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“Storyteller” Click on image to connect to WPClipArt.com.

“Ugh,” said Simplia, groping her way down the stairs.

“Blech,” Sagacia echoed, pushing the kitchen door open. “Co-o-offffffeeee!” she wailed.

Simplia dug two K-cups out of the reproduction Tom’s Peanuts jar. Sagacia pressed the “on” button and refilled the water vessel.

“How could we oversleep by a whole day!!?” Simplia asked. “24 hours!”

“You have to make up for three nights of not sleeping at all at the National Storytelling Network Conference,” Sagacia replied, popping the cup in the coffeemaker. “Three nights; that’s 24 hours you have to make up somehow.”

“Well, sleeping all day didn’t work!” Simplia whined.

“True,” Sagacia yawned.

The coffeemaker churned and spinned out it’s final puff of steam, and Sagacia handed the mug to Simplia. She discarded the K-cup and put in another.

“We are just big fakes, you know it?” Simplia sighed. “In the afternoons at the Fairy Tale Lobby we brew fine tea and serve it in elegant cups and have crumpets on the side, but when nobody’s looking, we pour our hot caffeine down our throats in the fastest way possible.”

“That’s not being fake,” Sagacia argued. “It’s being good hosts.”  She lifted her mug to her lips and took in that first glorious slurp of aromatic flavor. “Have you seen the newspaper?” she asked.

“On the table,” Simplia pointed. “Though I don’t know how it got there. I didn’t go outside to get it, did you?”

“Nope,” Sagacia said as she pulled out the chair and sat down in front of it. “Oh, it’s yesterday’s,” she added. “See, Monday, August 3.”

“We didn’t go outside and get it yesterday, either.” Simplia noted. “The only thing either of us got up for yesterday was to go to the bathroom.”

“True,” Sagacia agreed. She put on her glasses. “Wait! Look at this lead article!” she said, handing the whole newspaper to her friend.

Simplia put on her glasses and squinted at the words. “Oh, my!” She said. “You mean we missed the whole magical third day of the month?”

“We did,” Sagacia said. “But it still happened!”

“Yep,” Simplia said. “I guess it did!” And then she read aloud:

Dear Vasalisa the wise:

I just wonder: Who the heck tells Fairy Tales any more?

I mean, really TELLS them. Outloud. For their children and their friends. You know, like in the old days? Does that even happen any more?

Have we all gone so literate we can only sit by ourselves and read and shush everyone around us so we can do that? Alone?

I mean, sure you can tell about your day or tell family stories to family members or tell about something that happened in history–especially on an anniversary or something like that. Or you can recount a legend when you drive past its landmark. But Fairy Tales?

I mean really, who does that! And if they do tell Fairy Tales, how? Where? And what good do they do these days, anyway!!

Not that I’m . . .

Challenging you in Chattanooga

Sagacia slammed her coffee cup down on the table. “Well!” she said. “We’ll just see about THAT!”

Murzik read the signs. He lept down from the chair he’d been purring in thinking he could follow the Simpletons to the fairy tale lobby. Or, better yet, get some cat food before they left. Yeah, that! That would be much better!

“Meow,” he called out.

“Just let me get on my walking shoes!” Simplia said.

“Meow!” Murzik pleaded. “Me-o-o-ow!”

So, dear reader, what do you say?

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