CfPUiSL: The Fishbox

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Welcome to Jandley’s Fork. It’s a rural town too small and insignificant to have any need for a real tour guide, so you’ll have to do with me. You can call me Sturjmond if you like. Otherwise, don’t.

While things of interest to visitors rarely happen here in the Fork, things do happen. Recently, things have been happening because of (or just nearby) a certain glass box. This box is completely full of water and contains a fish, which might be why folks call it the Fishbox.

It has no openings, so many have wondered just how the fish got in there and how it can live with no food or water replacement. It just floats there, happy as a fish and no one knows how or why. I, an amateur tour guide, do not think it is my place to speculate on the matter. I’ll leave that to the oceanographers and since Jandley’s Fork is 7,000 kilojimbles inland, there aren’t any.  So that, along with the Fishbox’s improbably light weight, will remain a mystery.

Part 4 of Lack and the Potato Mine

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Lack could not sleep at all that night.  He loved his parents and had thought they loved him too.

He knew that they loved him less than his long lost brother Wilhelm, but it never mattered much because he had been missing since before Lack was born.

Never had he imagined that they might see him as an emergency food supply.  It was no wonder that they had allowed him to get so porkulent, he thought to himself.

He lay awake and prayed to the pointy stick for help.

Hours passed and so did Lack’s last fragments of hope.  He had almost come to accept his fate when he heard a terrific “B’shoom!” from outside.  He ran to the window and beheld the sound’s origin.  It was a round hole in the earth with smooth sides that appeared to descend forever.

If you saw it, you might be reminded of a manhole with no cover, but such things were not known to Lack.  He was reminded simply of the impossibility of such a hole digging itself all at once in his yard.  He remembered then that it was in the exact spot that he’d left the pointy stick the night before.

He wanted an escape and here it was!

The only challenge would be to get outside without waking Mother or Father.

The Saddest Song (sung mournfully with accordion)

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I have bag
that is full of ink
it’s the inkyest bag I know
all that it touches is quickly dyed pink
and to carry it makes me so slow
Why is life like this?
I blame the trees
they gave me this bag and i hate them
i hate them
i hate them
I hate them for giving me this bag
I have a car
that is made of tofu
it’s the tofueyest car around
there isn’t much that it can drive through
it barely can stay on the ground
Why is life like this?
I blame the trees
they gave me this car and i hate them
i hate them
i hate them
I hate them for giving me this car
———-
-harmonica solo-
———-
I have a friend
Who is buried in dust
he’s the dustiest friend you will meet
If he doesn’t climb out before he rusts
He may forget he has feet
Why is life like this?
I blame the trees
they gave me this friend and I hate them
i hate them
i hate them
I hate them for giving me this friend.

Note:  I don’t hate trees.  Trees are the best at what they do.  I just like arbitrary assignments of blame.