from my sister's blog (also from James Thurber). A real fave of my mom's & mine when I was a kid. Pretty much the story of my life, as well.
*sigh* Jeez, I miss my mom and dad.
LATER:
I'll just throw this in here, as no one will ever see it in the comments (not that vast multitudes will see it here):
The Little Girl and the Wolf
by James Thurber
One afternoon a big wolf waited in a dark forest for a little girl to come along carrying a basket of food to her grandmother. Finally a little girl did come along and she was carrying a basket of food. "Are you carrying that basket to your grandmother?" asked the wolf. The little girl said yes, she was. So the wolf asked her where her grandmother lived and the little girl told him and he disappeared into the wood.
When the little girl opened the door of her grandmother's house she saw that there was somebody in bed with a nightcap and nightgown on. She had approached no nearer than twenty-five feet from the bed when she saw that it was not her grandmother but the wolf, for even in a nightcap a wolf does not look any more like your grandmother than the Metro-Goldwyn lion looks like Calvin Coolidge. So the little girl took an automatic out of her basket and shot the wolf dead.
(Moral: It is not so easy to fool little girls nowadays as it used to be.)
(LOLkitty courtesy of Cheezburger)
7 comments:
What's the one where he describes his grandmother's fear that electricity was leaking out of empty sockets all over the house? I've never forgotten it.
When I encountered Thurber as an adult, I realized he was MUCH darker than I realized.
I can't remember which one was the 'lectricity -- It's a great one; one of the longer tales, I think.
Here's another favorite:
The Unicorn In The Garden
Also:
The Bear Who Let It Alone
One more:
The Little Girl And The Wolf
"Moral: It is not so easy to fool little girls nowadays as it used to be."
Ain't it the truth.
I echo your sentiments – the disenchantment and the missing. Still, you made my day. ... Never read a Thurber story online – until now.
Mmmm...breakfast with Thurber.
She had approached no nearer than twenty-five feet from the bed when she saw that it was not her grandmother but the wolf, for even in a nightcap a wolf does not look any more like your grandmother than the Metro-Goldwyn lion looks like Calvin Coolidge. So the little girl took an automatic out of her basket and shot the wolf dead.
I've read that hundreds of times, and it STILL CRACKS ME UP.
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