Parable of the Tools (help yourself to some scuppernong pie).

Once upon a time there was a toolbox in a cobwebby corner of a barn on a farm at the end of a dusty country road. Farmer Braun turned to carpentry after the last harvest and would chop and saw and play the fiddle until the day stretched into shadows of glowing cornstalks and Frau Braun called him for scuppernong pie and a slice of cheddar.

Well, the tools in that toolbox hadn’t been used since last spring, and as the last harvest was nearing, Screwdriver got an idea.

“We’re just sitting here waiting,” said Screwdriver. “If we’re not in shape after harvest, we might get replaced by the electric tools.

“Hammer,” Screwdriver continued, “you have to learn how to do more than hammering. C’mon, you weigh 16 ounces. You’re bigger than any of us here. You have to pull more weight.

“Wrench, you can drive small nails, right? That'll free up Hammer for the big jobs.

“Pliers, you can turn small bolts, right? That’ll free up Wrench for the big jobs.

“And Saw…. Saw, what am I gonna do with you? What’s with just cutting? Well, you are kinda outa shape for doing much else. Okay, you just worry about cutting. But be sharp about it.

“Now, when Farmer Braun comes back, we’ll all be ready to show him we have as much to offer as any electric tool.”

Hammer and Wrench and Pliers protested, “Who made you boss? What do you know about hammering and wrenching and plying?”

But Saw was quite satisfied that he was allowed to continue sawing, and Farmer Braun did come back, and put all the old tools to work. And once in a while, when work was done and the day stretched into shadows of glowing cornstalks, you could sometimes hear Saw singing with Bow when Fiddle was resting in that barn at the end of a dusty country road.

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Clarence comments:

Some people aren’t thinking if they're not talking. That's okay, they have to be verbally engaged and there's nothing wrong with that. On the other hand, some people don't talk when they think. That’s okay too. I'm a writer. I think with my fingers. If I have something to say, I will either write it with my fingers, or write it in my head and then share it when other's have stopped talking.

When you're a saw surrounded by screwdrivers, you sometimes feel like you should have been born a screwdriver but by some terrible mistake at the tool factory, you came out toothy and two-dimensional.

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I’m very pleased with some of this short story.

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Yes, Jesus was a carpenter. I didn’t think of that until I’d finished the story. The idea didn’t originally have a religious subtext, but as all good stories do, it found itself.

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Good stories are like petits fours.

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How to Play the Musical Saw

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[2014-01-28]