(Today’s story is to celebrate what is apparently “National Tell a Fairy Tale Day” in the United States!)
Jack’s mother was absolutely skint, except for the cow of course which was dry and she didn’t have a freezer back in those days to freeze the meat.
“Jack,” she said, “Take the cow to the market and sell it so we can buy enough food to last us a few days. After that I don’t have a clue what we’re going to do.”
Jack took the cow – it was brown and white – and headed for the market. On the way he met an old man who offered him a handful of beans in exchange for the cow. Jack took them, grateful that he didn’t have to walk all the way to market.
When he got home, deep down his mother was really annoyed, but she patiently said, “That’s lovely, Jack. We shall make some bean soup with them.”
And she did that. It lasted for only one meal.
Oh! If only she had angrily tossed the beans out the window! What a difference it would have made to their lives!
There’s no need to fret and get upset. All I said was “You’re almost skinny enough to be a model”. I meant it as a compliment. It’s true – you are almost skinny enough to be a model. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s no need to get upset about it.
Try to remember the positive – like the time you were fat and repulsive and you decided to do something about it. And you did. You lost a lot of unnecessary weight and you should be proud of what you’ve achieved and not upset about it. Of course, going on a diet like you did, can’t do anything about looks. That’s not my responsibility. Nor yours, to be frank. You can’t improve the face God gave you without a great deal of expense. Yet, you are almost pretty enough to be a model.
But being overweight is something you can do something about, and you did. Although all your old clothes no longer fit, and you look like a rag doll, that’s no reason to spend most of your time in tears, blubbering away like some God-forsaken lamb dressed as mutton. If you could perhaps adapt your clothes a bit I would say that you would almost be dressed well enough to be a model.
So, to sum up: you are almost skinny enough to be a model, you are almost pretty enough to be a model, and you would almost be dressed well enough to be a model to advertise the can of beans on our supermarket brochure. But you don’t quite tip the scales.
If there was one thing Gaylene disliked doing every day, it was grinding the coffee beans. She had an electric grinder. It made a huge noise. Of course she could have purchased pre-ground coffee, but it was never as fresh. So out came the electric coffee grinder.
Her husband was the coffee drinker. Gaylene herself drank tea. He insisted on the home-ground beans. For her part, Gaylene, when she tried it, couldn’t taste the difference between home-ground and bought-ground.
Gaylene always ground the coffee beans the night before, in preparation for the next morning. She was in the adjoining kitchen while her husband sat and watched the News on television. Of course she could only grind during the advertisements. Even then, Gaylene had to first announce “NOISE!” and then would begin grinding.
Anyway, the other evening her husband was trying to watch the television and the grinder just kept going. So after the sports results had finished and he’d told her to “turn that thing off” several times, he got up and looked.
Bonita was famous. She was a film star. She was rich. She was divorced. She had a manservant called Rupert.
There were two things that Bonita detested; one was flies in the house, and the other was weak coffee. The coffee had to be ground from the beans. It had to be percolated. It had to be strong.
Quite frankly, Rupert was sick of it. He penned his resignation. He would hand it to Bonita tomorrow morning.
“Rupert! There are six dead blowflies on the window sill in the kitchen. And the coffee this morning was as weak as weasel piss.” She spoke the word “piss” like it was disgusting; like she was holding someone else’s used tissue that had snot in it. “Do better tomorrow.”
The morning came. Rupert cleaned the window sill. He ground the beans. He made the coffee. Later, he handed in his resignation.
“That’s a shame,” said Bonita. “This morning’s coffee was the tastiest you’ve ever made. It had a bit of body to it.”