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Once Upon a Time there lived a young man named Gibble. Gibble loved to play, and he loved to run and jump and dance. And he loved to sing and yodel and play the violin and the piano and the bongos and the guitar. Gibble loved animals. He loved piglets and lemmings and bats and little lion cubs and big lion cubs who were slightly overweight and cuddly kitties and sometimes even dead kitties because they reminded him of the cuter, living ones. Gibble liked to ride his bike to and from school and to and from the soda stand where he worked and to and from his mother's house and to and from his father's house and to and from his step-mother's house and to and from his step-mother's house and to and from his common law mother's house and to and from his mother's boyfriend's house. Riding the bike was fun. One day, he was riding his bike and he was singing an old Beatles song and then he sang an old Rolling Stones song and then he sang a newer Pearl Jam song (but he didn't really understand it since he didn't wear flannel) and then he sang a really old choir hymn. He liked the songs he learned in church the best because they brought him closer to God. And closer to his friend Rummell who was dead. So Gibble was riding his red, white and purple bike with the pretty blue wheels and the pink tassels and the big bright blue balloons which looked not unlike blue balls, bobbing in the sun. In fact, the blue balloons were so large and obstructing that they blocked Gibble's vision and he didn't see the big truck coming which smacked him upside the head and he fell down dead. The morale of the story is: Big balloons may be nice to look at, but they can kill you. |
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