Forget Biology, I should be a writer...

Well, not with such an extremist attitude. I've always liked stories and telling them. I love telling jokes because, well, I think I'm good at it, and I like to see people entertained. I was just thinking about the other day, when a commercial for Barbie's new movie the 12 Dancing Princesses, or something like that, aired. Callie said something, and then I asked her if she knew the story. After she replied in the negative, I tapped into my recollections of the stories I'd read in elementary school and told the summation of the tale to the best of my ability.

I said something of these twelve beautiful princesses, all daughters to the great king of the realm. Every day these princesses received new slippers, and every morning, the slippers would be worn out completely, something which baffled the king to no end. He couldn't figure it out. So the king held a tournament of sorts, letting all the eligible young men of the kingdom try their hands at this mystery, and he who could solve it would win the hand of the eldest in marriage. But everytime they tried, the eldest sister, who was by far the most intelligent of the lot, would mix a simple sleeping draught and pour it into his evening drink. When he was asleep, the twelve princesses would steal themselves away and travel to an enchanted land with silver trees and golden leaves, and dance the night away with the fairy kind of that world. They would return to their castle by the time the sun's first rays warmed the earth, and then the young man would awake and be at a loss to explain why their slippers were worn through. The king would dismiss him and show in the next man. Well, there came one man who heard of this puzzle, and decided to try his hand at solving it. So into the castle he went, and into his evening drink went the sleeping draught, but he only pretended to drink, and then pretended to fall into a drugged sleep. Away stole the princesses, with him silently trailing them. He watched them dance, and brought back a silver branch with golden leaves as proof of this enchanted realm. When morning came, and he pretended to awake, he told the king all he had seen, produced the evidence, and so won the eldest princess's hand in marriage. And they all lived happily every after.

By the end of this tale, Callie could not stop laughing at me. Apparently I had told it to her in the same manner someone would tell a small child this story at bedtime. I laughed it off then, but now I come to realize that I think in this manner far more often than I had previously thought. I treat most things as characters in some story, all in my head of course, can't have anyone thinking I'm crazy. My shoes, my desk, my printer, the vacuum, my dolphin,...whatever. All have a personality and all can feel emotions just as well as I. Crazy, eh? And then there's the stories I've been writing for at least six years. Nothing worth reading, but stories all the same. Maybe I'll write something of value one day, and publish it to world-wide aclaim. And if not, at least my kids will be thoroughly entertained when I tuck them in at night. Who knows?