I'll rock you to sleep

My wife asked me last night to tell her a bed time story. 

I think my mind instantly turned into a wind tunnel. There is something about creating a story orally that results in my brain cells fleeing for their lives. I'm comfortable with paper or a keyboard. That way when something stupid plops out I can turn my pencil over and erase.

But when my wife asks, I obey.

The story began typically: "Once upon a time there was a boy." I named him Joseph. He didn't have a last name, but I suspect it would be Stille. Joseph was smaller than the rest of the kids in his class, and his hair would never lie flat. His classmates would never let him play football with them at recess.

So Joseph went by himself to the opposite end of the playground and sat with his back against the fence where a tree had grown out of control. Its leaves reached around Joseph, isolating him from the rest of the world.

At this point my wife said I can't tell a sad story.

Good thing Joseph found an escape from this constricting setting. While throwing around wood chips, he discovered a sink hole right next to him. It sucked him into the ground, and he fell for what seemed like an eternity. He landed on soft ground. Green grass and damp earth. He could see nothing but field for miles all around him.

He began walking forward. Straight was the best way to go. After all, backwards meant returning to an awful school and either side was just the same as ahead. 

After several miles of nothing, Joseph stubbed his toe on a rock. Just as he was about to pick up and throw the rock in his angst, it screamed a few choice obscenities at Joseph for stepping on him.

Joseph couldn't be scared. He was too surprised. A talking rock?

"Where am I?" Joseph asked.

The rock narrowed its invisible eyes. "This is Estonia."

"And who are you?" said Joseph.

"I'm a rock. I'm gathering food for a feast at my village tonight," the rock said.

Joseph was very hungry and curious how rocks could eat, so he asked if he could tag along.

The rock nodded to indicate Joseph would be welcome as long as he helped gather food. So off they went into the open field. Joseph didn't want to appear a fool, so he didn't tell the rock that he had no idea what rock's ate. Thankfully, it didn't take long to figure out. Rocks eat dirt. And to collect dirt for a feast, the rock would find wet mud to roll in. All the mud that stuck to the rock could be carried home for food.

I'm pretty sure my wife was comatose by this point in the story. I think it was the powerful dialogue that did her in. I know. It's tough to handle. Tuckers you right out. I might need a nap myself just from writing it.

Maybe I'll finish the story later. Maybe.