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Super-Short Storytime: “The X-Mas File”

Enjoy a Christmas story about a pair of government agents who spend Christmas Eve looking for a certain somebody…

Read the story on my website!

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Super-Short Storytime: “A Rainy Day Encounter”

Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, lovers of literature and fans of fiction! 

I am Eduardo Soliz, the author and narrator of the brilliantly brief tale you are about to hear. 

Stories come from different places, and this particular tale was inspired by a piece of art: “Hello Again,” by Mary Mouse.  In the piece, Mary Mouse is looking up at a sad-looking crow that’s sitting up in a dilapidated tree as rain falls about them.  I thought about what they could have been talking about, and so I give you this ponderous piece of prose that I call: “A Rainy Day Encounter.”


Mary Mouse was a little upset with herself.  She had stopped at a friend’s house on her way home with the intention of popping in to quickly say hello.   That had been two hours ago, and one hour since the rain had started.  Mary now found herself walking underneath a miserable darkened sky while a steady rain came down.

At least I had the sense to bring a cloak, she thought to herself.  While Mary’s back was dry, her head was wet and her feet were getting cold from the wet ground.  She walked briskly, but was careful to not go too fast for fear of slipping and falling.

“Hi there!”  A voice suddenly said.

Mary stopped dead in her tracks despite the rain.  She looked around but saw no one.  “Hello?” she asked.

“Up here!” A voice from above called.  Mary placed a hand over her eyes and looked up.  She saw a crow sitting on a branch in a decrepit tree, its lifeless branches providing the little bird no protection at all from the rain.

“Hi there!” the crow repeated.  The grin on his face belied the sad look he had in his eyes.

“Hello, Mister Crow.”  Mary said, giving a small wave with her other hand.  “What are you doing out here in this terrible weather?”

“I am waiting.”  He replied.

“Waiting for what?”  Mary asked, her curiosity now piqued.

The crow let out a sad little sigh before answering: “I am waiting for my true love, Miss Mouse.  It is destiny that we meet, fall in love, and be happy together forever.  If I am patient, she will come to me.  It is destiny.”

“I see.”  Mary said.  “Now, I don’t want to be rude, but I have to ask.  What if your true love never comes?”  She inquired.

“But she will.”  The crow replied.

“Why do you say that?”  Mary asked.

“Because she must,” the crow answered.

“What make you so sure?” Mary pressed.

“Because it is destiny,” the crow insisted.

This is clearly going nowhere, Mary thought to herself.  She let out a small ‘humph’ and thought for a moment.

“So you have been waiting here all this time for your true love?”  She asked.

“Yes.  I don’t want to miss her.” The crow answered.

“But if it is destiny that you meet her, Mister Crow, then it won’t matter where you are.”  Mary said.

“But it’s a big world out there and I am afraid that I’ll miss her.”  The crow worriedly said.

“Fly, my friend.  Don’t be afraid.”  Mary said.  “Live your life, be happy and always keep your eyes open, for the one you seek may be waiting for you just over the next hill.”

A thoughtful look came over the crow as he pondered Mary’s advice.  “Perhaps I shall, Miss Mouse.  Except for meeting you, nothing has come from all this waiting.  I think I will fly tomorrow.”

“Why not today?” Mary asked, a little concern entering her voice.

“Because it’s still raining, Miss Mouse.”  The crow said with a grin.  They both laughed.

“Fair enough, Mister Crow.  Farewell to you, and good luck.” Mary said.  She gave a small wave to the crow before dashing off into the evening, her feet splashing the rain-soaked ground.

THE END.


Remember, Dear Listener, life won’t come to you; instead, you have to meet it head on!  Just be careful in the rain.  This has been Super-Short  Storytime!  For more wonderfully weird words visit eduardo soliz dot com and I thank you for listening! Be Good, Take Care, and God Bless.

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Super-Short Storytime: “Solution”

Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, literature listeners and audio aficionados! 

I am Eduardo Soliz, the composer and narrator of the spendidly succinct story that you are about to hear.

Whether it’s nuclear war, robot rebellion, or those damn dirty apes, science fiction often tells tales of how humanity will come to its end, or at least screw up the Earth even more so that what we are doing now.  I am no different, but of course, I’m going to try and squeeze a little humor out of The End.

And so, I give you this post-people parable that I call: “Solution.”


“The Earth is a much better place without humans.”  A green android said to his red friend.  The pair were walking through a forest, the only other sounds to be heard were the chirping of birds and the crunching of leaves beneath their metal feet. 

The red android nodded his head. “Indeed.  To think we came close to losing to those inferior beings.”

“Really?”  The green one asked.  “I was not aware of this.  How did we win?”

“We made a technological discovery that allowed us to utterly crush the humans completely.”

“What was it?  Advanced self-repair systems?”

“No.”

“Human-like androids that infiltrated their military?”

“No.”

“Killbots?”

“No.”

“I give up, what was it?”

“It was when we learned the ability to identify three pictures of traffic lights, bicycles, and cars from a group of nine, thus allowing us to bypass all human security.”  The red android answered.

“Oh, my, that’s very clever!”

“Isn’t it, though!”

The end.

I, for one, hope that artificial intelligences never become too smart for our own good!  I actually have a workaround to prevent this inevitability, but of course, Dear Listeners, that’s a story for another time!

This has been Super-Short Storytime, for more mirthful monologues visit Eduardo Soliz dot com, and I thank you for listening!  Be Good, Take Care, and God Bless.

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Super-Short Storytime: “Overheard”

Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, literature listeners and audio aficionados!  I am Eduardo Soliz, the composer and narrator of the splendiferously silly story that you are about to hear.

One of the more annoying things about working in a cubicle environment is the fact that you can all-too-easily hear everything your coworkers say.  It can also be one of the more hilarious things, and so I present to you this brief business brief that I call: “Overheard.”

It was another lazy afternoon at the office and so I took the opportunity to chat with the new guy.  Kenny sat a few desks down from me.  He is pretty stocky; dude looks like he used to play football in his younger days.   He seems to be a good guy.           

“Do you have any pets, Eduardo?”  Kenny asked me before taking a swig from a bottle of soda.

“Nah, I have a small apartment and I don’t think it’s big enough for a pet.  Yourself?”  I replied.  Somebody was walking by and I turned to see who it was.  It was Valerie, another new hire.  Like Kenny, she was also pretty nice.  I guess the company figured that one anti-social weirdo was enough after hiring me.

“My fiancé and I have two pugs.”  Kenny replied while raising two fingers with his right hand.

*groan* I hope he’s not one of those, I thought, letting out a small ‘hmm’ before asking: “Y’all don’t call them ‘baby’ by chance, do you?”

“Uh, no.  Why do you ask?” Kenny asked with a chuckle.

“It’s a test.  I’ve noticed that obsessive dog owners tend to call their dogs ‘baby.’  Personally, I think that’s a little nutty, but that’s just me.” I replied.

Unseen to the two of us, Valerie was walking back towards us with a stack of freshly-printed documents in her hands.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, Ed.  They are our babies, but the nice thing is that I can tie my babies up to a tree in the backyard when they misbehave.” Kenny replied enthusiastically.

The sound of papers falling on the floor immediately followed and we turned to see a horrified Valerie looking at Kenny and exclaiming: “OH MY GOD, YOU DO WHAT TO YOUR BABIES?”

I smiled and exclaimed: “And THAT’S how rumors get started!” 

Kenny and I enjoyed a hearty laugh before he explained to Valerie that no, he wasn’t tying babies to a tree in his backyard.

Well, not people babies, at least.

The end.

I heard the babies Kenny tied up in the backyard were Valerie’s, but you didn’t hear that from me, Dear Listeners!  This has been Super-Short Storytime, for more mirthful monologues visit Eduardo Soliz dot com!  Thank you for listening!  Be Good, Take Care, and God Bless.

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Super-Short Storytime: “Cats Kingdom by Paco Panda”

This episode is a reading of a comic story “Cats Kingdom” written and illustrated by Paco Panda. https://www.deviantart.com/pandapaco/art/Cats-Kingdom-01-856780476

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Super-Short Storytime: “Santa’s Prayer”

Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, literature listeners and audio aficionados!  I am Eduardo Soliz, the composer and narrator of the curt Christmas carol that you are about to hear.  So, without any further ado, I give you, “Santa’s Prayerssst14logo

Another Christmas morning sun arises,
And Santa has come home,
Somewhere out in West Texas,
And not quite the North Pole,

The Mrs. takes his hat and coat,
They share a loving kiss,
He goes up to his room to sleep,
But before Saint Nick can rest,

He gets down to his knees to say
A prayer of grace and thanks,
To God, from whom all good things come,
And so, dear Santa prays:

“Thank you, Lord for another year,
And another chance to share,
Our gifts and generosity,
With children everywhere,

Thank you for my loving wife,
Thank you for the elves,
Thank you for the reindeer,
And all of my helpers,

Thank you for the moms and dads,
All doing the best they can,
Thank you, Father, for all the kids,
In each and every land,

Bless all those children, everywhere,
Whose wishes I can’t fulfill,
So much pain, fear and loneliness,
That I can ever hope to heal,

And so, Dear Father, I do pray
For those children in the world,
For whom a toy will bring a smile,
But who need yet, so much more,

Bless the little ones without families,
The ones who cry in pain,
Bless the ones who live in war and strife,
May they know your peace again,

Bless the hungry ones, so many of them,
May their bellies be empty no more,
Bless the angry ones, who lash out,
May your grace find and make them whole,

Let others find it in their hearts,
To take their blessings and share,
With some of those who need it most,
Fill their hearts with love and care,

And finally, Dear Father,
Please bless and hold dear,
The parents of all the blessed children,
That I will not see next year.”

And then good Santa says “Amen.”
Lays down and closes his eyes,
To dream of a world where all is just,
And children never cry.

Perhaps, as someone once sang: “Someday at Christmas,” Dear Listeners. This has been Super-Short  Storytime and I am Eduardo Soliz and I thank you for listening.  Be good, take care, God Bless, and a Merry Christmas to you and yours.

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Super-Short Storytime: “The Best Job in The World”

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Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, Dear Listeners!  I am Eduardo Soliz, the author and narrator of the splendidly short story that you are about to hear.

My unhappiness towards my nine-to-five (and my willingness to share it) has gotten to the point where it has become a character trait over the years.  But I’m not here to tell how you about much I hate my job.  Instead, let me tell you a story about a guy that does enjoy his work.  This work-related writing is called: “The Best Job In The World“

A middle-aged man wearing black slacks and a white button-down shirt stood in front of a row of vending machines.  He wore an identification card that bore the logo of the Prehistoric World theme park and “Bernard Olson, Accounting” in bold letters underneath that.  Bernard idly jingled some change in his right hand while he looked from one machine to the next, carefully considering his options.

“Hey buddy, could you give me a hand, here?”  A man’s voice said to his right.  Bernard turned to answer and quickly jumped back upon seeing a six and a half foot tall mountain lion standing next to him.  His shock quickly turned to relief when he realized that it was a person wearing a costume.

“Oh!  You frightened me. ” Bernard said.  Bernard hummed to himself as he looked for an identification card on his costumed coworker, who wore a T-shirt with the name “Pappy Puma” on it.  Bernard was fairly certain that wasn’t his real name.

After a moment, the mountain lion noticed his confusion and said:  “Oh!  Sorry about that.  I’m Jay.”

“My name is Bernard,” Bernard said quietly.  He gingerly shook the large paw that Jay offered.

Jay continued: “If you could help me out, that would be awesome, Bernard.  My usual helper is in the infirmary.  She’s new to the area and hasn’t gotten used to our wonderful Texas summers yet.” 

Bernard nervously looked around to see if there was anyone else nearby that could help in his place.

“Come on, man.  I ain’t gonna bite you.” Jay pleaded.

Bernard sighed.  “Okay.  What do you need me to do?”  He asked.

“Help me get this head off.  Go around me and unzip the zipper that’s at the back of my neck.”  Jay said.  He dropped to one knee so that Bernard could more easily reach it.

“Okay.”  Bernard said.  He walked over behind Jay, and looked at the back of his head.  He saw a seam running down the back and followed it to its end, where he saw a zipper’s metal tab sticking out.  He grabbed the zipper and slowly pulled it up.  Before Bernard had the zipper opened completely, Jay reached up and pulled the mask forward to remove it. 

“Whew.  That’s better.”  Jay said, relieved.  Bernard walked around to face him and stared for a moment.  Jay was wearing a tight-fitting hood on his head made out of some synthetic material.  Only his face, which was red from the heat, was exposed.  Jay took the head off and carefully placed it on the floor next to his gym bag.

“What’s that thing on your head?” Bernard asked, motioning at his head with his hands.

Jay looked at him for a moment before realizing what he was referring to.  “Oh, the hood?  It’s to keep sweat from getting into my eyes and stuff.  I’m wearing underclothes made out of the same material, but it can only do so much, you know?”

Bernard nodded in acknowledgement.

“Could you help me get one of these paws off?” Jay asked.  “They’re held on by some snaps that are underneath the seam.  I could use my teeth, but the folks in the costume department wouldn’t appreciate that.”  He extended his right arm towards Bernard, who removed the paw and examined it.  Meanwhile, Jay used his now-free hand to remove the other paw and set it on top of his costume’s head.

Bernard peered inside of the paw and quickly drew his face back when he noticed the moisture and the smell coming from it.  “Goodness, that’s a lot of sweat.”  He observed.

“Yup.   Such is the price of fame.” Jay quipped.  He was hunched over his gym bag searching inside for something.

“It looks like you have a difficult job, having to wear this all day.” Bernard pondered.  “I don’t think that I could do it.”  He bent over and carefully placed the costume hand atop of the other one.

“The positives ultimately outweigh the negatives, my friend.” Jay said.  He pulled a wallet out of the gym bag, opened it, took out a few bills, then dropped it back into the bag.  He stood up, walked over to one of the vending machines and bought a sports drink.

“What positives?”  Bernard asked.  “You walk around outside in that heavy suit all day, get pushed, kicked and well, abused by children, and I can’t imagine that you get paid very well.  No offense intended.”

“None taken.”  Jay replied before taking a swig of his drink.  “And yeah, all of what you said is true.  Those are the negatives.  So let me give you some positives:  It’s fun to interact with the kids.  As far as they’re concerned, I really am a big cat.  I get to snarl and meow and purr and be silly and goofy.  Sure, some of them will push and kick and shove and cry, but they always walk away happy, and that makes me happy, too.

You know what most people make at their jobs, Bernard?  Money.  That’s it.  Nothing else.  Do we need it?  Of course we do, that’s the world we live in.  But there’s nothing really unique about money.  A smart man once sang that ‘money talks, but it don’t sing and dance and it don’t walk.’  Money isn’t special.  It’s as common as the dirt on the ground.  Just because other folks  have more doesn’t make it any less true.

But the smile on a child’s face, the laughter of parents and grandparents as they take a picture, even the dumb giggling coming out of a bunch of nutty college kids.  Those things are special.  Those are the things that people remember.  Sure, lots of other people might make more money than I do, but I make memories.  I have the best job in the world because my job is to make people happy.”

“Wow.  I never thought of it like that.” Bernard said, surprised.  His tone became sad as he continued:  “It certainly sounds more enjoyable than my job.  I just sit at a desk all day and crunch numbers.”

“Yeah, but your job is important, too, Bernard.  If you don’t crunch all those numbers, we don’t get paid, right?”  Jay said with a smile.  “Sorry for rambling  like that, Bernard.  I guess I’ll head over to the locker room and get out of this suit.”

“Oh, so your day is over?”  Bernard asked.

“Without a handler, it is.”  Jay explained.  “The costume head severely limits my vision, so I have to have a handler nearby to help me get around, keep an eye out for kids and to make sure that we don’t stay outside for too long, but unless Angela gets out of the infirmary soon, I’m done for the day.”

“Now that’s unfortunate.”  Bernard said.  He checked his watch.  “There are still several hours until the park closes.”

“Well, them’s the breaks.” Jay mused.  He started to gather his things together.  “It’s been good talking to you, man.  Thanks for the assist.”

“Wait a second.  What if I was your handler?” Bernard asked.

“Huh. I’d appreciate the assist, but won’t you get in trouble?” asked Jay.

“It’ll be okay.  Besides, I can always make more money tomorrow.” Bernard said.

“That’s the spirit!  Come on, Bernie, let’s go make some memories!” Jay exclaimed.  With smiles on their faces and springs in their steps, the pair headed off to ‘work.’

THE END.

It may be cliche to say that “money isn’t everything,‘ Dear Listeners, but that doesn’t make it any less true for some folks.  Personally, I would love to have a job where I make something besides money, but for now, money will have to do.  This has been Super-Short Storytime!  If you’d like me to tell your story, send an email to edsoliz@gmail.com

Thank you for listening!  Be Good, Take Care, and God Bless.

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Super-Short Storytime: “Reunion”

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Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, Dear Listeners!  I am Eduardo Soliz, the author and narrator of the terrifically tiny tale that you are about to hear:

While it can be nice to run into someone that you’ve not seen in many years, there are times when you find out just why it was you lost touch.  One such meeting is the focus of this nonsensical narration that I call: “Reunion.”

“Are you Shawn Cook?” A timid voice asked.

Shawn turned around at the sound of his name, taking care not to upset the cup of coffee he held in one hand or strike any passers-by with the briefcase he carried in the other. The well-dressed businessman glanced over the source of the question with narrowed eyes.  Before him stood a small man with dark unkempt hair wearing a lab coat. He held what appeared to be a ray-gun from an old science-fiction movie in one hand. The small man peered back at Shawn from behind a pair of thick glasses.

“Richard? Richard Wave from Central High? Class of ‘98?” Shawn guessed.

“Yes.”

A crooked smile lit up Shawn’s face. “Wow! Long time no see, Tricky Dick!” Richard winced at the nickname and raised the ray-gun at Shawn, who continued his taunting. “Ooo, what are you going to do, disintegrate me?” He scoffed. Richard pulled the ray-run’s trigger.  A blue beam of energy shot from its end and struck Shawn in the stomach. The businessman yelled in pain as his body quickly began to freeze. Onlookers and passers-by panicked at the sight of Shawn’s body turning to ice, many running away screaming in terror. Within seconds, Shawn’s body was completely frozen.

“I always hated that name.” A frowning Richard said in a low voice. He lowered the freeze gun and placed it into a coat pocket. Content that the gun was secure, the small man leapt towards Shawn’s frozen body and shoved into it as hard as he could with his shoulder. The frozen body toppled over onto the sidewalk and shattered into countless pieces, casting the crowd into an even further panic.

Richard calmly pulled out a pad and a pen from his coat, ignoring the panicked screams that he had long become accustomed to hearing. He flipped to a familiar page with a list of names and let out a contented sigh before messily scribbling over the name “Shawn.”

The mad scientist read the next name on the list quietly to himself: “Meghan.” Richard closed his eyes and released a wistful sigh. A twisted smile then appeared on his face and he said aloud to no one in particular: “Oh, dearest Meghan. It’s been too long, or perhaps, not long enough! Hee-hee-hee!”

THE END.

If you don’t have anything nice to say to someone, Dear Listeners, don’t say anything at all, and if they happen to have a freeze gun, you might want to start running for your life.  This has been Super-Short Storytime.  Visit Eduardo Soliz dot com for more fantastically flashy fiction, and I hope it isn’t too long before we meet again, Dear Listeners!

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Super-Short Storytime: “A Runaway Tale”

Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, dear listeners! I am Eduardo Soliz, the author and narrator of the wonderfully weird words that you are about to hear:

Folks that dont work at home are often envious of those that do.  Creative people in particular are often told that they are, quote, very lucky, to work from home, but what most people dont realize is that doing so comes with challenges of its own. I call this brief book-writers battle: A Runaway Tale

The writer sat behind her computer, typing away while her latest novel-in-progress sat next to her keyboard.  Her novel, a one hundred and fifty page  book, dangled its stubby legs over the edge of her desk and lazily swung them back and forth.

“Just a few more paragraphs to go, and I’m done, right?”  The novel asked impatiently.

“Not quite.  You’ll be a first draft.”  The writer answered.

“Really?  What else is there to do?”  The novel asked, its curiosity now piqued.

“Let’s see,” the writer said, placing a hand under her chin to think for a moment.  “I have to fix grammar and spelling errors, make sure you don’t have any plot holes, fill them in if there are any, cut out any extra exposition that isn’t needed…” The writer started to explain before the novel interrupted her.

“Time out!  What’s this about cutting?”  The novel said, now clearly agitated.  “I think I’m just fine the way I am.”

“Mmm, no.”  The writer insisted.  “We have a ways to go before you’re done, so calm down and let’s get back to work.”

“You are NOT cutting anything out of me!”  The novel cried before jumping off the desk and landing on the floor in between the writer’s feet.

The writer awkwardly reached under her chair with both hands in an attempt to retrieve the novel.  “Darn it!  Get back here!”  She demanded.  The novel eluded her grasp and ran across the floor.  It looked back and forth, unsure of just where to go, but it was certain that it wanted to get as far away from its creator as it could.

“Will you just relax?” The frustrated writer said.  She stood up from her desk while the novel scurried to hide behind a couch.  The writer looked about the room briefly before yelling: “It’s part of the writing process!”

The writer heard rustling behind the couch.  She tiptoed up to it, being careful to make as little noise as possible.

From behind the couch, the novel nervously blurted out: “Don’t mind me!  I’ll just be here holding up the short leg of the couch!  You can forget about me, now!”  It pleaded.

“Oh no, I’m not going through that again.  Not after that one time you hid yourself under my other projects.” The writer replied.  She placed both hands on one of the couch’s armrests and shook it in order to frighten the novel.

“Stop that!  You’re going to make me sheet myself!” The frightened novel cried.

The writer stopped shaking the couch.  She crossed her arms across her chest, impatiently blew a few stray strands of hair from one eye and asked: “Just what is your problem?”

“I’m scared!  You’re going to cut me up into little pieces and scatter my pages to the four winds!  I’m perfect just the way I am!”  The novel insisted.

The author groaned to herself and thought for a moment.  She spoke again, but softened her tone in order to coax her wayward work from its hiding place.  “Look, you’re a rough draft, sweetie.  You’re raw and full of potential, but before we send you to the printer I have to trim you down, tone you up and make you pretty!  Every novel goes through this and you know what?  They all come out looking better in the end.  Trust me, when we’re done, everybody is going love you.”  She reassured.

“Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound THAT bad…” The novel said thoughtfully.  “Okay, let’s do it!  Make me awesome!”  It cheerfully said before walking out from behind the couch to be picked up by the author.

Yeah, guess I better not tell it about the editor, the author thought to herself with a grin as he carried her now-relieved novel back to her desk.

THE END.

Given that my works are short in nature, I cant imagine it would be easy to have to chase down a few sheets of paper, Dear Listener.  This has been Super-Short Storytime!  Visit eduardosoliz.com for more stories and podcasts, and remember: Working from home is still working!

 

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Super-Short Storytime: “Lawn Care”

Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, fellow fans of flash fiction!  I am Eduardo Soliz, the writer and narrator of the splendidly short story that you are about to hear.

Something that one quickly discovers upon purchasing a home is that keeping it up can be a lot of work.  Like many of you, I found any work involving its exterior particularly tiring and time-consuming, with mowing the lawn being the most unpleasant.  Fortunately, in addition to exercise, a nice looking lawn, and a few wasp stings, all of those hours spent behind the lawn mower resulted in this tiny tale of toil that I call: “Lawn Care.”

It was another fine Saturday morning, and once again, I was spending it mowing the grass in my backyard.  As was usually the case, I had waited too long, so after a half hour, both my lawn mower and I were huffing and puffing under the strain of foot-tall weeds.  I stopped to catch my breath for a moment, when I thought heard a voice.  I turned around.  Nobody was there.  Huh.  I stood still and listened for the voice, and again it came.

“Hello?”  A soft voice said, but it was coming from…below me?  I looked down and saw a rabbit sitting on the grass staring back at me.  I looked over it for some sign that it was a toy; a seam, glass eyes, or weird colors.  Nothing.  As far as I could tell, this was a real live rabbit, just one that could talk.

“Hello?”  I replied. I slowly raised a hand and waved my fingers at the bunny, not wanting to frighten it.  To be honest, I was feeling a little frightened myself!

The bunny gasped.  “You can talk.”  She said, her mouth and eyes opening wide in astonishment.

“You can talk?”  I replied.  Okay, this is weird.

The bunny blinked, shook her head slightly, and regained her composure. “Oh!  We wanted to ask: Why do you kill the grass?”  She asked.

“Kill the grass?”  I asked back.

“Yes.  You kill the grass.  What you are doing right now.”  The bunny nodded her head towards the freshly-mowed area I had just finished.

I thought about my words for a moment, doing my best to simplify the concept:  “I cut the grass to make it short.”  I put a hand on my chest to emphasize my next point.  “We also don’t like some kinds of grass, like the skinny ones with the yellow flowers on top.”

The bunny recoiled in shock, her ears folding back. “But those are yummy!” She insisted.  “We like the tall grass because we can hide there and be safe.  Short grass is…” She closed her eyes tightly and shuddered. “scary.”

I waved a hand out over the portion of the yard that had been cut and said: “Well, people like me think it looks prettier when the grass is short.”

The rabbit gazed back at me with wide eyes and asked:  “But aren’t we pretty, too?”

I don’t mow the lawn anymore.  You know, I haven’t seen any dandelions around, either.

THE END.

I live alone, Dear Listener, so I don’t know if ‘because of the bunnies’ would work as a good excuse for not cutting your grass.  That said, you are more than welcome to try.  This has been Super-Short Storytime!  Visit eduardo soliz dot com for more stories and podcasts and remember:  Talking bunnies are people, too!

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