uh… kind of. Hey, do you think you can get me out of this mess? You owe me one, you know,” the lion reminded him.

“Sure thing. What are friends for?”

The lion squirmed at the thought, for noone really wants a mouse for a friend, but he decided to let it pass for the moment.

The mouse made a few calls, and before long there stood an army of mice before the lion. In a flash, the mice had gnawed away the net. The lion was free!

Well, to cut a long story short, the lion and the mouse became inseparable pals from that day on.

Moral: Always carry your cell phone; and remember, help is always a missed call away!

Stwabbit’s version, my eloquence. We make a great team!

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Steal from me… please!

Last evening, the missus, my daughter, and yours truly were traveling home, doing our balancing act on my bike. Not one to stay silent for long, Stwabbit (as we shall call her henceforth) entered the inquisitive mode.

“Papa, why are thieves bad?”, she asked.

“Well, it’s because they steal from others. They don’t work to earn, but instead take away from others”, I replied.

“How do they steal?”, was the next question.

“When people go to work and their houses are empty, they break locks and enter houses”, was my explanation.

The next thing I know, she’s bawling.

“What’s wrong?”, I inquire.

She bawls harder. I’m perplexed.

Further probing on my part reveals the following, between sobs:

“Why don’t they ever come to our house? Don’t they consider my toys worth stealing?”

Monday Morning Blues!

Early one Monday morning, on our way to school, I noticed my daughter was not as chirpy as she usually is. She had a glum expression on her face.

“Why are you so unhappy?”, I asked.

“I don’t like going to school!”, she replied.

“Why? You have so much fun in school. You get to meet your friends and play with them”, I reasoned.

“”My teachers torture me!” she exclaimed.

This worried me. Was she, at the age of six, being subject to harsh punishment meted out by her teachers? Was her school, known for it’s orthodox views, subjecting her to corporal punishment?

“What do they do to you? Do they hurt you?”, I asked anxiously.

“They don’t let me play all day! They expect me to learn new words and write them! They don’t even let me fall asleep in class!”, she burst out.

Maybe I should bring this up at the next parent-teacher meeting…