Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: A story
From: Mark Beirne Lively <ml5a+@andrew.cmu.edu>
Date: Mon, 12 Oct 1992 00:35:01 -0400 
Organization: Sophomore, Mechanical Engineering, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA

	This is a story for all of you out there in general adn one tired
little sprite in particular.  Tell me what you think, good, bad or
indiferent  THNX:)

	Bear clambers out of the hot tub and starts walking over the bar.  As
he passes behind a collumn his clothing shifts from a bathing suit to
somethign that would look more apropriate on someone who spent there
entire life on the beach(I wish haven't seen one in ages:))  
	"Quid pro Quo Mike?"  He asks cautiously as Mike hands him a wineskin.
	Bear openthe skin and takes a long pull as he walks towards the door. 
He walks over to the coat stand and lifts up a coarse woolen cloak, Done
in a dark blue black color.  The cloak had been there for time
immemorable but noone eally seemed to notice and it just lay there. 
Bear takes the cloak and lifts up it,  twirling it lightly though the
air where land on his shoulders with a light florish.  Bear turns to the
room and his garb has yet again changed.  He has a battered staff in his
right hand and his garb is of a medievil flavor is in somewhat medievil
atire.  With a white shirt and a dark blue vest and course blue pants
ending in dull black boots.  The cloak is now attached with a pin that
black but shiny at the same time, like wrought iron except infinitly
more fine, woven  into what appears to be the shape of the sun.  
	A window smashes open letting in a frigid draft with a smell of
decaying leaves and a hint of early snow.
	"It is time for a story."  Bear says as he takes a pull form his
wineskin and begins

	Long ago before the memory of time, when giants walked the earth and
the world was young.  There was a man of great talent and splendor.  He
accomplished great and mighty things.  It was said that he was blessed
by God.  Everyone thought about him all acknowledged that he was by far
the wisest of men.
	Yet he was not happy.
	He had a lovely wife.  She was wise and her beauty surpassed that of a
summers day.  And no matter what her husband asked of her she did
willingly.  She was always willing to listen to his wodnerful new ideas
of flying machines, and machines that would do all manner of work.  And
she told him that all was all right when his projects exploded.
	Yet he was not happy.
	He had two lovely children a boy and a girl and both were skilled in
the arts.  It was said that none had a finer voice than his daughter and
that his sons hands were magic on the lute.  That there music made the
angels dance and the planets move.
	Yet he was not happy.
	He attended church regulary and was explemfied by the priest who
declared him to be a saint.  He tithed regularly and helped with church
functions.  he cared for the injured and the poor and was said to be the
most generous of men.
	Yet he was not happy.
	So one day after the harvest he took a small bag and packed it with
jerky and biscuits and took a staff, kissed his wife goodbye and headed
off into the wilderness.  He trekked for many days in the cold fall with
his cloak wrapped tightly about him.  He plodded through forests, wadded
through piles of leaves up to his waist.  Searching,  Looking for
something.  He climbed mountains.  The cold cruel wind blowing at his
face,  But still he went on.  His food eventually ran out and the snow
had covered up anythign that might have been used as food.  He still
went on, looking.  Finally as he neared exhaustion he reached the top of
the highest peak.  And standing there was a man.
	He asked the man,"Why?"
	"It had to be done.  You have done well, now return to your family and rest."
	He returned to his home and went into his lovely house and held his
wife and told his children a story and sent them to bed.
	And he was happy.


ML5A@ANDREW.CMU.EDU
"I haven't failed I have discovered 10,000 ways not to make a lightbulb"
                                        -T Edison.

Newsgroups: alt.callahans