Phoebe's trying to give Holden her Christmas money. Even in her elementary school mind, she knows her brother is in trouble, and she's trying to help him out. It's a gesture of love.
I've spent the last two evenings helping a poet friend edit the manuscript for her new book. It's work I love to do. For a little while, it makes me feel like a real writer, a real artist. At the end of the night, my poet friend tried to hand me some money.
I shook my head. "I wasn't expecting to be paid," I said. "It was a favor."
She smiled. "Take your wife out to dinner," she said.
I was humbled and flabbergasted by her gesture. A gesture of love from a dear friend.
How 'bout a mini fairy tale tonight?
Once upon a time, there lived a humble court jester named Orson. Orson wasn't a very good jester, so he was always broke.
One day, he found a skunk with a broken leg on the doorstep of his cottage. The skunk looked so pitiful, Orson decided to care for it. He bent over and picked the creature up.
As Orson carried it into his home, the skunk lifted its tail and blasted Orson with skunk stink. Orson dropped the animal and staggered backward.
"Why the hell did you do that?" Orson yelled.
The skunk shrugged. "I don't have any money," it said.
"So," Orson said, "I wasn't asking for anything!"
"That's good," the skunk said, "because I only have one scent to my name."
Moral of the story: Don't trust anyone who wears black and white.
And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.
|Thar she blows...|