Story Time Yet Again

Another story begun in December of 1993. The 7th to be exact. It’s called…

The Story of Five More or Less Normal Lookin’ People

This is the story of five more or less normal lookin’ peop­le. As it so happens one of these people was just a tad taller than the othe­rs, enough of a tad so much so that the rest of the people could­n’t look ’em straight in the eye and they couldn’t shake his hand rightly so.

Now, there also happened to be, amongst these five otherwise normal lookin’ people, a little man, somewhat smaller than all the others, very much smaller than the tallest man, but we need­n’t mention that since you’ve probably figured all that out by the fact that since you always keep your calculators handy for just such an occasion, and this man was just a tad bit smal­ler than the rest of the normal lookin’ people just enough so that they could­n’t quite look ’em straight in the eye and they really could­n’t shake his hand rightly so.

Well, this was all disturbing to the remaining fairly normal individuals and they scratched their heads, warmed up their newly overhauled miniature calculators with new batteries in ’em and everything, jogged around a bit and were attempting in their own way and in their own solutionary method to arrive at a suitable solution to this remarkable dilemma which they indeed began to remark upon.

“Well, I can’t rightly say,” said the one, “but I think we might come to an agreement if we went ahead and gave the little guy some stilts. That way he could be just as tall as us, he could look us straight in the eye and we could shake his hand rightly so.”

“Seems like a reasonable idea,” the others said. So the smartest one of the group, the one with the solar calculator that didn’t ever need any new batteries, got together with the one who was pretty good at whittling wood and they put together some decent stilts for the shorter man and everyone was reasonably happy.

“The problem I still see,” said one of the other mostly normal lookin’ individuals, clearing his throat, “is, ahem, excuse me, is that we still have the problem of, uh, well,” he pointed to the taller man. “You know.”

The others nodded their heads.

After enough time went by for the one who was pretty good at whittling wood had whittled a little baby rhinoceros or some crazy lookin’ animal of some kind unknown or, well, it looked more like a big ol’ horny toad or maybe a ballerina with her foot up and no arms. Something. Anyway, enough time went by so the gears in their noggins ground out, in their own way, a method for this startling dilemma to be solved once and for all and someone spoke up.

“I know just the solution,” said one of quite normal lookin’ individuals, smiling and picking his teeth with the edge of a nice shiny and sharp pocket knife. “Let’s cut his legs off just above the shin. That way he could be just as tall as us, he could look us straight in the eye and we could shake his hand rightly so.” He smiled some more.

Everyone nodded, thinking that it’d be just the thing to do.

“I’ll go get the ax,” said another practically normal look­in’ individual and was about to go when–

“Excuse me for just a second,” said the tallest man hearing all this. “I don’t mean to pry into anyone else’s business, but do you think that chopping my legs off at just below the shin will be all that wise an idea? I mean, all that blood and all.”

So, to make a short story a tad bit shorter (with no one gettin’ hurt in the process) that was the end of that idea. And the shorter man decided after awhile that he didn’t after all like the stilts. And even sometimes the taller man would let him ride awhile on his shoulders until he got tired of it (and even some of relatively normal lookin’ people got their turn) and so everyone lived relatively happily ever after and no one actually, really had that much trouble lookin’ each other in the eye or shaking each other’s hand rightly so after all.

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