Friday, April 23, 2004

I usually don’t outsource to myself, if that makes any sense, but I’ve a nasty headache that’s dampening the creative spirit something fierce. Self-quoting is like grabbing something you’ve cooked, stuffing it down your throat, and then hocking it up for all to see. But hey, it’s Friday, and that makes all the difference in the world.

My mum graduates from the CPE program today, and the following, in all its unedited glory, is part of the speech I whipped up for her. And no, gentle reader, there aren’t any pictures. You’ll just have to imagine them, kinda like making pictures in your mind.

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I want to tell you a story about another time, another countryside, where a proud brown mouse lived.

One day, the proud brown mouse heard all the mice in the village crying out for food.

They were all very hungry.

So the proud brown mouse set out into the field to find some food.

He walked and he walked, and then he found a farm.

And on this farm was a cow.

“Please,” said the proud brown mouse, “could you give me some cheese?”

The cow laughed. “Don’t you know you need milk first?” she said.

“Can you give me milk?” the mouse asked.

“We need the farmer’s help,” said the cow.

So the mouse went closer and closer to the farmhouse.

Suddenly, the farmer burst out with a broom in his hand.

“It’s a rat!” he shouted. “I hate rats!”

Just as he was about to swing his broom, the cow mooed loudly.

The farmer stopped.

“I’m not a rat,” said the mouse. “I’m a mouse.”

And then they talked, laughed, and understood each other.

“Can you help me make some cheese?” asked the mouse.

“Of course,” said the farmer.

So he milked the cow, made the cheese, and left it on the porch.

The farmer was late for an appointment, so he dashed into his car and drove off.

The proud brown mouse looked at the huge piece of cheese and cried out.

“How am I going to carry this back? Can you help me?” he asked the cow.

But the cow had already fallen asleep.

Luckily enough, the farmer’s dog and vegetarian cat heard the cry for help.

“We will help you,” they said.

So the dog and the cat broke the cheese, carefully put the pieces into their mouths,

And all three of them started walking back to the village.

But then a crow who wanted the cheese for himself cawed loudly and flew toward them.

“Get away! Get away!” barked the dog, and the crow flew away.

It was evening when they arrived at the village, and the cat and the dog dropped the cheese in the town square.

“How do we slice the cheese?” wailed all the mice.

“Like this,” said the cat, and she sliced the cheese with her claws.

Far away, the farmer stepped out of his car and called to his dog and his cat.

Both of them heard the call and ran back to their master.

Just as the mice were about to eat the cheese, the crow returned, flapping in the sky like a thunderstorm.

“What do we do? What do we do?” cried the mice.

But the wise brown mouse, once proud but now humbled, remembered the dog.

And he squeaked and he squeaked until he barked and he barked,

And all the mice joined in to scare off the crow.

When they were safe again, they turned to the cheese.

The wise brown mouse stepped forward,

And he remembered the cow who gave the milk,

The farmer who made the cheese,

The cat who taught them how to eat it,

And the dog who showed them how to fight for it.

They ate with thankful hearts,

And the cheese glowed inside them like fire.

May we, too, remember the things that went into our pieces of C.P.Cheese.