THE STORY OF A STORY
Once upon a time there was a story that wanted someone to tell it. Being told was the story’s reason for existing. If no one would tell it, then what was the point of being a story?
“How can I get myself told?” thought the story. “I know, I’ll check for a course on how a story gets itself told.”
The story checked all the university and college’s catalogs for a course on what a story needs to do to get told. It saw lots of courses for people on how to write stories, but no courses for stories on how to get themselves told.
Soon the story became depressed. It wanted to see a therapist, but therapists only treat depressed people and not depressed stories.
And so the story moped and moped, but still it hoped.
“I hope that one day someone will discover me,” thought the story. “I hope that one day someone tell me to the world! But I won’t let not being told stop me from being happy.”
With those thoughts, the story saved itself and stopped moping. It existed happily ever after.