by R. Corell

Once upon a time, there was a family of penguins that lived inside a meatlocker just outside of a gas station, just outside of Waxahachie, Texas. Upon birth, each child was assigned a name and an occupation. Now, by the time the twenty-seventh son was born, all the good penguin names like Quetzalcoatl and Wogoshoonberry were taken and there really weren't any more occupations left in the meatlocker. So, the twenty-seventh son was arbitrarily declared Spot the Spoonmaker.

Spot didn't realize that all of this was arbitrary and he set out to be the very best spoonmaker he could be. All of the day and all of the night, Spot would fervently craft his spoons and contemplate his occupation. But Spot was soon consumed with nagging doubts. Were his spoons the best they could be? Were there other spoons in the world? Other spoonmakers? Was there more to life, the universe, and everything than the clammy interior of a moldy meatlocker? He began to wonder if there were a world outside the meatlocker, a world full of not only spoons, but flatware of all kinds.

Spot went to his father and said, "Father..."

And his father said, "Who the hell are you?"

And Spot said, "I am your twenty-seventh son, Spot."

"Spot? Oh...uh...yeah, sure. I can't tell any of you apart."

"Father, as the family Spoonmaker, I would..."

"Spoonmaker? What are you talking about? Eh?" He then wandered away, as he had no attention span.

But Spot was undaunted. He was a Spoonmaker. He was the best Spoonmaker in the world. As far as he knew. So he gathered the family together and made a bold announcement. "My family," said he, "I plan to journey to the world outside the meatlocker."

There was a general panic. "It's dangerous out there!" they said. "There's nothing out there!" they said. His father spoke, "Chinchinchikika, I don't..."

"Spot, Dad, Spot."

"Whatever. You can't go out there, you'll get eaten by a walrus, just like your Uncle Bob!"

"But Uncle Bob is right over there in the corner."

"Oh. I can't tell any of you apart. Still, it's too dangerous." The rest of the family concurred with his sagacious advice, urging Spot to give up his foolish dream.

But Spot was a maker of Spoons. He heroically strode to the door of the meatlocker and threw it open. The meatlocker, as has been explained, was just outside of a gas station, just outside of Waxahachie, Texas, where it was one-hundred and six degrees in the shade. The meatlocker was not in the shade and all the penguins died of heat prostration except for Uncle Bob, who was eaten by a walrus.

THE END