Many stories are being told about climbing a mountain; this one's about faith. |
I was grinding on some thoughts, but couldn't think of what to munch on to match my thoughts in the process. I looked around and there I found in the small store that my daughter had set up inside our Internet Cafe, lollypops in a glass jar. I hurriedly took the jar, opened up, and took one neatly wrapped in orange plastic. I smelled it, it was good. Now, I can soar my thoughts to real heights, write them down, to make a fine story. I really just needed this lollypop. I tried to tear off the plastic wrapper of my lollypop, I failed. It was tightly wrapped, a powerful tape was glued to the wrapper that I couldn't open it. My tongue was waiting to lick it. So I put it in my mouth to bite the plastic wrapper, but my front teeth couldn't even rip it. "My God, this lollypop can spoil my story," I mumbled some invectives upon this "diabite". All right, this is what you want, I'll tear you off with my long fingernail, I almost shouted at the lollypop. I struck my left-thumb fingernail on the hard wrapper hoping to finally open it and devour it. Finally - no, I wasn't able to open it - my fingernail gave off. It broke and blood burst from the skin beneath my left-thumb fingernail. "Wha!" I uttered a painful shout. The lollypop was now gored with blood. I couldn't anymore lick it, and my thoughts were gone. Pain covered my ideas. I couldn't write, and I was uttering words like I was facing an enemy. "Murderous lollypop," I muttered. I have to admonish my daughter when she comes - get rid of this lollypops or the kids may break their fingernails. I went back to my computer to write a few words. Now I have my story - the case of the murderous lollypop. |