Once upon a time, a mitten and its hand parted ways. Who knows if the mitten was looking for adventure, or if it just slipped off one cold, wintery day? Alone, it sat on the side of the slushy street, wondering what would happen next. It waited.
The days passed—light and dark, snow and cold. One day, who knows how many days later, it was picked up by someone who liked its friendly, bright stripes. It was taken home, given a warm bath, and set out to dry. It waited.
The mitten was then passed to another someone as a gift. And the second someone lifted the mitten up to their face, smiled, and asked, “Who are you?” and then gently tucked it in their pocket. Nestled there in the dark, the mitten felt something tingling inside itself. “Who am I?” the mitten thought. “No one has asked me that before. I wonder… yes, I wonder.”
The mitten waited for a bit, just to be sure, but then it nudged the someone from inside the pocket to get their attention. “Psst,” it whispered up to the voice who had asked the important question. “Yes?” it inquired. The mitten said, “It’s me, here in your pocket. I am a someone, too. And I think I am not just a mitten. I think I am also a snail!” “Really?” said the someone. “That’s wonderful. Yes, I can see that about you. Is there anything you need? Are you hungry after your travels? Perhaps you would like a bit of stuffing.”
“Yes, please!” said the mittensnail. “Also,” he said, nibbling the tasty white fluff, “I believe my name is Bert.”
And then the adventure really began.
Once upon a time, a sock and its foot parted ways. Who knows if the sock was looking for adventure, or if it just slipped off one warm, spring day? Alone, it sat on the side of the grassy path, wondering what would happen next. It waited.
The days passed—light and dark, rain and wind. One day, who knows how many days later, it was picked up by someone who liked its friendly, bright stripes. It was hung on a peg in the park. “Wow,” thought the sock. “The world is really big.” It watched. It waited.
One day, a second someone stopped and lifted the little sock from its peg. “Are you alone?” the someone asked. “Yes,” said the sock, “but it is very interesting up here.” The someone looked at the sock very curiously, and then asked a very curious thing. “Are you really just a sock?” the someone asked. The sock said, “You know, I have been wondering that myself. I think perhaps I am not just a sock. I believe I am a beetle.”
The someone smiled and said, “Oh, yes, I can see that in you. If you like, you could come home with me. I think I have a friend for you, if you would like one.” “Oh yes,” he said. And so the sockbeetle was carried home, given a gentle bath, and set out to dry. It nibbled some stuffing, which was white and fluffy and quite delicious. And then the someone carried him over to a shelf where another striped creature was waiting for him.
“I’m Bert,” said the mittensnail.
“I’m Ed,” said the sockbeetle.
“I like your stripes,” they both said at the same time.
And then the adventure really began.
The Serious Mirth Society 