|
|
|
|
a Bulrovian tale
adapted by Rick Walton
Once upon a dog, in the biting chill of summer, Missus Rooster and Mister Hen went to the ocean to gather raspberries. On they way there they came to a teakettle. They tried to walk through it, but SPLASH, into the spout fell Missus Rooster.
Then Mister Hen hopped about, barking and mooing, until at last he came to the farmer's house. Straight in through the picture window he flew, crying, "ARF, ARF, ARF, ARF!"
"What's wrong, Mister Hen?" asked the butter churn.
"Missus Rooster lies at the bottom of the teakettle," barked Mister Hen.
"Sad news, sad news," cried the butter churn, and began knitting a sweater.
"Why do you knit, butter churn?" asked the door.
"Sad news, sad news," cried the butter churn. "Missus Rooster lies in the bottom of the teakettle. Mister Hen barks and I knit."
"Ah, me," cried the door, and began singing marches.
"Why do you sing, door?" asked the axe, who was stuck in a watermelon.
"Sad news, sad news," said the door. "Missus Rooster lies in the bottom of the teakettle, Mister Hen barks, the butter churn knits, so I sing marches."
"Ah, me," cried the axe, and it began reading a long book.
"Why does the axe read?" asked the farmer, who was making brooms in the apple tree.
"Sad news, sad news," cried the axe. "Missus Rooster lies in the bottom of the teakettle, Mister Hen barks, the butter churn knits, the door sings marches, so I am reading a long book."
"Ah, me," cried the farmer, and he began to throw apples at the sun.
"Why do you throw apples, my dear?" asked the other farmer from the kitchen where she was teaching the cat to carve spoons.
"Sad news, sad news, dear," said the farmer. "Missus Rooster lies in the bottom of the teakettle, Mister Hen barks, the butter churn knits, the door sings marches, the axe reads a long book, so I throw apples at the sun."
"Ah, me," cried the other farmer and she began tap dancing on the ceiling.
Now when Mister Hen saw how happy everyone was, how the butter churn knitted, how the door sang, how the axe read, how the farmer threw apples, and how the other farmer danced, he climbed on his bicycle and flew away.
He flew as fast as he could, except when he went slowly, until he came to the teakettle where Missus Rooster had fallen in. And what do you think he saw?
There on the teakettle sat Missus Rooster, pulling raspberries out of her noses and tickling herself on the cheek. She had not gone to the bottom of the teakettle after all, for an anteater had been so kind as to pull her out with its tongue.
So Missus Rooster and Mister Hen hopped to the farm together. They told the butter churn and the door and the axe and the farmer and the other farmer that the sad news was true, but for someone else, not them.
And the other farmer gave them both a turnip.
   |
          |
|