A MAD MAN IN THE CITY

Julian finally left his village when there was no one left living there. He had never left his beloved village before, but intrigued by the fact that everyone had gone to the city, he decided to go and see for himself what wonderful things those cities had. So he packed a knapsack with a few clothes, put on his best smile, and off he went to the city.

On reaching the city, he was given a most unexpected welcome. A couple of policemen stopped Julian and questioned him in great detail. It turned out that Julian had seemed ‘suspiciously happy’ for someone with hardly any possessions. In the end, the police had to let him go, but they were still suspicious about this apparently simple and good-natured fellow.

The first thing Julian noticed about the city was all the rushing around. Everyone was in such a hurry that he thought that there must be something special happening that day, which no one wanted to miss. Curious as to what it was, Julian started following a man who looked like he was hurrying to see whatever it was that was happening. However, after several hours following him, the man arrived at a small flat and went inside. He had done or seen nothing of interest that whole day.

That night Julian slept in a park. The park was strewn with bits of paper and plastic. As the bins were completely empty, Julian thought how cool it was that the city had seemingly invented plants with petals made of paper and plastic. He only believed this until the following morning, when a man came by and dropped his chocolate wrapper.

Julian carried on walking through the city streets, trying to understand what was going on, when he arrived at a group of big warehouses, which many people were entering. “This must be the best museum in the world,” he thought, on entering, and seeing all the uselesslooking things they had inside. But then he saw that people were picking these things up, paying for them, and taking them away.

“Why would anyone want a watch which doesn’t show the minutes?” he wondered to himself, after seeing a woman very contentedly leaving with the most modern of watches on her wrist. He thought pretty much the same when seeing a pair of shoes with impossibly high heels, and then some electronic device which did a thousand things, and none of them well. Once again, he decided to follow the lady with the watch. He saw her joy turn into disappointment when her friends gave her new watch a look of disapproval. Julian started regretting having left his village, just to come to this place where no one seemed happy.

Then he saw a few kids playing. Now, they certainly did seem happy, playing, running about, chasing each other. Except for one child, who seemed troubled by a little machine they were calling a console. He was hitting it so hard with his fingers, and making all kinds of faces and angry gestures, that when one of the other children came over to invite him to play with them, the boy with the console just rudely walked away. Julian thought that the boy was trying to destroy that little machine because it was making him so unhappy. He decided to help the boy. Julian went over, took the console, threw it on the ground, stamped on it, and looked at the boy with great satisfaction.

At this the boy flew into a rage, as did all the other children there, and nearly all the adults. They pursued Julian so relentlessly that he had to run away. He didn’t stop running until he reached the road leading back to his village.

As he was making his way home he couldn’t help wondering whether the whole world had gone mad.

NEVER MAKE FUN OF A RHINO

Once, on the African plains, there lived a moody rhino who was very easily angered. One day, a giant turtle entered the rhino’s territory unaware. The rhino quickly ran over to the turtle, with the intention of getting rid of it. The turtle was frightened and withdrew into its shell.

When the rhino demanded that the turtle get out of his territory, there was no discernible movement. The rhino was incredibly annoyed; he thought the turtle was fooling him. So he started banging the shell to make the turtle come out. No success, and his blows got increasingly violent. He whacked it with his horn, sending the poor turtle flying in all directions. From a distance, it looked a bit like a solitary game of football, with the turtle as the ball.

Quite an amusing spectacle, it was, and a load of monkeys soon gathered close by to enjoy it. They laughed non-stop at the angry rhino and his struggle with the turtle.

The rhino was so furious that he didn’t even notice that they were there. On he went, until he had to stop for a second to get his breath.

Now that he wasn’t bashing the shell, he could hear the laughing and joking of the monkeys, who were making fun of him in every way you can imagine.

Neither the rhino, nor the turtle – who had appeared from his shell -, enjoyed the fact that a gang of monkeys was mocking them.

So, they exchanged a knowing look, nodded, and the turtle went back inside his shell. This time the rhino very quietly retreated a few steps, looked at the turtle, looked at the monkeys, took a run up, and shot the giant turtle, with such a good aim, that it seemed like he was using the monkeys as skittles.

The ‘strike’ against the monkeys turned that place into something of a casualty ward for baboons. There they all lay, covered in cuts and bruises, and not even a smirk crossed their lips. Meanwhile, off went the rhino and the turtle, smiling like old friends… and while the monkeys were putting on their sticking plasters, their chief realised it was about time they found a better way to amuse themselves than making fun of others.

THE MATH DUNCE

That year, in the local school, there was a new Math teacher, as well as some new pupils. One of the new kids was the stupidest child anyone had ever seen. It made no difference how quickly or how slowly they tried explaining numbers to him; he would always end up saying something enormously dumb. Like two plus two was five, seven times three was twenty-seven, or a triangle had thirty corners…

Before this boy arrived, Maths lessons had been the most boring of all. Now they were great fun. Encouraged by the new teacher, the children would listen to the pieces of nonsense spouted by the new kid, and they would have to correct his mistakes.

They all wanted to be the first to find his mistakes, and then think up the most original ways to explain them. To do this they used all kinds of stuff: sweets, playing cards, oranges, paper planes…

It didn’t seem like any of this bothered the new kid.

However, little Lewis was sure that it was bound to make him feel sad inside.

So, one day, he decided to follow the new kid home after school; Lewis was sure he would see him crying.

On leaving school, the new kid walked a few minutes to a local park, and there he waited for a while, until someone came along to meet him…

It was the new teacher!

The teacher gave the new kid a hug, and off they went, hand in hand. Following from a distance, Lewis could hear they were talking about Math.

And that stupid new kid knew everything about it, much more than anyone in the class!

THE WHITE ROSE

In a garden filled with bushes, out from between a load of grass and weeds, there appeared, as if from nowhere, a white rose. It was as white as driven snow, its petals looked like velvet, and the morning dew shone from its leaves like resplendent crystals. The flower couldn’t see herself, so she had no idea how pretty she was. And so it was that she spent the few days of her life, until wilting set on, without knowing that all around her were amazed by her and her perfection: her perfume, the softness of her petals, her elegance. She didn’t realise that everyone who saw her spoke well of her. The weeds that surrounded her were fascinated by her beauty, and lived in a state of enchantment at her aroma and appearance.

One hot, sunny day, a girl was strolling through the garden, thinking about how many lovely things Mother Nature has given us, when she suddenly saw a white rose in a forgotten part of the garden. The rose was beginning to fade and wilt.

-“It’s days since it rained,” she thought,

-“if the rose stays here till tomorrow it’ll be totally withered. I’ll take it home and put it in the lovely vase I got as a present.”

And so she did. With all her love she put the wilting white rose in water, inside a lovely colourful glass vase, and placed it by the window.

-“I’ll put it here,” she thought,

-“so the flower can get some sun.”

What the young girl didn’t realise was that the reflection from the window meant that, for the first time, the rose got to see herself and what she looked like.

-“Is that me?”

thought the rose. Little by little her drooping leaves began to rise, once again stretching up towards the sun, and, gradually, the rose recovered her former appearance. When she was totally back to her best she looked at her reflection and saw that she was indeed a beautiful flower. She thought

-“Wow! Till now I hadn’t realised who I was, how could I have been so blind?”

The rose came to realise she had spent her days without appreciating her beauty, unable to see herself, unable to know who she really was.

If you really want to know who you are, forget everything that’s around you, and just look into your heart.

THE RUBY THIEF

In the palace of Rubyland there was a ruby thief. No one knew who it was, and the thief had everyone so fooled that the only thing known about him was that he lived in the palace, and that when you were in the palace you should always hide your jewels.

The King decided to find out who it was, and he asked for help from a wise dwarf who was famed for his intelligence. The dwarf spent some days there, watching and listening, until their was another theft. The following morning the wise dwarf made all the palace inhabitants meet up together in the same room. After inspecting them for the whole morning, and during lunch, without saying a word, the dwarf started asking them all, one by one, what they knew about the stolen jewels.

Once again, it seemed that no one had been the thief. But then, suddenly, one of the gardeners began coughing, writhing and moaning, and finally he fell to the floor.

The dwarf, with a cheeky smile, explained that the food they had just eaten was poisoned, and the only antidote for this poison was hidden inside the ruby that had been stolen the previous night. And he explained how, some days earlier, he himself had swapped some false rubies for the genuine ones, and that he expected that only the thief would be able to save his life, since the poison was particularly quick working…

The coughs and groans spread around the room, and terror took hold of all present. All except one person. A footman didn’t take long to run over to where he had hidden the jewels, from where he took the final ruby. Fortunately he would be able to open it and drink the strange liquid inside, thus saving his life.

Or so he believed, because the gardener was, in fact, one of the dwarf’s assistants, and the poison was nothing more than a potion prepared by the little investigator to cause a few strong pains for a short while, but nothing more than that. And the footman, now found out, was arrested by the guards and taken immediately to court.

The King, grateful, generously rewarded his wise adviser, and when he asked the dwarf what his secret was, the dwarf smiled and said:

-“I only try to get the person knowing the truth to reveal that truth.”

-“And who knew it? If the thief had deceived everyone…

-“No, your majesty, not everyone. Anyone can deceive everyone, but no one can deceive themselves.”

THE DRAWING THAT TALKED

Pinty Tailor was a little boy who enjoyed going to school and doing all sorts of things, except for art and writing. Using brushes and pencils did not come easy to Pinty, so his works of art did not end happily, and he would just give up in disgust.

But one day Pinty found a pencil of such lovely colours that he could not resist, and he tried drawing a circle. As ever, it did not go well, and he was about to throw the pencil away when his drawing began to speak to him.

‘Psst! You aren’t going to leave me like this, are you? Come on, the least you can do is draw me a pair of eyes!’ said the drawing. Pinty was understandably shocked, but he managed to draw two little spots inside the circle.

‘Much better, now I can see myself,’ said the circle, looking around at itself… ‘Arghh! But what have you done to me?!’

‘I don’t draw very well,’ said Pinty, trying to make excuses.

‘OK, no problem,’ the drawing interrupted him, ‘I’m sure that if you try again you’ll do better. Go on, rub me out!’ So Pinty erased the circle and drew another one. Like the first one, it was not very round.

‘Hey! You forgot the eyes again!’

‘Oh, yeah.’

‘Hmmm, I think I’m going to have to teach you how to draw until you can do me well,’ said the circle with its quick, squeaky little voice.

To Pinty, who remained almost paralysed with shock, this did not seem like a bad idea, and he immediately found himself drawing and erasing circles. The circle would not stop saying ‘rub this out, but carefully; it hurts,’ or ‘draw me some hair, quickly, I look like a lollipop!’ and other funny remarks.

After spending nearly the whole afternoon together, Pinty could already draw the little figure much better than most of his classmates could have. He was enjoying it so much that he did not want to stop drawing with this crazy new teacher of his. Before going to bed that night, Pinty gave his new instructor a hearty thank you for having taught him how to draw so well.

‘But I didn’t do anything, silly!’ answered the little drawing, in its usual quick manner.

‘Don’t you see that you’ve been practicing a lot, and enjoying it all the while? I bet that’s the first time you’ve done that!’

Pinty stopped to think. The truth was that previously, he had drawn so badly because he had never practiced more than ten minutes at a time, and he had always done it angrily and grudgingly. Without doubt, what the little drawing had said was correct.

‘OK, you’re right, but thank you anyway,’ said Pinty, and before he went to bed he carefully placed the pencil in his school bag.

The next morning Pinty jumped out of bed and went running to find his pencil, but it was not there. He searched everywhere, but there was no sign of it. And the sheet of paper on which he had drawn the little figure, although still full of rubbing out marks, was completely blank. Pinty began to worry, and he did not know if he had really spent the previous afternoon talking with the little man or whether he had dreamt the whole thing.

So, to try to settle the matter, he took a pencil and some paper and tried to draw a little man.

It turned out not bad at all, except for a couple of jagged lines. He imagined his bossy little teacher telling him to round out those edges, and that it looked like he was trying to give him spots. Pinty gladly rubbed out those bits and redrew them. He realised that the crazy little teacher had been right: it made no difference whether you had the magic pencil or not; to manage to do things, you only needed to keep trying and to enjoy doing so.

From that day on, whenever Pinty tried to draw or paint, or do anything else, he always had fun imagining the result of his work protesting to him and saying ‘Come on, my friend, do me a bit better than that! I can’t go to the party looking like this!’