A Ferry Tale

Once upon a time, in a land very close by, so close actually, that you’re probably already in it, lived a group of people called rickshawwallas. They were an evil race, who initially began as a peace-loving, service-rendering community. They soon discovered that the service they rendered left others in their power, and this was when their reign of terror began. This power corrupted them and they began to disobey the commandments set in place by the Sacred Fare Meter, the keeper of the balance of Good and Evil.

They evolved into a sinister race of devious individuals, charging far more than required and refusing to render services unless the helpless complied to their demands and sometimes not even then. Many a time they pretended that if they went to certain places they would be attacked and killed by a vicious and horrific demon known as Traffic.

This was untrue.

Traffic would be there, yes.

But Traffic was not horrifying. Traffic was just highly annoying.

There was one, named Raj, who did not bow to the evil ways of the other rickshawwallas. He was righteous, he was courageous, he was pure of heart, and he followed the tenants of the Sacred Fare Meter. Sometimes, when in a good mood, he even charged half price.

Then he was just awesome.

The other rickshawwallas made fun of him and called him names. They abused him and called him a weakling who was not man enough to swindle his customers out of their money. But he stayed strong and did not bow down to their will. He stood firm in his convictions and remained righteous and pure of heart. He was also pure of… well… um… well… heart.

Though he was honorable he was quite poor, but all that was to change when he was visited by Kilometria, the Fairy Princess from the land of the Sacred Fare Meter. Though she was a beautiful woman, scantily clad, as fairy princesses are wont to be, she did not fear for, after all, he was pure of heart.

“Raj”, she said dramatically, “you are righteous.”

He did not reply.

He was not speechless.

He was still asleep.

She was new to dramatic speeches and had not realized she had to wake him up first.

“”Become a fairy,” they said. “It’s a glamorous life,” they said.” she muttered to herself as she shook him a little too violently out of aggression.

A few moments later he was awake.

“Raj”, she said dramatically, “you are righteous.” She said in a tone that suggested she was saying this for the fist time. “You have obeyed the tenants of the Sacred Fare Meter unwaveringly for many years. That is good. I am pleased. You shall have many riches. And a good wife.”

He woke up the next morning with many riches and a good wife.

He retired filthy rich and had many grandchildren who loved him.

He also had the biggest house and HD satellite television.

The moral of the story is, never charge more than the meter and you shall be rewarded.

This story is part of a developmental initiative and has been designed for the children of rickshawwallas. 

White and Fluffy

Tonight kids, I will tell you a story, a horrific story of evil scientists and the experiments they perform on little children. It is a story filled with fear and trembling, it is a story that all children must hear if they are to protect themselves from the evils of the world.

It is the story of Little Albert.

Many, many years ago there was a little boy. He was named Albert. So it was not unusual that they called him ‘little Albert’. It was unusual that they sometimes called him Francis. Why? I haven’t the foggiest.

His mother was very poor and she sent him, not even a year old, to a scientist to be experimented on in exchange for money. He was an evil scientist who made Albert afraid of things that he hadn’t even had the chance to discover that he might have loved.

He made Albert afraid of all fluffy white things. To make anyone afraid of anything is an evil thing to do. But to make someone afraid of all that is white and fluffy is downright dastardly.

How? How did he do this, you ask?

“Elementary,” says Doctor Watson, “It is quite simple. Its something even you can do at home with the neighborhood kids. You present the child with something white and fluffy, for example a white rat or a rabbit. Then you make a very loud sound when the child approaches the rabbit. I prefer using a hammer and a large metal rod. It makes for the perfect hare conditioner.”

Though we may wish this is a story of the retribution that Albert wrought upon Watson once he grew up and was able to do such things as drive, fight, and maybe even control his bowels, this is one providing no such satisfaction. This is rather the story of Albert and his life of fear.

Being afraid of all that is white and fluffy wrecked havoc on Little Albert’s life. For a month after the experiment he did not stop crying at bath times because his towel was white and his mother did not realize why he was crying. In fact as an older child, if his mother forgot about his fear of white towels and accidentally started drying him with one he would run away screaming. The neighbors were always on edge as there is nothing more unnerving as a child screaming gibberish and running naked through the compound.

He avoided all sorts of pasties with fluffy white frostings and ran away from his aunts who wore fluffy white house slippers. Though we must admit, he would have run away from his aunts anyway. His fear of cotton, though making it difficult to treat his wounds, had a far more alarming effect at Christmas time when the streets were filled with Santa’s and their fluffy white cotton beards.

Worse than Santa was snowfall.

He was never able to enter his friend James’ house. James house had white shag carpeting. At some point in time James wondered if Albert was a vampire.

One night he went home with a girl. She, on the pretence of slipping into something more comfortable, slipped into a pristine white bathrobe.

He ran away screaming.

She proceeded to develop body image issues.

Albert subsequently vowed to overcome his fear and went about throwing himself compulsively at white fluffy things. This led to the deaths of a few mice and rabbits, an embarrassing incident with a woman in a white fur coat and the ruining of many a wedding cake.

He began wearing bath slippers everywhere, and carpeted every inch of his house with white shag, including the walls. Often he would stroke the furry walls.

His family decided he was quite mental and sent him to a psychiatrist. Unfortunately he was unable to see the irony.

One day he was killed by a polar bear.

Therefore kids, we learn that no matter what your parents tell you, it is not necessarily a good thing to overcome your fears.

Custard Apples

Conversation between Annaika (5), Jude (13) and I (22) [lol, yeah sure]. Interjected with much laughter and hilarity.

Me:

Doesn’t this custard apple look like a dragon’s egg?

Annaika:
What? No silly! It’s a fruit!

Me:

No see. Inside…. all this gooey stuff….. that’s dragon snot.

Annaika:

Eeeew. Dragon snot!...eeeeew!

Jude:

But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be snot inside the egg?

Me:

Actually the custard apple isnt the egg. It’s the black seeds that are the eggs. The custard apple is just pretending.

Jude:

That doesn’t make any sense either. Why would it pretend to be an egg if it already has eggs inside it?

Me:

See…the dragon lays its eggs and then collects them and with the help of snot makes a custard apple. Dragon hunters usually search for their eggs so that they can destroy the dragons. When they find these custard apple pretend eggs they break them open, eat them and throw the seeds away, thinking that they have destroyed the egg and had a good meal in the process when actually they are helping the  dragons hatch. Dragons are very smart you see..

Annaika:

What? That’s silly. Dragons don’t exist and custard apples are fruit.

Me:           

Really? Have you ever seen a custard apple tree?

Jude:

Yes, actually, I have.

Me:

That was a dragon pretending.