Once Upon a Time there lived a young man named Gibble. Gibble
loved to play, and
he loved to run and jump and dance. And he loved to sing and
yodel and play the violin and the piano and the bongos and the
Gibble loved animals. He loved piglets and lemmings and bats and
little lion cubs and big lion cubs who were slightly overweight
and cuddly kitties and sometimes even dead kitties because they
reminded him of the cuter, living ones.
Gibble liked to ride his bike to and from school and to and from
the soda stand where he worked and to and from his mother's house
and to and from his father's house and to and from his step-mother's
house and to and from his step-mother's house and to and from his
common law mother's house and to and from his mother's boyfriend's
house. Riding the bike was fun.
One day, he was riding his bike and he was singing an old Beatles
song and then he sang an old Rolling Stones song and then he sang
a newer Pearl Jam song (but he didn't really understand it since
he didn't wear flannel) and then he sang a really old choir hymn.
He liked the songs he learned in church the best because they
brought him closer to God. And closer to his friend Rummell who
So Gibble was riding his red, white and purple bike with the pretty
blue wheels and the pink tassels and the big bright blue balloons
which looked not unlike blue balls, bobbing in the sun. In fact,
the blue balloons were so large and obstructing that they blocked
Gibble's vision and he didn't see the big truck coming which
smacked him upside the head and he fell down dead.
The morale of the story is: Big balloons may be nice to look at,
but they can kill you.