By Prospero Dae
I was juggling earlier today. I had three creamy-white eggs in the air. Luckily I was in the hen house—plenty eggs should I falter. A ghost white feather tickled my nose and I nearly sneezed. Phew!
Looking outside I could see a fox blanching in the sun. Bad fox, I thought.
I had over a hundred eggs in the air—and that, let me tell you, takes talent. Some of the eggs were brown, but most were white. Three hundred eggs now folks—a Ferris wheel of uncracked spheres.
It’s Tuesday, and Tuesday is my day for telling white lies.
Keep the brown eggs to a minimum, and there’s no telling what excellencies may be reached in your art of juggling. You may even get a blanched fox to join the act and jump through the center of your Ferris wheel!
I think sun-blanched foxes only exist in short fiction that toys trickily with whiteness.
Fun!
Messy!
Well, that too.
a Ferris wheel of uncracked spheres. –
this is just marvelous!
They have metaphorical Ferris wheels in Poland too?
Fun, had me smiling mid-way thinking oh yeah – and just how are we to believe you. Then when 300 hit the air – I knew “juggling” was the perfect word.
But I can juggle 300 eggs flawlessly ( you will note that this is Tuesday).
Terrific story. No lie. Tuesdays happen to be the only day of the week I speak the truth.
Naturally when I submitted the story I had no idea they would publish it on a Tuesday. They did it on purpose, and that’s no lie (probably).