This is Jenkins’ Typewriter. I stole it to do some handy work of my own. The keys are actually pretty loud. My typewriter is much quieter…or maybe it’s that my typewriter doesn’t come with three slumbering children…Oh, well, I’ll hope for the best.
La la la. That was just a test. Don’t worry you passed…or um…I passed…or umm…the test past. The test past the test? Ya.
Jenkins is out. He must have been a mole in another life. There are stacks & stacks of dark vapor surrounding me. Next time I’m gonna bring a bottle of sparkles with me to diffuse all the blackness.
I must no longer prolong the inevitable. My time is coming shortly to a close. Two hours isn’t long to create a masterpiece.
Here it goes…
Once upon a time there were three children. As all children do-especially in threes-one day these three children grew up.
“Mother,” the first child began, “I’m going off to the sea to seek my fortune as a fisherman. Don’t wait up for me.”
So the oldest child strode into the sunrise to seek his fortune. A few minutes later he was back, striding the other way, as the sun almost blinded him with its brightness. The west coast, he was sure had plenty of fish, too.
Sooner or later the second child got a little antsy. One day he said, “Mother, I’m going to the village to seek my fortune as a blacksmith. Don’t wait up for me.”
Again, the mother watched as her second son-learning from the first son-strode into what would be-later that day-the sunset to seek his fortune.
Soon enough, as she expected, the third son approached her with his nap-sack-on-a-stick, proclaiming his wishes.
“Mother, I’m going to the sky to make my fortune as an airplane man. Don’t wait up for me.”
And thus the mother waved as her third son-learning from the first two-took Natalie Cole’s advice & motored west down Route 66.
So with all her children gone to make their fortune, the mother settled cozy into her home, & didn’t have to use her vaccume for a whole month. Often receiving postcards & letter from her fortune-seeking-sons, she began to wallpaper her walls with their amazing tales of fishy fish, burnt fingers, & motion sickness.
One day, unexpectedly, the first son came back to his mother’s door step.
“Mother,” He began lamenting, “I’m tired of all the fishy fish & pruney hands. I no longer want to be a fisherman. That’s not where the fortunes lie for me.”
Alarmed at her sons sudden crisis, the mother gave her son some milk & cookies, & some wise advice on seeking other kinds of fortune in fishermanning besides monetary fortune. Comforted, the first son went back to his fishing boat & the mother took out her vaccume.
A little time later, the second son stood upon his mother’s doorstep.
“Mother,” the second son began, “I’m tired of all the burnt fingers & fire-reddened complexion. I no longer want to be a blacksmith. That’s not the way to get all the girls.”
Alarmed, & somewhat quietly amused, the mother gave her second son some chocolate cake & some wise advice on courting a quality girl instead of a whole string of them. Comforted, the second son set out to his blacksmithing shop again-toting some aloe vera while the mother, once again, took out her vaccume.
It wasn’t long before the third son, as she expected, came ’round to her doorstep.
“Mother,” he rambled excitedly, “I absolutely LOVE being an airplane man! It’s such a rush to feel the wind in your hair & the cool metal of the plane beneath your fingertips!”
Now this is what the mother had not expected.
“What about your motion sickness? Surely all that flying around gives you the wuzzies. ” the mother inquired with a sort of pleading in her eyes. After all, she had just made a fresh batch of ice cream-his favorite.
“Oh, no, no,” the third son said, “I don’t fly the planes, I paint murals on them. I was getting motion sickness from my motor vehicle, but I took some dramamine.”
“Well,” said the mother, “how about that? My son’s a airplane painter. To what to I owe such an honored visit, my boy?”
And do you know what he said???
“I just miss you mom.” Then he hugged her very big. They sat through the afternoon catching up & eating his favorite homemade ice cream. At the end of the day the son was motoring back to his pallette, comforted & filled-& the mother pulled out her vaccume with a big smile on her face.
Soon after that all the son’s were visiting regularly, telling her their amazing stories about catching a three-headed fish, breaking into the skin-care-for blacksmith business (with a quality girl), & painting the mural of ‘Madonna Through the Ages’ on the latest plane. AND, they all pitched in & bought their mom a new vaccume.
[Author’s Note: By the way that wonderful piece of work only took ONE hour!]