A Christmas Story
(you may have already read this on my Facebook feed)
On the first day of December, I was walking along the frost-encrusted streets, watching the last fine pink veil of dawn fade away. I heard an insistent chirruping, over and over again. I searched for the source, as the little tune would not let me go.
Eventually, I found it. A little robin, so fat as to almost spherical, sat on a bare winter branch, singing its tiny heart out. It looked like the living image of a classic Christmas card.
As I watched this perfect evocation of Christmas spirit come to life, the robin fell silent, and looked at me. It stared straight into my eyes – did a massive poo, and flew away.
The moral of the story is, when people tell us a tale could not happen in real life, they’re wrong. Misers can come to their senses, snowmen dance, robins sing on bare branches. Art can come to life.
The difference is, when Life imitates Art, it always puts a sting in the tale.
Sent from my iPad