folk-tale writing
May. 16th, 2005 05:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crazyfurriesThe Silk-tailed Wolf and the Moon Rat
Every thing has a meaning and a story, and everybody has one to tell. If you happened upon a large wolf with a half-full smile, a silken tail of brightest red and eyes of orange and blue he’d tell you a whopper of a story. If his rare friend a rat the size of a cow would be about he’d confirm the tale of how they nailed the moon down by its ears so it wouldn’t run away. The moon always had big ears, real big eavesdropper he was, a gossip a sneak and a cheat at cards. Now right about then folks couldn’t catch the moon, he was quick to leave before the party had ended, and quicker still to run off with a joke. And what a horrible joker, a pun would be like a knife from that moon’s mouth, sending everyone groaning or running for the bathroom.
Now our wolf-friend back then didn’t have such a bright red tail and was (and still is!) a silly goof, always smiling even when he was hungry, with a grin so full of sap and sugar you’d have thought there was a honeycomb stuck in it. He and the rat thought together, one night after the moon had cheated them both out of their meals. For them this just wouldn’t do, they would trap the moon to earth and give the moon what was due! The wolf didn’t have the cunning god gave a beetle, but the giant rat more than made up for his friend’s lacking, and soon hatched a right nasty plan, they’d need red dye like the one used by the ladies of the hours, a large hammer and huge wooden nails. So the wolf went of into the forest to get trees to make the wooden nails, and the rat went to swipe the dye from the sleeping ladies of the hours, stealing the guard’s hammer while the old sod was staring at the stars. The wolf had a harder time making the nails, but finally managed to chew some logs into sharp points, earning a belly half-full of wood shavings for his trouble, soon catching up to the rat. “Now give me your tail so I can dye it!” The rat demanded at once. The wolf nearly balked at the thought of his splendid silky tail in the hands of the rat, but lat the rat take it and dye it a shade of red like the lips and the clothes of those splendid ladies of the hours. “Now...” Said the giant rat, picking up a huge wooden nail, “Go into those bushes and dance with your new tail… I’ll do the rest,” And hid in the bushes out of sight. Well now the wolf was in a fix, but what could he do? He couldn’t even see his splendid silk tail anymore and so started dancing about in circles trying to catch a glimpse of it. Now what you all don’t know is what a womanizer that ol’ moon was, and how he adored the dances of the ladies of the hours, in bright red silks and not much else if you know my drift. So when he causght a glimpse of that red silk tail he just zipped on down as fast as you please, his long ears trailing on the ground. Then the rat struck his mark, and drove the wooden peg through one of the moon’s ears securing him into place, how how the moon howled and twisted, flying back away stretching out his ears… and he still does it today, you see him turning his head to and fro trying to get away, but to no avail. And that’s what the wolf and the rat say.. …but who trusts the words of a wolf or a rat?
Every thing has a meaning and a story, and everybody has one to tell. If you happened upon a large wolf with a half-full smile, a silken tail of brightest red and eyes of orange and blue he’d tell you a whopper of a story. If his rare friend a rat the size of a cow would be about he’d confirm the tale of how they nailed the moon down by its ears so it wouldn’t run away. The moon always had big ears, real big eavesdropper he was, a gossip a sneak and a cheat at cards. Now right about then folks couldn’t catch the moon, he was quick to leave before the party had ended, and quicker still to run off with a joke. And what a horrible joker, a pun would be like a knife from that moon’s mouth, sending everyone groaning or running for the bathroom.
Now our wolf-friend back then didn’t have such a bright red tail and was (and still is!) a silly goof, always smiling even when he was hungry, with a grin so full of sap and sugar you’d have thought there was a honeycomb stuck in it. He and the rat thought together, one night after the moon had cheated them both out of their meals. For them this just wouldn’t do, they would trap the moon to earth and give the moon what was due! The wolf didn’t have the cunning god gave a beetle, but the giant rat more than made up for his friend’s lacking, and soon hatched a right nasty plan, they’d need red dye like the one used by the ladies of the hours, a large hammer and huge wooden nails. So the wolf went of into the forest to get trees to make the wooden nails, and the rat went to swipe the dye from the sleeping ladies of the hours, stealing the guard’s hammer while the old sod was staring at the stars. The wolf had a harder time making the nails, but finally managed to chew some logs into sharp points, earning a belly half-full of wood shavings for his trouble, soon catching up to the rat. “Now give me your tail so I can dye it!” The rat demanded at once. The wolf nearly balked at the thought of his splendid silky tail in the hands of the rat, but lat the rat take it and dye it a shade of red like the lips and the clothes of those splendid ladies of the hours. “Now...” Said the giant rat, picking up a huge wooden nail, “Go into those bushes and dance with your new tail… I’ll do the rest,” And hid in the bushes out of sight. Well now the wolf was in a fix, but what could he do? He couldn’t even see his splendid silk tail anymore and so started dancing about in circles trying to catch a glimpse of it. Now what you all don’t know is what a womanizer that ol’ moon was, and how he adored the dances of the ladies of the hours, in bright red silks and not much else if you know my drift. So when he causght a glimpse of that red silk tail he just zipped on down as fast as you please, his long ears trailing on the ground. Then the rat struck his mark, and drove the wooden peg through one of the moon’s ears securing him into place, how how the moon howled and twisted, flying back away stretching out his ears… and he still does it today, you see him turning his head to and fro trying to get away, but to no avail. And that’s what the wolf and the rat say.. …but who trusts the words of a wolf or a rat?
