A Story, a Stór

Once upon a time there was naughty little child. A terrible wee thing, really. This child never, not once, got anything done in a timely fashion. Homework was always late and often incomplete, resulting in substandard marks. This child would arrive for a birthday party hours after the last piece of sweet cake had been eaten, and with no brightly wrapped gift. Christmas morning came and went and never a present for parent, friend or sibling from this lazy little child.

One day, the awful thing's poor mother reminded the small child that the following day, which happened to be July 20, was the final day that the local Irish Fest would accept submissions for their wonderful and generous Irish story contest. The mother, bless her soul, was a fine woman, a good, decent and caring parent whose pride in her Irish heritage ran deep. She certainly deserved better than the awful child that God had, in His wisdom, inexplicably cursed her with.

"Now, remember child, that tomorrow being the 20th, you've just one day to submit a story to the contest that the wonderful people at Irish Fest are conducting" she told the little beast. "You can win a professionally done illustration based on your story, and wouldn't that be grand, then?"

But the child, dreadful thing, ignored his sainted mother's advice and instead of writing a story filled with Irish magic as asked by the wonderful people at Irish Fest, spent the day playing an overly-violent game on the color television set. Later that day, while crossing the street to buy cigarettes, the child was struck by a bus and dispatched to a messy and untimely end.

The End

The moral of this story of course, is that you dear child avoid the fate of that unfortunate by getting your story submitted in time for tomorrow's deadline. If you need a gentle reminder of what is required of you, kindly click here. Thank you.