THE STORY-TELLER

By P.K. Silverson

© Copyright 2009
By The Author
All Rights Reserved

A long time ago, on an island in the middle of a coastal bay where sunshine struck the water everyday at high noon and split into a thousand sparkling pieces, a pair of boys was born to a highly-respected advocate and his good wife.

Overjoyed by the good fortune of having produced twin sons on their very first try, the couple eagerly presented the duo to their family, friends and neighbors with justifiable pride.

“They’re adorable,” the smiling family, friends and neighbors told the highly-respected advocate and his good wife. It was true. The baby boys were really quite handsome. “Have you given any thought to what they will be when they grow up?”

The highly-respected advocate would stick his thumbs through the belt loops of his pants and puff out his chest. “I have some thoughts on the matter,” he would posture grandly, but his good wife would quietly wave the question aside.

“They will be what they will be,” the highly-respected advocate’s good wife would answer. “We’re just thankful the Lord has seen fit to bless us with boys who are both healthy. It’s our sole hope we can help them grow into strong, fine men.”

“What wonderful parents you will be,” the family, friends and neighbors would remark, for it seemed from the good wife’s answer, all things were possible in the course of time for the tiny baby boys if they but had the desire and the ambition to make it so.

Indeed, in the beginning, it was as if heaven smiled down on the highly-respected advocate and his young family, because time brought prosperity with it. Within a few short months of the twin births, their father’s list of clients had grown to the point where he was able to move his brood off the island in the middle of the coastal bay and into a large, elegant house by the edge of the great white plains.

“We’re moving up in the world,” the highly-respected advocate told his good wife with justifiable pride as the last of their furniture was being carried into the large, elegant house by big, strapping men. “Someday, our boys will have homes like this and families of their own.”

“If that is the way things are meant to be,” the highly-respected advocate’s good wife reminded her husband, “that is the way they will be. It’s only our job to help them grow into strong, fine men as best we can.”

With that, she would turn to her eldest son, who had only come into the world scant minutes before his brother, but nevertheless was the couple’s first born and recipient of all rewards and responsibilities inherent in the rank, and said to him, “It is your job to watch out for your little brother, always, because we have high hopes for you both.”

The eldest son would nod his head obediently, for he was a good boy and wanted only to please his parents.

His younger brother would wonder what his job was, because he, too, only wanted to please his parents. But he hadn’t a clue how to go about it.

Life was kind to the highly-respected advocate’s family. As the boys grew, they were inseparable. Beyond the large, elegant house at the edge of the great white plains was a vast, green forest. There, the twins spent many happy hours. On warm summer days, they would run and shout and play at hiding games and make pretend. When the winter came, they’d build snow men and snow forts and toboggan down the steep inclines of the wooded hills. In the spring they’d roll in the grass. In the fall, they’d cannonball headlong into piles of rainbow-colored leaves.

When the weather was so foul that outdoor play was impossible, the pair would huddle in front of the small hearth at the far end of the large, elegant house and make believe. The eldest twin, who had come into the world scant minutes before his brother but was older nonetheless, was quite good with conjuring up stories to entertain his twin. In the glow of the firelight, he spun tales which held both boys in rapt attention.

As his children grew, so, too, did the client list of the highly-respected advocate. The result was more prosperity than the family had ever known before. All things were possible in the course of time, as it always had been and as it always would be.

Or so it seemed.

Time passed, as time always does. Soon the day came for the twins to begin their education. Their parents enrolled them in a fine school at great expense so they would properly learn about the ways of God along with the ways of man. On the very first day of school, the highly-respected advocate instructed his sons to: “Keep to those books, boys, and attend your teachers well. The best way to learn is to keep your ears open and your mouth closed while in class… unless you’re called on to answer. If you mind me and study hard, you’re sure to always do well.

“Your mother and I both have high hopes for you,” he finished. With that, the highly-respected advocate and his good wife kissed the eldest son on the top of his head and handed him two lunch pails.

“Look after your younger brother, dear,” the highly-respected advocate’s good wife said. The eldest son, who was older only by scant minutes but certainly older, nevertheless, nodded his head obediently, for he was a good boy.

“Mother,” the younger son protested unhappily, for his brother was in fact only scant minutes older than he, “don’t you think I’m a bit old for that?”

“Not at all,” the highly-respected advocate’s good wife answered. “You’ll always be my baby to me.”

So, the two brothers set off down the lane leading from their home by the edge of the great white plains toward the school-house which lay in a dell by the edge of town.

“Let me carry my own lunch pail,” the youngest son pleaded with his brother, not at all happy about being looked after by someone who was only scant minutes older than himself.

“No,” the eldest son answered wisely. “This is my responsibility because I am the first-born.”

“Sometimes you’re such a toadie,” the youngest son observed, walking the rest of the way to the school-house without so much as another word, even though the world was bright with autumnal sunshine that reached through the trees of the vast, green forest with warm fingers and played gently over the boys as they made their way down the lane.

When they reached the school-house and found their classroom, the youngest son again demanded his brother give him his own lunch pail. Once again, the older boy refused. This made his younger twin quite cross, indeed. So, when it came time for the children to find seats, the youngest son waited until his brother found a place, then went directly to the opposite side of the room. He took a chair as far away as possible from his older twin.

The day skipped along quickly as their teacher revealed new wonders to the boys and their classmates. The eldest twin was captivated by the parable of a young lamb and a powerful lion their teacher read to them from a Good Book. His younger brother quickly demonstrated a natural ability to cipher numbers. Before either boy realized it, the hour drew round for them to return home. The sun had begun its long decent over the crest of trees in the vast, green forest. So, the brothers hurried down the lane toward the large, elegant house by the edge of the great white plains.

“Let me carry my pail now,” the youngest twin complained to his brother, for lunch-time was long over and he had long since made short work of the contents .

“Mother told me to look after it for you,” the eldest boy answered. “That’s just what I shall do.”

“You take things far too literally,” the youngest brother observed. He walked the rest of the way home without so much as another word and petulantly refused to play Indians with his brother in the vast, green forest afterward.

Days came and days went. The boys attended to classes and studies with the kind of attention that would make any parent justifiably proud. The eldest child reveled in the Good Book’s teachings while his brother dexterously calculated sums with amazing speed. Yet, regardless of the effort the youngest twin put into his work, the strongest praise and greatest reward always seemed to go to his brother because he was the first-born, even if only by scant minutes.

“Keep to those books, boys, and you’ll always do well,” the highly-respected advocate reminded his sons. “Attend your teachers by keeping your ears open and your mouth closed while in class… unless you’re called on to answer, of course. Your mother and I both have high hopes for you.”

Deep down, the youngest boy knew their highest hopes were reserved for his elder brother. In time, he began to tire of living in the shade of his twin’s shadow. “Why must we go to school?” he complained to no one in particular one night at dinner. The normally cheerful dining room of the large, elegant house by the edge of the great white plains went suddenly quiet, as if death had scratched its icy fingernails across the far wall.

The highly-respected advocate set down his knife and set down his fork. He wiped at his mouth with his napkin as he cleared his throat. He looked thoughtfully at his youngest son and said, “because that is where you will learn the practical, ethical and moral things which will help you grow into strong, fine men. Have you given any thought to what you will be when you grow up?”

The youngest boy looked down at his hands sullenly and shook his head, “No.”

“Well, think about it now,” the highly-respected advocate stuck his thumbs through the belt loops of his pants and puffed out his chest. “In fact, I’ve been giving a great deal of thought to the matter,” he postured grandly. His good wife smiled quietly.

“You will be what you will be, Son,” the highly-respected advocate’s good wife said to her youngest boy. “All things are possible in the course of time if you but have the desire and the ambition to make it so.”

Right then and there, the youngest son decided that it was his desire to live outside of his brother’s shadow. It was his sole ambition to make it so.

Time passed, as time always does. The boys continued to grow until they were no longer little children and hardly even boys any more, but young men with their eyes on the future. In the fine school where they’d been enrolled by their parents at great expense, their studies about the ways of God along and the ways of man advanced as well. They were taken beyond basic letters and numbers, beyond childhood stories and into the earliest stages of science and philosophy.

The highly-respected advocate’s eldest son was devoutly fascinated by the readings from the Good Book. During school recess, he was quite good at telling his class-mates stories based on the day’s teachings, holding his young audience in rapt attention. He began to entertain thoughts that, one day, he, too, might teach the Lord’s word.

“You must be very pleased,” family, friends and neighbors said to the highly-respected advocate and his good wife when their eldest son revealed this intention.

The highly-respected advocate stuck his thumbs through the belt loops of his pants and puffed his chest out proudly. “I always had high hopes for the boy,” he postured grandly. “The fact is I’ve already given the matter a great deal of thought.”

His good wife smiled quietly, not seeming the least concerned. She said, “Our sons will be what they will be. We’re just thankful that the Good Lord has seen fit to bless us with boys who have good minds.”

Hearing this, the younger twin knew his worst fears were being realized. His parents’ highest hopes were indeed reserved for his elder brother. Hurt and angry, he tried to think of ways he could escape from the shade of his twin’s shadow. But he could not, because he could not decide on what he wanted to be.

To make matters worse, the family, friends and neighbors seemed to endorse his parents’ position. “What marvelous parents you are,” they remarked, for all things were possible in the course of time if the boys but had the desire and the ambition to make it so.

Or so it seemed.

The eldest twin dedicated himself thoroughly to his calling, for he was a good boy and he wanted to please his parents. One day, as his teacher was reading a passage from the Good Book aloud, a thought occurred to him. He raised his hand in class without being called on. “What is it, young man?” the teacher asked him finally.

The boy stood up, as was his habit, and asked in a clear, strong voice, “Are all souls the same size?”

“What?” the teacher said, quite flustered. “What do you mean?”

“I just want to know,” the elder twin repeated, “if all souls are the same size? Are men’s souls bigger than women’s souls? Are adult souls larger than children’s souls? Do good souls loom over evil souls? I’d really like to know.”

“What a maroon,” the youngest twin whispered to a classmate. A gale of laughter swept through the room.

The teacher rapped his pointing stick quickly on his desk to restore order. “Young man,” he said to the eldest twin, “I simply cannot, no, will not have you disrupting this class. Wait for me in the school office.”

The elder twin was sent out of the room and later, was dismissed from school for the day. That evening, in shame, he waited for his father in the small study of the large, elegant house by the edge of the great white plains.

“What happened in school today?” the highly-respected advocate asked his first-born son when he arrived home. The boy repeated the question he’d put to his teacher and recounted his unceremonious exit from the fine school his parents had enrolled him in at great expense to themselves.

“Ah, son,” the highly-respected advocate shook his head in shame, “I’m disappointed in you. You should know well by now the best way to learn is to keep your ears open and your mouth closed while in class. Attend to your books. In this way, and this way only, you’ll always do well.”

“But Father,” the eldest son protested. “I had a question. I really wanted to know.”

“Your mother and I both have such high hopes for you,” the highly-respected advocate shook his head sadly. “You should be more like your brother.”

And that was all.

But it was quite enough for the youngest twin, who stood by the door of the small study where he overheard the entire conversation. He could see his brother was crest-fallen from his father’s disappointment. For the first time ever, he felt the shadow of his elder twin lifted from his shoulders. He spent the rest of the evening with a smile on his face, a song in his heart and a whistle between his lips.

The next day, the twins returned to the school their parents had enrolled them in at great expense. But the boys found themselves separated by entirely different thoughts. The eldest son still had many questions in his mind and was frustrated by his inability to even ask them, let alone to find answers. Every time he raised his hand, his classmates would giggle hysterically. The teacher discouraged this reaction by ignoring him.

Meanwhile, his younger brother, though junior only by scant minutes, rededicated himself to his studies, knowing through his excellence, he could win the full affections of his parents away from his brother once and for all.

With no outlet for his frustrations, the eldest twin began to write down his most private thoughts rather than express himself openly. Slowly at first, then more and more rapidly, he set his impressions and his questions down on the pages of his Ranger Bob notebook. Soon, he was answering his own questions with stories of his own devising.

He began to anticipate the ridicule of others. He responded to this provocation with razor sharp wit through the pages of his compositions. To his surprise, and the delight of his fellow school-mates, through this exercise, he found himself fully prepared to defend himself in most situations. His classmates came to appreciate his ready tongue and challenged him constantly to best their awkward insults. The more cleverly he responded, the more they challenged him.

He became something of an outsider from his circle of friends, never stopping to consider how wide the circle actually was or why.

Time passed, as time always does. Soon came the day for the brothers to graduate from the school their parents had enrolled them in at great expense. They did so with highest honors. Their entrance to their university of choice was assured.

The eldest twin received his diploma with a round of heart-felt applause from his peers. His younger brother was not so lucky, much to his own distress.

Still, family, friends and neighbors flocked celebrate the occasion with them in the large, elegant house at the edge of the great white plains. “You must be very pleased,” they commented as the highly-respected advocate and his good wife circulated through the rooms full of guests. “Have you given any thought to what the boys will be when they finish college?”

The highly-respected advocate stuck his thumbs through the belt loops of his pants and puffed out his chest, posturing grandly, “I have been thinking on the very matter for quite some time.”

But his good wife quietly waved him aside. “They will be what they will be,” was her answer. “We’re just thankful the Good Lord has seen fit to bless us with boys who have grown strong and healthy. It’s our sole hope now to guide them into productive lives as best we can.”

“What extraordinary parents you are,” the family, friends and neighbors remarked, for all things were possible in the course of time for the boys if they but had the desire and the ambition to make it so.

Or so it seemed.

The day came for the twins to set off to the halls of higher learning. Their parents had enrolled them in a school of the highest prestige and tuition where they could continue their education under the guidance of the wisest professors. The highly-respected advocate shook the hand of his eldest son, and his good wife kissed they boy as tears filled her eyes. “I want you to watch out for your little brother, because we have high hopes for you both,” she told her first-born.

“Mother,” the younger son thundered unhappily, for his brother was in fact only scant minutes older than he, “don’t you think I’m a bit old for that?”

“Not at all,” the highly-respected advocate’s good wife answered. “You’ll always be my baby to me.”

The twins set off to the hallowed university halls, where, on their very first day, they were called upon to declare their intentions as to their fields of study.

The elder brother, though he was only older by scant minutes, wondered briefly aloud, “I wish I knew what Father wanted us to do,” for he was a good boy and wanted only to please his parents. Then, he announced his decision to concentrate on arts and letters.

“You always were such a pompous ass,” his younger brother observed, quickly stating his intent to focus on science and mathematics. “I’m free from your shadow at last,” he announced, “and I’ll be grateful if you would keep your big bazoo out of my personal business. Or else.”

And so the twins went their separate ways.

The eldest son kept close hold on his father’s advice to attend his teachers. He kept his ears open and his mouth closed in class, unless he was called upon to answer. He learned to make strong statements in his prose and won the praise of his professors and fellow classmates.

Meanwhile, his younger brother diligently kept his nose pressed to his slide rule. He began to unlock the hidden secrets of the larger universe.

At holidays, they would get together with their parents at their home in the large, elegant house by the edge of the great white plains. “I hope you’re watching out for your little brother, because we have high hopes for you both,” their mother reminded the elder twin.

“I hope you’ll remember to keep your big bazoo out of my personal business, or else,” the younger twin reminded his elder brother the moment their parents were out of earshot.

During their final year of study at the university of the highest prestige and tuition, the eldest son took it in mind to join a class of religious philosophy. The professor granted permission for the young man to join the class immediately, having heard of his reputation for prosaic thought and discourse.

In the first session, the professor asked his students to write an essay marrying a religious teaching to an everyday application. The elder twin attacked the project with mustard and relish. He created a story involving a lamb and a lion based on one he’d first heard long ago in a passage from the Good Book. Except in his story, the lion did not lie down with the lamb.

He ate him for lunch instead. “It’s easy to be generous when it doesn’t cost you anything,” the highly-respected advocate’s eldest son moralized at the end of his story.

The professor was so taken by the composition, he not only transcribed copies for all the students in the class, he also sent it off to a friend of his in the publishing business for consideration. The manuscript was quickly accepted, and the highly-respected advocate’s eldest son received a large check along with an invitation to submit additional pieces.

The eldest twin was highly flattered by the overwhelming response to his efforts. He dedicated himself thoroughly to his studies, just wanting to please his professor. One day, as his teacher was reading a passage from the Good Book aloud, an old thought occurred to him. Forgetting his father’s proven advice to attend his teachers, keep his ears open and his mouth closed in class, he raised his hand, anxious to be called on.

“What is it, young man?” the professor asked him finally.

The advocate’s eldest son stood up, as was his habit, and asked in a clear, strong voice, “Are all souls the same size?”

“What?” the teacher said, quite flustered. “What do you mean?”

“I just want to know,” the elder twin repeated, “If all souls are the same size? Are men’s souls bigger than women’s souls? Are adult souls larger than children’s souls? Do good souls loom over evil souls? I’d really like to know.”

A gale of laughter swept through the room.

“Young man,” the professor said, rapping his pointing stick quickly on his desk to restore order, “I simply cannot, no, will not have you disrupting this class. Wait for me in the dean’s office.”

With that, the elder twin was sent out of the room. Within hours, he was dismissed from the university of the highest prestige and tuition altogether.

In terrible shame, the eldest twin returned to the large, elegant house by the edge of the great white plains and waited for his father in the small study.

“What happened at school?” the highly-respected advocate’s good wife asked her first-born son, not waiting for her husband to arrive home. The boy repeated his question to the teacher, and recounted his unceremonious exit from the university of the highest prestige and tuition.

“What a disgrace,” the highly-respected advocate’s good wife shook her head in disgust, “Your father will be so very disappointed in you. He always had such high hopes for you.”

“But Mother,” the eldest son protested. “He never told me what they were.”

The highly-respected advocate’s good wife shook her head sadly. “I thought you would figure them out in time,” she said. “I guess your brother is our only hope now.”

And that was all.

Mortified by his mother’s rejection, the elder twin left the large, elegant house by the edge of the great white plains in tears. He walked through the small town by the edge of the vast, green wood until he came to the tavern there. He bought himself some dinner with the proceeds of the check he’d received from his professor’s friend in the book trade. At that moment, he was struck by a sudden inspiration. Right then and there he decided, regardless of his parents’ opinion, high or low, he would succeed as a story-teller.

So he made his way back to the island in the middle of a coastal bay, where he’d been born and where the offices of his professor’s friend stood. Without an appointment, he presented himself at the private offices of a notable publishing house. A young woman with great legs recognized his name instantly and remembered her employer’s standing invitation to the young man. She offered him a cup of hot coffee and asked him politely to sit in the reception area while she announced his presence. Within a few short minutes, the aspiring writer found himself face to face with the object of his search.

The proprietor of the noted publishing house was an ordinary-looking man with an extraordinary smile, a merry laugh and a twinkle in his eyes. “Of course the invitation stands, dear boy,” he told the astonished story-teller. “Your writing is pure gold. Do you have a place to stay? I could find one for you if you need it. And don’t worry about where you’re going to work. I have room for you right here down the hall.”

With that, the proprietor of the noted publishing house stood up, shook the eldest twin’s hand firmly and called for the young woman with great legs. “Show this boy to his new office,” he said with a smile. “This lad’s going to make us all rich.”

The young woman with great legs escorted the young man down the hall to an empty room, where everything he needed to write was already waiting for him. He sat down, rolled up his sleeves, picked up a pad and began to work, letting his thoughts flow from within.

He considered how foolish expectations had cost him the love and respect of his family as he looked at the empty pages of the pad. Slowly at first, then more and more rapidly, he set his impressions and his questions down on the paper. Soon, he was answering his own questions with a new story of his own devising.

A beautiful princess happened to chance upon an unsuspecting frog whose only crime was to take his sun in the same courtyard where someone was feeling sorry for themselves. The encounter inevitably proved both horrible and fatal for the poor amphibian. The highly-respected advocate’s eldest twin son moralized it would be best to accept things for what they are, or somebody could get seriously hurt.

When he finished, he picked up the pad and walked back down the hall to the personal office of the proprietor of the noted publishing house. The young woman with the great legs smiled at him and asked, “Done so soon?”

The would be story-teller nodded his head slowly, uncertain as to whether he’d taken an appropriate length of time to accomplish his task. The young woman with great legs glanced at him reassuringly and offered him a cup of hot coffee. Then she asked him politely to sit in the reception area while she announced his presence. Within a few short minutes, the aspiring writer found himself once again face to face with the proprietor of the noted publishing house.

“Let me see what you’ve done for me, my young genius,” the publishing magnate said with a merry laugh. His eyes twinkled as they rushed across the pages. When he was finished, his lips puckered into a long whistle.

“I said it once, I’ll say it again. Your writing is pure gold. I can’t promise you much at first, but stay with me and you’ll make us both rich.”

The proprietor of the noted publishing house stood up to clasp the story-teller’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “I couldn’t help but notice,” the smiling magnate said, “you didn’t put your name to this. It’s wonderful work. You should be justifiably proud of it.”

The highly-respected advocate’s eldest son blushed a bright shade of crimson at this oversight. But he knew his parents were ashamed of him. He could not put his name to the story. “No matter,” the proprietor of the noted publishing house said cheerfully. “We’ll think up a pen name for you. That’s all.”

Which is precisely what they did.

Once done, the proprietor of the noted publishing house showed his protégé’s story to a friend in the periodical trade, who was not only delighted to read it, but instantly accepted it for publication.

The story-teller wrote more stories under his nom-de-plume. Each and every one was accepted for publication. Working diligently to match his ambition to make it so, he soon produced enough tales for the proprietor of the noted publishing house to consider bringing out a collected volume. “You’re a real author now, my lad,” the proprietor of the noted publishing house smiled merrily as he handed the story-teller his own first edition. “Very soon, we shall all be the richer for your wit and insight.”

Not long after his first book hit the stands, the young woman with the great legs introduced the story-teller to a group of literary lights who frequented a tavern down the road. He found they were familiar with his work. His mere presence in their circle exposed him to the ridicule of some and the applause of others. The young story-teller responded to their calculated provocation with razor sharp replies, which he later incorporated into the pages of his compositions. The more cleverly he responded, the better his stories became.

Through this exercise, he found his work in greater demand than ever. There was even talk he would soon be entertaining offers for film rights based on his tales. He became something of an insider with the circle of literary friends who frequented the tavern down the road, never stopping to consider how small that circle actually was or why.

Time passed, as time always does. One day, the young story-teller was making his way to work from the large, elegant home at the southern tip of the island in the middle of a coastal bay. He’d been able to afford its purchase on the strength of his advances alone. As he turned the last corner of the street leading to the noted publishing house, he happened to spy his younger brother coming out of a clothing shop which catered to gentlemen of the well-bred, if not highest, classes of society. He called to his brother, who stopped, startled, in his tracks. He ran to embrace his younger twin, but there was no smile in return.

“How are you, little brother?” the eldest twin asked, though he was only scant minutes older than his kin.

“Fine, just fine,” his younger twin replied coldly.

“What’s new with you?” the eldest brother inquired, genuinely wanting to know.

“I’m to be married a fortnight hence,” his brother answered.

“That’s absolutely marvelous,” the story-teller said happily. “I’d love to meet your bride.”

“You are not invited,” the youngest twin sniffed at him.

The story-teller was crestfallen when he heard his brother speak. But it was obviously pointless to argue. “I can only hope for your happiness, then,” he said, turning to walk away.

Before he was half-way down the block, a thought occurred to him. He hurried back to where his brother still stood. “I never found out,” he said, “what became of you after I left the university?”

“I graduated and became an accountant,” the youngest twin answered with justifiable pride.

“But you had a dream. You were bent on unlocking the hidden secrets of the larger universe,” the story-teller said. “What happened?”

“I’m too old for you to be treating me like a baby,” the younger son thundered unhappily, for his brother was, in fact, only scant minutes older than he after all. “Dreams don’t pay bills. I have a good job and make a good wage. My Father and Mother are justifiably proud of all I’ve accomplished. My future bride and I dine with them regularly on Fridays. One day, they’ll leave their large, elegant house to me and my family.”

“It’s always been my desire to live outside of your cursed shadow and I’m glad to be free of it at last,” the younger twin announced. “While it was my ambition to make them admit I’m their sole joy and hope, it was you who made it so. For that I am forever grateful. You disgraced Father and Mother.

“And now, whatever your dreams, big brother,” the highly-respected advocate’s only youngest son snarled as he spat out the words, “I’ll thank you to remember to keep your big bazoo out of my personal business.” He yelled the last over his shoulder as he stormed away.

“Good luck to you and your new bride and your fine plans for a happy life,” the story-teller called after him, suddenly aware he’d been handed the theme for his finest tale yet. Smiling, he briskly walked the rest of the way to the offices of the noted publishing house. Once back at his own familiar desk, after the pretty young woman with the great legs handed him a piping hot cup of coffee and a cruller, he sat down to write. And this is what he wrote:

A long time ago, on an island in the middle of a coastal bay, where sunshine struck the water everyday at high noon and split into a thousand sparkling pieces, a pair of boys was born to a highly-respected advocate and his good wife.

Overjoyed by their good fortune of having produced twin sons on their very first try, the couple eagerly presented them to their family, friends and neighbors with justifiable pride.

He quickly filled page after page with his story, the words flowing easily from his mind to the paper through the tip of his favorite pen. He sent it to his mentor’s friend in the periodical trade, who quickly pulled a period piece to make room for this latest work in the very next issue. Within a week, the story-teller had a firm commitment from the proprietor of the noted publishing house for a new volume based on the story. Shortly thereafter, film right offers began pouring in.

The story-teller’s full-length prose was brought out to great acclaim. Even the harshest critics allowed the world was richer for the tale’s wit and insight. The movie based on the book went on to win the highest awards for best screen-play from an adaptation.

As a personal celebration, he sent his younger brother a bottle of the finest champagne.

Anonymously.

No longer overwhelmed by acclaim, the story-teller went back to his circle of literary friends, happy to be an insider and never stopping to consider how small that circle actually was or why. While his proposals continued to garner high advance payments even before a single word was set to the page. In time, he found his greatest satisfaction in the permanent company of the beautiful young woman with the great legs he’d met his very first day back on the island in the middle of a coastal bay where he’d been born.

The couple lived happily in his large, elegant home at the southern tip of the island in the middle of a coastal bay, where the story-teller created more tales.

Time passed, as time always does. One day, the highly-acclaimed story-teller and his good wife with the great legs decided to start a family of their own. On the very same island in the middle of a coastal bay, where sunshine struck the water everyday at high noon and split into a thousand sparkling pieces, a pair of boys was born to the highly-acclaimed story-teller and his good wife with great legs.

Overjoyed by their good fortune of having produced twin sons on their very first try, the couple eagerly presented the duo to their closest friends and neighbors with justifiable pride.

“They’re adorable,” the smiling friends and neighbors remarked, which was true. The twins were really quite handsome babies. “Have you given any thought to what they will be when they grow up?”

The highly-acclaimed story-teller stuck his thumbs in the belt loops of his pants and puffed out his chest, then exhaled broadly and laughed along with his good wife.

“They will be what they will be,” he answered. “Only time will tell.”

And he was very right.

But that, of course, is another story entirely.

Moral: Living well is the best revenge.