And so the croco-diamond began reading the story, though his
glasses had fallen off. Since croco-diamonds don’t have ears they can’t wear
glasses. And Marie had noticed that the glasses somewhat resembled the glasses
of the head mistress. She put her head down on her desk and hoped they weren’t
the head mistress’ glasses.
“One day, the man (“who claimed to want to watch the chrysalis
turn into a butterfly”, the croco-diamond added), noticed the chrysalis
struggling in its cocoon. It was trying to escape (“to be born as a butterfly,
we can presume, otherwise why leave the comfort and convenience of a cocoon –
the inside of a cocoon is soft and warm, like sleeping in cotton candy, if
cotton candy wasn’t sticky”). So the man wondered if he should he help the
chrysalis escape the cocoon.
I might add at this point, children, that helping people
obviously results in tragic consequences as related through the story of my
uncle and the button. Surely there is a moment of happiness when one sees a
butterfly emerge in all its glory, but really, should one help people? Because
we have no idea what’s in the cocoon. It could be a trick. In the cocoon there
could be a spider PRETENDING to be a butterfly. After all, this was just a
random cocoon the man found in the woods. And frankly, he doesn’t strike me as
being very bright.
I don’t like spiders at all. I remember once…”
“It’s a butterfly. It’s a STORY ABOUT A BUTTERFLY.”
Said Ms. Kaeli.
“If you insist.” Said the croco-diamond. “Well, there is also
the concern of disappointment. After all,
it may be a speckled wood butterfly that emerges from the cocoon. I don’t find
them particularly attractive. But I do admire colorful butterflies such as the
Rusty-tipped page, the Australian painted lady, the purple spotted swallowtail,
the blue morpho, the peacock...”
There was a noise from the back of the room, near the fish
tank, which sounded like Ms. Kaeli sneezing, except the sneeze, instead of
sounding like AH-CHOO, sounded like “quinoa snacks”.
“Carrying on,” said the croco-diamond nervously. “The man
decided to help the chrysalis from the cocoon. He was about to cut the cocoon
open, when, suddenly, a voice spoke:
DO NOT CUT THE COCOON! THE CHRYSALIS WILL BE INJURED! LEAVE IT ALONE!”
The croco-diamond picked his (or maybe the school mistress’s) glasses
up from where they had fallen on the floor. He held them in what he hoped was a
scholarly way, between two fingers.
“Now children, it appears this man, who steals cocoons and
does other bad things that we can only imagine, is now hearing voices in his
head. I must question whether this narrator is, what is the polite term? Crazy.
I once thought I heard a voice, which said “help me, help me!” But it turns out
it was my brother, who had crawled up the drainage pipe on the side of our
house, and, having just eaten a large meal of brussel sprouts, had gotten
himself stuck due to his tummy full of gas.
Well, we sent for the croco-doctor, who told my brother to
burp to release the air to shrink his stomach so that he might get out of the
pipe. The house began to rattle with each burp, as if a terrible storm was
happening. Or maybe an earthquake. Soon the shingles were falling off the roof
and the china cabinet almost…”
A quinoa snack splattered on the black board directly behind
the croco-diamond. None saw who threw it.
“Let’s see. I’ve lost my place.” Said the croco-diamond,
fumbling with the book anxiously. “Oh yes, “And so the man did not help the
chrysalis. He watched for days as the butterfly struggled to be born. It seemed
as if it would never succeed.
And then one day the man awoke to find a beautiful butterfly.”
The croco-diamond paused, set the book in his lap, absently
scratched his nose, and then said, “This is the worst story I’ve ever read. The
plot is quite boring. The narrator is at best crazy and likely imagining this
whole episode. Finding a cocoon in the woods? Preposterous! I can’t help but to
think of better books I’ve read, such as the poggly woggly adventure series,
book four in particular, where the poggly wogglys encounter a pirate ship made
of peanut butter and jelly that is set to attack! Thinking fast, they turn
their surf boards into a knife of sorts and gather all of the bread in their
village…”
There was a sound from the back of the room, as if someone was
covering her mouth and screaming. All turned and looked to the back of the
room.
“The pirates, as it turns out, were made from marshmallows and
were easily defeated by the poggly wogglys. I will now turn things back over to
Ms. Kaeli,” said the croco-diamond, who might have realized Ms. Kaeli was upset
about something. Though he couldn’t think what
might have upset her.
Ms. Kaeli was resting on the bean bags in the back of the
room, and appeared to be quite worn out although it was not even lunch time
yet.
“What do you think the
moral of the story is?” she asked the croco-diamond.
“The…moral?” asked the
croco-diamond.
“The lesson. What can we learn from the man who let the
chrysalis struggle to become a butterfly?”
“Well. First we can learn that if one hears a voice that
doesn’t seem to be coming from anywhere, and one doesn’t have a burping brother
caught in a drain pipe, that one is possibly crazy. And not as in ‘Johan goes crazy
and throws toys’ way. I mean certifiably mad.
Once in my village there was a man who went to Varenham’s Finest
Foods with three cats on his head. The cats were named Eenie, Meenie, and
Miney. The man would pretend he had gone to Varenham’s to buy pumpkins, even
though, I might add, it was NOT Halloween. And, I remember now, he had large
green galoshes, the old fashioned type with the hooks on the front, and he
would ask for…”
“Mr. Croco-diamond, please answer the question.”
“But I can’t because I feel faint just now, thinking about
those cats. One cat, Eenie, no, it was definitely Meenie, no, perhaps it was
Miney, used to ask the poor croco-didis “are you a member of the push in the
bush club?” The croco-didi would say “Why no, I am not a member of such a club
as you’ve mentioned. I’ve never heard of it.” Which, of course, would be the
polite thing to say. The cat, Eenie, Meenie, or Miney, I can’t remember, would
push the croco-didi into a bush! Why, the shrubbery in the whole town was being
destroyed!”
The croco-diamond fell, rather dramatically, to the floor,
curled into a ball, and said “Oh! You evil cats! Eenie, Meenie, and Miney!”
Marie raised her hand. “I think I know what the moral is.”
“Tell us.” Said Ms. Kaeli.
“The moral of the story is that sometimes you have to let
people struggle and not help them so they can become the person they are meant
to be. The chrysalis would not have become a beautiful butterfly if the man had
helped it.”
“PRECISELY WHAT I’VE SAID ALL ALONG!” declared the
croco-diamond, suddenly recovering from his remembrance of Eenie, Meenie, and
Miney and leaping to his feet from the floor. “One must never help people!
You’ll only fall into an abysm, be attacked by cats, and then the spiders will
come…”
“Croc,” said Marie. “Sometimes you are so ridiculous. Of
course you can help people. You just have to know when to help them.”
“Marie,” said the croco-diamond, “you are very wise. I have
learned something from you today. Now, how about a warm bowl of soup. I’m
positively famished!”
And so all the children ate soup, and didn’t have to eat
quinoa snacks, and the croco-diamond surprised everyone with fresh dragon fruit
for dessert. Though, some of the dragon fruit had lint on it from a ball of
yarn the croco-diamond had put in his picnic basket.
“I HAD to bring the yarn.” The croco-diamond explained. “One never knows when one may need some
emergency knitting.”
Johan was allowed to keep the croco-diamond’s bongos. The head
mistress retrieved her glasses (as it turns out, the croco-diamond had mistaken
them for his part of his secret agent disguise, which he found in his picnic
basket while retrieving the dragon fruit). And Ms. Kaeli said that the
croco-diamond could come back to school again, for story time.
After lunch Marie,
wrapped in the croco-diamond’s sash, fell asleep on the bean bags while the
croco-diamond picked up all the toys.
And he did it very quietly.
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