Once upon a time there was a big bad wolf who liked to eat and a lad who liked to cry “Wolf! Wolf!” even when big bad wasn’t hungry. The wolf got barbequed and the lad – whom, it turned out, wasn’t eaten – went off to make his fortune somewhere where people listened to him when he cried wolf.
After many, many years our dear lad heard about a town with a weird statue and realized that this was his home town and after hearing the truly tall tales the tourists were told figured that statue must be a statue of him.
He went on a march back home to see the statue and ran into many of the lassies who still hadn’t washed those spots where they insisted, despite his faulty memory, that he kissed them long, long ago. These lassies, who now ran the town, set the lad up in a prosperous business of freely kissing any lassie – tourist or local – for only $10 per decent peck on the cheek.
After that who wouldn’t want to live happily ever after?
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Denise offers “march” as the prompt for this week’s Six Sentence Stories.
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 