Category: Intelligent Inanimates

The Magic Mirror and the Queen

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The queen fixed her make-up and then smiled at the mirror. “Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

A fuzzy face appeared in the mirror and her reflection disappeared. “My queen, you are fair, it is true, but Snow White is a thousand times more fair than you.”

The queen scowled and turned from the mirror, a dozen murderous plots already forming in her mind. And then she paused and turned around. “What do you mean when you say fair?”

The mirror narrowed its fuzzy eyes. “What, no rhyme?”

The queen shrugged. “Is it really necessary?”

“I guess not.” The mirror sighed. “There are so many meanings to the word fair. But I know that you meant beautiful, and really she is more beautiful than you at this point.”

“A thousand times more?” Read More

Miss Peckety-Peck

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The factory had moved on to other things. It was long after Easter. The few little mechanical chickens left on store shelves were deeply discounted. The little brown chicken with the bright yellow belly was among that sad number.

She watched the customers pass by without blinking. She was afraid to miss her chance. What if she blinked and they thought she didn’t have eyes at all? She refused to consider the idea. She watched and waited.

One day, a customer was looking through the discount rabbit pencil toppers and met the little chicken’s eyes. She reached out and picked up the little chicken and wound her up and set her down. Peck, step. Peck, step. Peck, step. The woman dropped the chicken into the cart and moved on.

After a long journey in a dark grocery bag, the little chicken was lifted from the bag and handed to a child while the woman unloaded the rest of her groceries. The little girl grinned at the little chicken and wound her up and set her down. Peck, step. Peck, step. Peck, step.

The little girl laughed and clapped her hands. “Mom, the chicken can peck the ground just like a real chicken. I’m going to call her Miss Peckety-Peck.”

“Sounds great, dear. Why don’t you take her to see your room.”

The little girl took Miss Peckety-Peck upstairs and introduced her to Miss Clippety-Clop, and Mister Tall and Mister I-Don’t-Know. Then she dropped the little chicken on a shelf and ran downstairs.

Miss Peckety-Peck looked around at her new home. Miss Clippety-Clop shook her purple sparkly mane and trotted over. “Hello,” she neighed. “I’m a magical princess pony. Mister Tall is a jolly rainbow giraffe and Mister I-Don’t-Know is…” She paused. “No one knows.”

“I’m a chicken,” Miss Peckety-Peck said.

Miss Clippety-Clop waited.

“Just a chicken,” Miss Peckety-Peck added.

“Oh.” Miss Clippety-Clop didn’t look at all impressed. “We’ll just let you settle in.” She backed away and joined the others.

“Boring,” Mister I-Don’t-Know whispered loudly.

And so Miss Peckety-Peck learned that finding a home wasn’t really all that she dreamed it would be. The little girl rarely glanced at her and the other toys ignored her. Miss Peckety-Peck stared out the window day after day and dreamed of being a real chicken. She was sure that if she didn’t blink, she’d one day get her wish.

And then, around midsummer, there was a tapping at the window. Miss Clippety-Clop, Mister Tall, and Mister I-Don’t-Know glanced up and then looked away again. “Just a branch,” Mister I-Don’t-Know whispered loudly.

But Miss Peckety-Peck didn’t look away and didn’t blink. She stared out the window, and so she saw the moment when the branch turned into a green fairy. They locked eyes. The green fairy put a hand up to the window and stepped through. The other toys didn’t notice.

“Do you have a wish?” the green fairy asked.

“I want to be a real chicken,” Miss Peckety-Peck said.

The green fairy smiled. “The moment you act like a real chicken, you will be a real chicken.”

“I can peck the ground just like a real chicken if someone winds me up and sets me down,” Miss Peckety-Peck pointed out. The green fairy laughed and faded away.

Miss Peckety-Peck stared out the window and waited. A week later, the little girl took her toys out to play in the yard. When she was called in for lunch, she left them in the heat-yellowed grass in the shade of the tree. The toys watched the clouds pass high overhead and the sun slowly slide across the sky.

Just as the setting sun was painting the edge of the sky in pinks and purples, the little girl returned to scoop up her toys. She picked up Miss Clippity-Clop, Mister Tall, and Mister I-Don’t-Know and hurried inside. Their bright colors made them easy to spot and retrieve. Miss Peckety-Peck, little and brown and yellow, was wearing effective camouflage colors, and she blent in too well with her surroundings. She was left behind.

Throughout the evening, Miss Peckety-Peck stared unblinking across the lawn. Finally she was outside where real chickens lived. If she didn’t blink, she’d surely notice the thing she needed to do to prove she was a real chicken. She watched and waited.

The next day dawned. Cars and dogs and people passed along the street beyond the tree. The sun climbed high overhead and waited there. The street was empty. Miss Peckety-Peck watched and waited.

And then, a piece of paper blew through the yard and hit Miss Peckety-Peck in the face. She blinked. Startled, she flapped her wings and ran around, squawking in fright. It took her a moment to realize that no one had wound her up.

She wasn’t little or mechanical any more. She was finally a real chicken. She didn’t have to watch and wait any more. She crossed the road and flew away, ready to seek her fortune.

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The Pet Rock

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Once there were three brothers who were sitting in a lawyer’s office, waiting for the reading of their father’s will. Their mother died when the youngest was a baby, and now he was just barely an adult. They were orphans.

They were feeling pretty sorry for themselves. Not only had their father died and left them all alone in the world, he had died at a very inconvenient time.

“I had to delay planting the second crops on half the fields,” Arnold, the oldest, said. “This is going to throw off my harvest schedule.”

The middle child, Bernard, sighed. “I had to take all my finals early. I didn’t have enough study time. I hope I did all right.”

The youngest, Charles, didn’t say anything at all. He missed his Dad and didn’t know what was going to happen now.

The lawyer came in, looking solemn. He quickly read through the will. The oldest got the farm and the old farmhouse. The middle child inherited enough money to pay for his rent and schooling. The lawyer handed the youngest child his father’s pet rock.

Arnold looked at Bernard. “He gave you too much money. I need some of that to help me update the farm equipment.”

Bernard scoffed. “You have the farmhouse. Sell that.”

Charles looked up from the rock in alarm. “Then where will I stay?”

Blinking, the older two brothers looked at their younger brother, then at each other. “With him!” they each said, pointing at the other.

“He could help you on the farm,” Bernard pointed out.

“He’d get in the way. He’s so clumsy,” Arnold said. “He should probably go to school with you and learn to do something else.”

“I don’t have enough money to pay for him, too,” Bernard protested.   “There is just enough for me.   Besides, he’s old enough now to make his own decisions, and I’m sure he’d much rather stay on the farm.”

“He’s not staying with me, just because you’re too selfish to help him out,” Arnold said.

“Well, you’re more selfish, and he’s not staying with me.”

In the end, they filled out their paperwork and left Charles alone in the office with the lawyer and the pet rock. “You really can’t stay here either,” the lawyer said.

And Charles found himself standing on the sidewalk all alone, with just a pet rock and the clothes he was wearing. “What will I do now?” he said sadly.

“Let’s start with getting you some dinner,” the rock said. “And maybe a little spending money.”

“Did you just talk?” Charles asked.

“Of course I did,” the rock said. “I think the best idea is some impromptu performance art. Have you ever heard of stone soup?”

A few hours later, the rock was resting in the bottom of a large pot of clean boiling water, and people were bringing ingredients to add to the pot in exchange for a bowl of the soup when it was done. They were also dropping donations into his hat. By the end of the evening, his hat and belly were full.

“What now?” he asked the rock.

“Does the evil giant ogre still live in that castle a few towns over?” the rock asked.

“He’s as evil as ever,” Charles said. “He ate a whole town’s worth of people last week.”

“That’s too bad about the people,” the rock said. “Have you ever heard of David and Goliath?”

“What? But I’m so clumsy.”

“It won’t matter.”

After an evening of practicing with his new sling, and a night of sleeping under the stars, Charles was ready to face the ogre. He caught the bus and took it as far as he could with the money he had left.   Then he walked to the ogre’s castle.

“Be ready. You only really get one shot at this,” the rock said.

“I’m ready,” Charles said. And he was.   Though clumsy, Charles had an excellent throwing arm and was in demand as a pitcher for local baseball games.   The ogre never knew what hit him.

Charles retrieved the rock from where it had fallen when the ogre died.   “Now what?” he asked.

“Bury the ogre, take over the castle, and live happily ever after,” the rock said. “And buy me a nice hat with some of the ogre’s loot.”

“You can wear a hat?” Charles asked.

“Of course I can,” the rock said. “Just make sure it’s my size.”

And they lived happily ever after.