Writers Untie!

Cont'd 4

A blindingly shiny tenor saxophone, which just so happened to be directed as to clip the one depressing wing that Jeremiah had. Left with only 76%--not 75%, not 77%, most certainly 76%--of a wing, he was in an even more pathetic state.

Used to such unhappiness befalling him, all Jeremiah did was sigh, pick up the broken piece of wing, and pick up his poor, pancake-esque Mr. Toad. Jeremiah gave a good, stiff shake to the toady flapjack, and Mr. Toad was right as rain.

"Oh, no, Jeremiah! Your only wing! I'm awfully sorry. Perhaps if I wasn't lying flat in the road, I could have done something to prevent it. Dreadfully sorry . . . "

"What happened to 'One does not need to fly in order to be a fairy'?" moaned Jeremiah. "Two minutes ago, you were cheering me on in my flightlessness; nothing changed, I just have even less of a shot a flight than before."

"Yes, but before there was at least hope of a remedy," sighed the toad. "You don't have to fly, but it does help in the convincing of people that you actually are a fairy."

"What do you mean, there was a remedy?" queried a cresfallen Jeremiah. "And why isn't there still one?"

"Well, you see," began Mr. Toad . . .

posted by Anna Clare @ 8:18 PM