von Jacques Pinard Brown (Copyright)

Round lived in a round world, with his Round family, went to his round school and played around with his friends.

At night in his round house, he went to his round room and went to sleep, dreaming round dreams. Tonight was no different, his round mother tucked him in his round bed, and he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

But somewhere deep in the round night, something disturbed the dreams of little Round. He awoke with a start, finding himself in a square bed, in a square room, with a square door, and yes, even a little square window.

“Round!” a mighty square voice roared from somewhere within the square house.
“Little Round! Wake up!” the voice boomed again, and just then a large square man appeared in the square doorframe, flinging open the square door.

“Wake up little Round, its time to get off to square school!” the large square man commanded in his mighty square voice. Little Round jumped from the square bed and got dressed in some square clothes the man gave him. Then the square man pushed him outside the house, and then he beheld the squarest world one could ever imagine.

Everything was square, the houses were square, the chimneys were square, the streets were long and square, and yes, all the people passing by, were most definitely, square. Very, very square.

A moment later a large yellow, square school bus pulled along the square curb where he was standing, the square doors opened, and he got in. The square bus driver greeted him squarely, and then he noticed the bus was packed with little square children.

At school, before the bell rang, all the kids played square games, and he couldn’t join in, because he didn’t know how to play square games, on a square playground. When school started all the square kids rushed inside the large square school building and went to sit at their square desks. Little Round became stuck inside the square doorframe, because he was round, but quickly wiggled himself loose.

He took a seat at the back of the square class, and then the square teacher started giving his square lessons. These lessons were an advanced form of mathematics, and thus, very, very square. The square children repeated their square lessons over, and over with much enthusiasm, and Rounds little round head started to ache.

During lunch all the children ate their square sandwiches, and then went back to the square school for more lessons at being square. But little Round slipped off unnoticed, he did not know where he was going, but he knew one thing for sure, he was not going back to square school.
He passed some square shops, a square doctor and a square butcher. Then he walked passed a square old age home, where some square old ladies were sun tanning on the lawns in purple and yellow bikinis. Unfortunately, they were all retired teachers of square school and soon the yells went up of;

“There’s a little round, playing hooky from square school, get him!”
“Yes, how will he ever hope to become a proper square, if his not in square school, get him!”
“Get him! Get him! Get him! Get that little round, get him!” they all shouted at once, and started to chase him.

They would never have caught him, him being round, and they square and old. But as he was running away he looked over his shoulder, and didn’t notice a large square policeman in his way. The policeman stuck out his square foot tripping little Round, which caused him to fall. Being round, he rolled a bit before coming to a stop.

Then they were all on top of him beating him, the little square old ladies with their square handbags, and the policeman with his stick, shouting; “You have no respect for a square world, and a good old fashioned square education, take that!” And still they beat him mercilessly.

A square ambulance pulled up and two square paramedics threw him in the back, and rushed him of to a large white square hospital. They put him in a square bed with square white sheets, and put him on a drip, because he was badly beaten. A square doctor came in with a square clipboard on which he was writing as he was mumbling to himself while glancing at little Round occasionally. “Mmm, definitely a mental problem by the looks of it; acute roundness, mmm, a serious case too, might take years to cure, mmm, acute roundness, yes…” and he left closing the square door behind him. This was all too much for little Round, so he passed out.

The next thing he knew he was back in his old round bed, in his old round room, and his dear round mother was soothing him saying, “There, there little Round it was all just a bad dream, a bad square dream.”

And the world was perfectly round once more.

von Jacques Pinard Brown (Copyright)

In the garden there were many birds. Some people called the garden paradise. They flew through the blue sky, between the tall green trees, and sometimes sat in their branches.

They mostly sang and ate the seeds from the flowers. They each sang his own tune, but this being paradise, a lot of the birds sang classical tunes, like the nightingale and the turtledove.

But some of the more progressive birds liked to sing more lively tunes like rock, as sung by the turkeys; “Gobbelty gobbelty.” And heavy metal squawked by the crows. Or rap, as sung by the woodpecker. ‘Rap! Rap! Rap!” the woodpecker would rap away all day, much to the annoyance of the other birds, especially the classically minded ones.

But then there was one bird in the garden with a golden voice, which sang the most beautiful songs of all the birds. When this bird started to sing all the other birds would stop their own singing, and listen. And in the quiet garden all that was to be heard was the song of the bird that sang the blues.

The bird that sang the blues, sang it so beautifully, that often one heard no other sound in the garden, except for her golden voice singing the blues. She sang such beautiful sad songs of love and longing that it brought back all the bitter sweet memories of the older birds, while it just filled the young ones with joy and pleasure.

But the parrot became jealous and started to imitate the bird that sang the blues, (because he was an unoriginal bird by nature, and had often copied other birds before). And although some said his version of the blues was not too bad, there were others who distinctly disliked it. Most of all the master of the blues herself.

So she spread her wings as the sun was setting, and flew out of the garden, and her golden voice flew with her. The following day the birds started to long for her lovely golden voice, and were grumbling discontentedly among themselves. So the parrot tried to cheer them up by doing his version of the blues again.

This just upset all the other birds because, they realized for the first time how beautiful the voice of the bird that sang the blues really was, and how truly awful the parrots version was. They shut him up quickly, and then each one began to sing his own tune again.

But deep inside, each one was secretly longing, for the return of the bird that sang the blues.

von Jacques Pinard Brown (Copyright)

There once was a fat and jolly pig, who loved wallowing in the mud all day long.

From sunrise to sunset he would lie in the mud pool and wallow in the mire, to his great delight. He only left the pool occasionally to go and eat some vegetables that were growing nearby. Or sometimes he ate the fruit off the lower branches of the fruit trees. Then he immediately went back to the mud pool to wallow in the mire.

Among the fruit trees was a beautiful golden apple tree, that is, a tree that bore lovely golden apples. But the pig never ate the golden apples because when he was small his mother told him they made a too heavy a meal for a pig.

So he spent his days lying in the mud, and from time to time eating fruit and vegetables. And life was good.

Yet there came a day that there was no more vegetables nearby to eat, and the pig became very hungry. He looked over at the golden apple tree, and yes, it was laden with rich, round golden apples. He thought of his mother’s advice for a while, but temptation soon got the better of him, so he strolled over to the golden apple tree.

He ate a few golden apples off the lower branches, and they were truly delicious, so he ate few more. However, he soon realized that his mother had been right about them being a heavy meal, as his tummy sagged to the ground from the weight.

He strolled over to the mud pool to cool off and ease the pressure on his tummy. He went in deep and relaxed, rolling over from time to time. When it was time to get out, he maneuvered himself through the mud towards the bank, and started to climb out.

But because of the weight of the golden apples the pig could not lift his body out of the mud and became stuck. He tried and tried, but his every effort was in vain. And as he became tired he slipped back deeper into the mud, and began to sink away.

And in the end, the weight of the golden apples in is stomach, pulled the pig below and drowned him

The End.

Copyright – 2005 – JP Brown.

von Jacques Pinard Brown (Copyright)

There once was a happy man who always smiled. He had a dog named Rolly, and all day he and Rolly would play on the grass, and this made the man even more happy. So he smiled some more.

The children came past and saw the smiling man and his dog playing on the green, green grass, so they decided to join them. Soon, the man, his dog and the children were playing happily on the grass. The man smiled an even broader smile, and was even more happy.

And so they played; the man, the dog and the children, among the flowers and the trees. Among the birds and the butterflies. And the years rolled on, the one flowing into the next. And the dog grew old, very old, until one day he lay down quietly and breathed his last breath. The man grew very sad, and smiled less and less, until one day when he stopped smiling alltogether.

The children didn’t like sitting with the man who never smiled, next to the grave of his dog, on the green grass. Because when he was not smiling and sad, it made them sad as well, and they were too young to be sad for so long. So they moved on and looked for other people to meet and games to play.

They went to the market and discovered many new games to play among the shoppers, the shopkeepers, and the stalls. Sometimes they were naughty and angry shopkeepers would chase them off. But the market was very big, and they would just go and play in another part of it.

One of them, a little boy, saw a man at a stall, selling puppies. He asked the man; “Pardon me sir, how much are your puppies.” The man said they cost seven silver coins each. The boy spoke to the other children (they were seven children in all) and they each contributed one coin towards the purchase of a puppy. They used their lunch money in order to do this. The boy paid the man and picked a puppy.

The puppy he picked was the runt of the litter, but was also the liveliest and cutest of them all. The children wrapped the puppy in a little red towel and ran off to where they always played with the man on the green grass.

The man was wondering about the grass with a serious look on his face and was not smiling at all, when they found him. They stood some distance away and greeted him. He acknowledged their presence absentmindedly. So the little boy came forward with the red bundle in which the puppy was concealed. Then he gave it to he man saying; “This present is from us to you.”

The man took the bundle in his arms and opened it. As he did this the puppy barked in his face. The man’s lips cracked upward, and yes, he smiled. So the puppy barked again, twice more. The man laughed, and soon he was a happy, smiling man again.

And the man who smiled played with his puppy and the children, on the green, green grass, for a very long time. Among the flowers and the trees , among the birds and the butterflies.