Once upon a time there sat a young girl in a strange and wonderous
garden. It may as well have been a fairy garden for all of the mystical
splendor it held, and the girl that dwelled within was of the right sort to
appreciate the magic without needing to understand it. While most people
would have been contemplating the secrets behind the appearance, this girl
spent a great deal of her time thinking on the subject of fingers and toes
and the things that attach them. She turned red as she did this, for she
hated feet and toes with an unforgiving, unmatched ire. Also, this was an
anger that can not be understood by most people, because her thoughts were
strange and more than slightly confusing.
She hated feet, and had an equal contempt for toes, but was rarely
angered by both concurrently. At times she hated toes and loved feet, which
to her were two completely seperate things, but that made her question what
feet would be without toes. They would still exist, but would they want to?
This type of thought tended to compound her anger with profuse sadness.
And if the thought of feet without toes wasn't enough, what could
possibly become of toes without feet? Toes without feet would be practically
non-existant, having no context to make them be anything but unattached,
unalive pieces of nothingness.
But according to the sages of the North Stone, a life without feet
and toes would altogether cease to be humane, so it was impossible to hate
them altogether as it was to hate the concept of time. But this afternoon,
this afternoon it had gone on for much too long and she exploded with the
greatest foot fury imaginable. She consumated her newly refined hatred for
both feet and toes by cursing them at the top of her voice, while at the same
time ridding herself of her feet and toes and discovering that without them
she could fly. Without feet came freedom, and as the girl flew, floated and