A flake's tale.

Once upon a time there was a tiny drop of water that wanted to become a snowflake. 

"Oh, what a joy to be a snowflake!" it said. "I will drift gently from the sky and join with my brethren to become a snowstorm. And we will become one with the happiness of winter. Perhaps I will become part of a jolly snowman, or a sturdy snow fort, or even a dashing snowball! I can't wait!"

The winter came; the air grew cold, and the bit of water went up into a cloud and froze into a snowflake, as it had hoped. 

"Looking good!" it said, admiring its sharp, hexagonal pattern and gleaming white appearance. "Now to make for land!"

"Hold on," said the cloud, "don't be in such a rush. There are people down there who are trying to get to work, old folks with no one to shovel for them, kids on the way to school, ambulances and delivery men and all kinds of people who will be in grave trouble from a sudden storm. You should all disperse gently, in teams, over a period of time."

"Nuts to that!" said the snowflake. "C'mon, guys! Let's PAR-TAY!"

So the little snowflake led an enormous charge of snowflakes that swamped the town, causing a picturesque layer of slippery stuff that caused people to fall, breaking various coccyxes, and crash their cars and trucks, and have heart attacks shoveling, and see their gazebos collapse. 

Did the snowflake get to earth? Yes, but it got stuck on a roof, where it could not be made part of anything cool. It just had to hang around on the shingles until it melted. 

"Aw, this blows," the snowflake said bitterly. "Any chance of leaking into the house?"

"Bob said they're doing it on the north side, but not over here," said another flake. 

"Crap. Well, here comes the sun. I'm gonna skedaddle."

"What will you do?"

"I'm going to melt off that gutter and become an icicle. Maybe I can fall off and hit something."

So the flake did that, and froze into a mean, hard icicle. But the icicle did not fall off all at once. Instead, the sun melted it bit by bit, and the snowflake (now water again) plunged into a drift of snow and froze into ice once more. It got piled on by many of its brethren, and this was the best they could do. It was no fun at all, and the drop of water regretted being such a jackass when it was still up in the cloud. 

Moral: Keep being a selfish jerk and you'll turn into a complete ice hole. 

A cock-and-bull story.

 

The Hare and the Tortoise: The Motion Picture.

THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE

A Hare was one day making fun of a Tortoise for being so slow upon his feet. "Wait a bit," said the Tortoise; "I'll run a race with you, and I'll wager that I win." "Oh, well," replied the Hare, who was much amused at the idea, "let's try and see"; and it was soon agreed that the fox should set a course for them, and be the judge. When the time came both started off together, but the Hare was soon so far ahead that he thought he might as well have a rest: so down he lay and fell fast asleep. Meanwhile the Tortoise kept plodding on, and in time reached the goal. At last the Hare woke up with a start, and dashed on at his fastest, but only to find that the Tortoise had already won the race.

Moral: Slow and steady wins the race.

***

To: Aesop, Aesop-Spades Productions

From: Dolly Schott, Jupiter Pictures

Re: Hare/Tort

Aes—

Love the latest version. Notes from brass. Jerry's looking at Ferrell for the Tortoise. Any chance of punching up dialogue to reel him in? Don’t forget lunch Thurs!

***

THE HARE AND THE WACKY TORTOISE

A Hare was one day making fun of a Tortoise for being so slow upon his feet. "You big meeeeaaanie," said the Tortoise; "I'm gonna run a race with you, and I betcha I’m gonna win!" "Oh, well," replied the Hare, who was much amused at the idea, "let's try and see"; and it was soon agreed that the fox should set a course for them, and be the judge. When the time came both started off together, but the Hare was soon so far ahead that he thought he might as well have a rest: so down he lay and fell fast asleep. Meanwhile the Tortoise kept plodding on; when he passed the rabbit he yelled, “Hey, fluffbutt, watch me go! Wooo!” and in time reached the goal. At last the Hare woke up with a start, and dashed on at his fastest, but only to find that the Tortoise had already won the race.

Moral: Slow, steady, and wacky wins the race.

***

To: Aesop, Aesop-Spades Productions

From: Dolly Schott, Jupiter Pictures

Re: Hare/Tort

Aes—

Ferrell’s people on it, but now Gosling’s people threatening to walk because Hare’s a “weenie” (their words not mine). Can you make Hare a little more simpatico? Capiche? See you Ths.

***

HANDSOME HARE, WACKY TORTOISE

A Hare was one day teasing a Tortoise for being so slow upon his feet. "You big meeeeaaanie," said the Tortoise; "I'm gonna run a race with you, and I betcha I’m gonna win!" "Well, I’m just sayin’ you’re not exactly turbo-charged," replied the Hare, who was much amused at the idea, "let's try and see"; and it was soon agreed that the fox should set a course for them, and be the judge. When the time came both started off together, but the Hare was soon so far ahead and, being that he really wasn’t a meanie and didn’t want to run up the score, something his bully of a father used to do, he thought he might as well have a rest: so down he lay and fell fast asleep. Meanwhile the Tortoise kept plodding on; when he passed the rabbit he yelled, “Hey, fluffbutt, watch me go! Wooo!” and in time reached the goal. At last the Hare woke up with a start, and dashed on at his fastest, but only to find that the Tortoise had already won the race. They traded fist bumps and went out for beer, wisecracking as they went.

Moral: Slow, steady, and wacky is about as good as being real fast.

***

To: Aesop, Aesop-Spades Productions

From: Dolly Schott, Jupiter Pictures

Re: Hare/Tort

Aes—

Getting there! Marketing weighed in, says big race finish will move the videogames. Need more zip to ending. Possible title change. Said you were all over it, as always. Whatcha got for me, big guy? Lunch mañana.

***

CHOO-CHOO AND THE PHILLY FLASH

A Hare named Flash was one day teasing a Tortoise for being so slow upon his feet; his chugging motion led to his being called Choo-Choo. "You big meeeeaaanie," said the Tortoise; "I'm gonna run a race with you, and I betcha I’m gonna win!" "Well, I’m just sayin’ you’re not exactly turbo-charged," replied the Hare, who was much amused at the idea, "let's try and see"; and it was soon agreed that the fox should set a course for them, and be the judge. When the time came both started off together, but the Hare was soon so far ahead and, being that he really wasn’t a meanie and didn’t want to run up the score, something his bully of a father used to do, he thought he might as well have a rest: so down he lay and fell fast asleep. Meanwhile the Tortoise kept plodding on; when he passed the rabbit he yelled, “Hey, fluffbutt, watch me go! Wooo!” and in time reached the goal. At last the Hare woke up with a start, and dashed on at his fastest, but only to find that the Tortoise was close to the finish line. As they barreled toward the end Choo-Choo hit an oil slick and skidded out, but Flash stopped to right him. Then Flash fell into a well, but Choo-Choo pulled him out. They crossed the finish line together. They traded fist bumps and went out for beer, wisecracking as they went.

Moral: Friends are better than winning.

***

To: Aesop, Aesop-Spades Productions

From: Dolly Schott, Jupiter Pictures

Re: Hare/Tort

Aes—

Sorry had to cancel. NY office insisted on meeting in person. Ed says script is coming along nicely, just need love interest who believes in hero when all is lost (you know), another big twist, maybe a funny sidekick (the fox? possibilities). I said: Trust Aes. Don’t let me down!

***

CHOO-CHOO AND THE PHILLY FLASH

A Hare named Flash was one day teasing a Tortoise for being so slow upon his feet; his chugging motion led to his being called Choo-Choo, and his overprotective mother had always held him back. "You big meeeeaaanie," said the Tortoise; "I'm gonna run a race with you, and I betcha I’m gonna win!" "Well, I’m just sayin’ you’re not exactly turbo-charged," replied the Hare, who was much amused at the idea, "let's try and see." Isolde the Iguana defended the Tortoise, picking a fight with Hare, but she was a hoochie momma and Flash just traded smart remarks with her. Despite being cold-blooded, Islode was hot. Choo-Choo secretly loved her but knew he was too slow and shelly for her. Choo-Choo’s wacky pal, Gumball the fat fox, was told to set a course for them, and be the judge. Gumball, a natural conniver, kept trying to set out the course to favor his friend, but Choo-Choo told him not to. Flash’s friend, Louie the Stork, went to Croc, the local bookie, and put everything he had on Flash. When the time came both started off together, but the Hare was soon so far ahead and, being that he really wasn’t a meanie and didn’t want to run up the score, something his bully of a father used to do, he thought he might as well have a rest: so down he lay and fell fast asleep. Meanwhile the Tortoise kept plodding on; when he passed the rabbit he yelled, “Hey, fluffbutt, watch me go! Wooo!” and in time reached the goal. At last the Hare woke up with a start, and dashed on at his fastest, but only to find that the Tortoise was close to the finish line. As they barreled toward the end Choo-Choo hit an oil slick and skidded out, but Flash stopped to right him. Then Flash fell into a well, but Choo-Choo pulled him out. It turned out that Flash was trying to throw the race to teach Louie to stop gambling! Choo-Choo taught him he could not cheat to lose, even in a good cause. They crossed the finish line together. They traded fist bumps and went out for beer, wisecracking as they went.

Moral: Friends are better than winning.

***

To: Aesop, Aesop-Spades Productions

From: Dolly Schott, Jupiter Pictures

Re: Hare/Tort

Aes—

Bay wants explosions.

***

FLASH AND BURN

A Hare named Flash was one day teasing a Tortoise for being so slow upon his feet; his chugging motion led to his being called Choo-Choo, and his overprotective mother had always held him back. "You big meeeeaaanie," said the Tortoise; "I'm gonna run a race with you, and I betcha I’m gonna win!" "Well, I’m just sayin’ you’re not exactly turbo-charged," replied the Hare, who was much amused at the idea, "let's try and see." Isolde the Iguana defended the Tortoise, picking a fight with Hare, but she was a hoochie momma and Flash just traded smart remarks with her. Despite being cold-blooded, Islode was hot. Choo-Choo secretly loved her but knew he was too slow and shelly for her. Choo-Choo’s wacky pal, Gumball the fat fox, was told to set a course for them, and be the judge. Gumball, a natural conniver, kept trying to set out the course to favor his friend, but Choo-Choo told him not to. Flash’s friend, Louie the Stork, went to Croc, the local bookie, and put everything he had on Flash. Isolde, meanwhile, helped Choo-Choo train via a comical montage. When the time came both started off together, but the Hare was soon so far ahead and, being that he really wasn’t a meanie and didn’t want to run up the score, something his bully of a father used to do, he figured he’d coast the rest of the way—but he tripped a booby trap and set off a bomb! The bomb blew him against a tree, where he was knocked out. Meanwhile the Tortoise kept plodding on; when he passed the rabbit he yelled, “Hey, fluffbutt, watch me go! Wooo!” and in time reached the goal. At last the Hare woke up with a start, and dashed on at his fastest, but only to find that the Tortoise was close to the finish line. As they barreled toward the end Choo-Choo hit an oil slick and skidded out into a thicket, and was ready to give up, but Isolde told him he just had to believe in himself. Flash actually appeared and pulled Choo-Choo out. Then Flash fell into a well, but Choo-Choo pulled him out. It turned out that Flash was trying to throw the race to teach Louie to stop gambling! Choo-Choo taught him he could not cheat to lose, even in a good cause. But Croc took a hand to throw the race, and Flash almost was killed in a big explosion! Choo-Choo saved him by covering them both with his shell. Croc, who had been setting the bomb, was not so lucky, and was turned into a pair of expensive shoes. Flash and Choo-Choo crossed the finish line together. Isolde kissed Choo-Choo, even though Flash was much better looking. They traded fist bumps and went out for beer, wisecracking as they went.

Moral: Don’t cheat or you’ll wind up as a pair of shoes.

***

To: Aesop, Aesop-Spades Productions

From: Dolly Schott, Jupiter Pictures

Re: Hare/Tort

Aes—

What’s that in the air? Jasmine? Ammonia? Nope--that is Oscar I’m smelling, my friend. Call me tomorrow to discuss changes from Publicity, second-unit guys, Casting, some more from Ed, Music, and Makeup, the focus group thinks maybe the girl should go for the bunny, there’s some suggestions from the video guys, Gosling’s people are thinking maybe cars instead of running, Ferrell has some ideas for silly voices he wants to use, but Bay says we’re one explosion away from nailing it. We’re getting close. Shooting now slated to start July 12; reshooting to start December 1. Hang in there! You’re a genius!

🐢🐇🎬

Sing!

A young man climbed the mountain upon which lived the Wise One. Everyone knew that the Wise One was indeed the wisest man ever known, and willing to share his wisdom, but few were willing to make the dangerous climb necessary to consult him.

Jim was one who did want to go. He did not know anything about mountaineering, and his first attempt almost ended in disaster. Jim learned a lot from his trips up the mountain, including how much pain could hurt, but finally, one bright morning, he cheered with gasping breaths as he drew himself over a ledge and found a cave, and outside the cave an old man with a shaggy beard chewing a piece of yak jerky.

“Oh, great Wise One,” said Jim, “I have come to seek your direction.”

The wise one called the Wise One nodded, swallowed, and said, “Speak your question.”

Jim flopped down and, once he caught his breath, said, “I have been assailed as a directionless fool. What should I do with my life?”

The Wise One looked at Jim, gaze meeting gaze, mind meeting mind. Then the Wise One nodded. He closed his eyes and sat motionless, so long that Jim thought the man had fallen asleep, so long that Jim began to fear he had died.

Suddenly the eyes snapped open, the head and came up, and the creaky old voice spoke: “You…must sing!” he said.

“Sing?” said Jim, astonished.

“You must,” said the Wise One. “Sing,” he added.

“Like, actually sing musical songs?” said Jim. “Because I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. I forget words; every song would be called ‘The One That Goes Dee Dee Dee’ if I wrote it. I know nothing of music. I don’t know which end of a trombone the music comes out of. I have the natural rhythm of a drunken earthworm. How can you tell me to sing?”

The old man simply shook his head and said, “You must…sing.”

Jim could get nothing more from the old man, so he took the treacherous journey down and went home, wondering what to do. Exhausted, he collapsed into bed, thinking. No one would believe Jim if he told them that the Wise One said singing was his destiny… and yet, that’s what had happened. Somehow, this was his purpose.

The next morning he arose, determined to follow this path.

He thought that destiny would carry him---after all, he had never tried singing publicly, and maybe some mighty force would cling to his boldness as like is pulled to like. Jim set up a box in the square and climbed on top, and began to sing every song to which he knew some of the words. He did this for a week. In that period he had more old shoes and empty cans flung at him than any five stray cats in town.

Jim realized that he’d been waiting for magic, but destiny was not magic. It was a destination.

He started taking music lessons that day. He took singing lessons. He took music theory. He took music history. He sold his little home to pay for it. He got a job selling sheet music, singing to make sales, then shutting up because it worked better. He kept learning. He went to open-mike nights. He worked harder. He sang all the time. In his phrase, Jim had singing “out the bazooty” for decades.

Then he went to see the Wise One once more.

Jim was a good deal older now, of course, but he was patient, and slowly made his way up the mountain, stopping as needed to rest and acclimate himself in the cold breeze. After all these years he'd come to wonder if he had hallucinated the old man while stumbling around in the thin mountain air. He did not think so, though, and expected to find the man's remains, and maybe some fossilized yak jerky. 

The Wise One was still at the cave where Jim had left him. He was not a frozen corpse, as Jim thought initially; just the incredibly old man, still breathing. His eyes opened slowly and regarded Jim. 

"You have returned," the Wise One croaked, his voice unused in countless months. 

"You remember me," Jim gasped.

"Of course."

"Then you know you told me I must sing."

"Yes."

"All right," said Jim, when he had recovered his breath, "I thought I'd tell you how it worked out. I have spent decades learning about singing. I have spent decades learning about music. I could draw the Circle of Fifths in my sleep. If you give me a note I can give you its harmonic pitches in a second. I have transcribed music and sold it. I learned to play the trumpet, harmonica, guitar, ukulele, clarinet, and seven other instruments, albeit all poorly. I can give you biographical sketches of every important musician in the last century, every important composer in the last millennium. I have eked out a living on the periphery of the music business, or barely so, spending my entire life on the outside, looking in. Because in the opinion of dozens of music teachers and vocal coaches, hundreds of professional colleagues, and thousands of listeners, I have no talent for singing. I am a failure by every measure." Jim sat back in the snow with a grunt. "I thought you should know," he said at last.

A long time passed. The sun crept lower in the cold, vacant sky. Stars began to twinkle in the east, as lights far below began to twinkle in the town. The breeze quieted. All was still.

Then the Wise One turned his head toward Jim. With an effort, he opened his ancient mouth, and spoke at last. 

"Well," he said, "it was worth a shot."