Once upon a time, Etwas the Elf was running through the forests of grass, under the canopies of clover and around the stems of tall flowers when she arrived at the edge of a creek. She made little boats out of foxtail seeds, put them in the stream and watched them drift away on the current. It was a hot and sunny day and Etwas was ready to spend hours in just this way.
After a while she took a pine needle and set it like a pole in the water. She set three little foxtail canoes behind it, and raised the pole with a flourish letting all three vessels leave at once. The first out of sight was declared grand champion master creekcanoist. Then she left her pole with four foxtail seeds behind it and wandered upstream and released more seeds one by one until the weight of the accumulated pips was enough to bend the starting pole and the gathered armada sailed on in a long single file.
Etwas bent over the stream to contemplate spontaneous organization of feathered seeds and how they imitate the endeavors of man and elf when a trout broke the surface and swallowed her up.
Inside the trout's belly, Etwas was not sure how to escape. She sang "Those In Peril On The Sea" at the top of her lungs and the trout, who had mistaken the foxtail navy for a funeral procession of skeeters and swallowed the series downstream, choked on the seedlings and sneezed away flora and elfin fauna.
Etwas found herself at the head of a plume of trout juice and foxtails, tumbling underwater and out of control. The stream picked up speed and soon she was crashing in the currents and dragged between stones. She gathered up some of the seeds being battered about with her and knitted them together into a mat which she could surf to the surface. She rode the rapids with a "wheeeeeeeee!" before ending up in a stiller, slower stream.
And ever since then, Etwas sings a slow and worshipful hymn whenever she wants something funny to happen.
After a while she took a pine needle and set it like a pole in the water. She set three little foxtail canoes behind it, and raised the pole with a flourish letting all three vessels leave at once. The first out of sight was declared grand champion master creekcanoist. Then she left her pole with four foxtail seeds behind it and wandered upstream and released more seeds one by one until the weight of the accumulated pips was enough to bend the starting pole and the gathered armada sailed on in a long single file.
Etwas bent over the stream to contemplate spontaneous organization of feathered seeds and how they imitate the endeavors of man and elf when a trout broke the surface and swallowed her up.
Inside the trout's belly, Etwas was not sure how to escape. She sang "Those In Peril On The Sea" at the top of her lungs and the trout, who had mistaken the foxtail navy for a funeral procession of skeeters and swallowed the series downstream, choked on the seedlings and sneezed away flora and elfin fauna.
Etwas found herself at the head of a plume of trout juice and foxtails, tumbling underwater and out of control. The stream picked up speed and soon she was crashing in the currents and dragged between stones. She gathered up some of the seeds being battered about with her and knitted them together into a mat which she could surf to the surface. She rode the rapids with a "wheeeeeeeee!" before ending up in a stiller, slower stream.
And ever since then, Etwas sings a slow and worshipful hymn whenever she wants something funny to happen.
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