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Somalian Bedtime Stories

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Once upon a time in a far away village called New Mogadishu there was a fisherman who liked to invent exciting contraptions in his spare time.

Everyday he would walk to the coast and catch "fish" for his Warlord and at night he would go home and work on his inventions in his workshop. None of his inventions were very good and some were even down right dangerous.

Most of the other fishermen in the village thought he was crazy but he didn't care. Inventing made him happy and the Warlord found his disasterous inventions entertaining so he was allowed to continue.

One day while he was "fishing" he noticed the birds soaring through the sky and decided he wanted to fly.

"I am going to invent some wings," the fisherman told his Warlord.

"Now I really know you're crazy. You won't even get off the ground," said the Warlord.

"You'll see," said the fisherman.

So he went to his workshop and began working. Every night he toiled away. No one saw the fisherman for weeks. Then one day he came out of his workshop with a great big grin on his face.

He went to the Warlord, "Tomorrow I will fly, but I need your help," said the fisherman.

"Did you really build some wings?" asked the Warlord.

"Yes and they are magnificent," he said proudly. "They're a little heavy though. I need help dragging them up to the top of the tallest hill in the land."

"What did you make them out of?" asked the Warlord who was curious as to why so many people would be needed to carry wings.

"I made them out of some scrap metal that washed up on the shore one day," said the fisherman.

"Metal? Don't you think that will be too heavy to use for wings?" asked the Warlord.

"No, I calculated all of the angles. I will be like a human bird," said the fisherman.

The Warlord just rolled his eyes and laughed. "Ok, we will gather the other men in the village and in the morning you will try them out.

The next morning all the men gathered together and dragged the wings up to the top of the highest hill in the land and the fisherman strapped them on.

"Are you sure those are not too heavy? asked the Warlord again.

"No, the faster I run, the lighter they will get. The wind will lift me up and I will be flying," said the fisherman quite confidently.

"All right, I am going to get a running start and take off." So the fisherman backed up and started running. As he ran, the weight of the wings started to wear out his legs and he got lower and lower to the ground. Just as he got to the crest of the hill, his legs gave out and he skidded across the ground on his face.

The Warlord and the other fishermen of the village thought it was so funny they fell down and rolled on the ground laughing. When the Warlord finally composed himself again he got up and asked the fisherman if he was okay.

"Yes, Yes, real funny," said the fisherman. "I guess you may be right they are a little heavy, but I know the shape is just right. I will go back to the workshop and make them out of another material. Something lighter!"

A couple of weeks later the fisherman came back to the Warlord.

"I've done it," said the fisherman.

"You've done what?" asked the Warlord.

"I fixed the wings. I made them out of paper. These things are much lighter I may get going by simply jumping off the roof. Come to my house tomorrow and see. I need a witness and Who could be more trust-worthy than you, mighty Warlord." Finding no fault to this logic the Warlord agreed.

When the Warlord arrived the next day, the fisherman was already up on the roof with these hilarious looking paper wings.

"So you think you're just going to jump off and fly?" asked the Warlord who tried not to chuckle.

"Yeah! Here goes," said the fisherman.

He backed up a little and took a quick dash and a jump.

Aaaaaaaaaaagh, SMACK! The wings tore right off and the fisherman landed on his head in the middle of some bushes next to the house.

Again the Warlord fell down and rolled around on the ground from laughing so hard. When he finally got back up he asked the fisherman if he was okay.

"Yes, Yes, real funny," said the fisherman. "I guess they may have been a little to light, but I know the shape is just right. I will go back to the workshop and make them out of another material. Something not as heavy as the scrap metal and not as light as paper."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," said the Warlord. looking forward to another laugh.

A couple of weeks later the fisherman came to the Warlord.

"I've really done it this time," said the fisherman.

"You've done what?" asked the Warlord.

"I fixed the wings. I made them out of wax and feathers. These things look just like bird's wings. Meet me tomorrow at the tallest cliff in the land and I will try again," said the fisherman.

When the Warlord arrived, he saw the wings. They did look good!

"I had to chase many chickens and pluck many feathers to make these wings," he said proudly. "But I need you to help me strap them on," said the fisherman.

The Warlord was looking forward to having another laugh so he helped the fisherman strap on the wings. They fit real snug. There was a handle under each wing out near the tip for the fisherman to use to move the wings up and down and a belt that went around his waste so that they would not fall off.

"Here we go," yelled the fisherman as he backed up and began running towards the edge of the cliff.

He didn't slow down and just as he got to the edge, he started to lift up into the air. He was flying!

"YAHOOO, SDS FOR LIFE," yelled the fisherman as the Warlord watched from the ground in disbelief.

The fisherman flew and flew just laughing and hooting. He flew higher and higher. He was really getting high now, and he started to worry. "How do I land these things?" he asked himself.

That question was soon answered.

The Warlord was so excited to see the fisherman flying and so overcome with pride at hearing the man shout such a tribute that he shot his gun into the air over and over again.

All of a sudden, the fisherman noticed that the warmth of the sun was causing his wings to become soft and melt... and that the bullets the Warlord was shooting into the air were hitting the wings and getting stuck in the wax, making them heavier and heavier!

Pretty soon he had little tiny heavy wings full of bullets with hardly any feathers left and he was flying very fast down toward the water below.

"Boy this is going hurt again," said the fisherman to himself as he crashed to his death.

To this day, whenever someone asks what happened to the fisherman, the wise Warlord will only laugh and smile then say, "SDS for life."

The end.

Reworked from Lenny the Flying Inventor by Jeff Smith

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Guest MARTiN

Actually, this is wrong. The warlord has made everything, but in the story it clearly says that the fisherman made the wings? im not so sure how to feel about it..

j/k j/k i kid i kid, dont worry, this was pretty good :D

This actually sounds like something we/i/daheb/fackmos would do if this was possible.

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  • Emerald

ah kharmasutra your writings never cease to amaze me!

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Beautiful, Is this copyrighted?

Lenny the Flying Inventor

By Jeff Smith

I was recently captured by SDS and made to tell them bedtime stories to save myself. (Reworked Goldilocks and the three bears to Goldilocks to Goldilocks and the three Somalians which I will post later.) I plan on taking a bunch of popular children's stories and reworking them to represent the Somalians so that I am better prepared next time to give a good tribute.

Will remember to post who original stories are by. Thanks.

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