Alphonso and the Faerie

I have a lot of Apps on my iPhone. I keep them all neat and clean, in little folders. OCD. But I love a good App. It seems like there are some which I use every day. Several times a day, in fact. And then there are others that never see the underside of my fingerprint.

I have one that’s called Story Dice. It does what it sounds like. You tap it, it rolls three little dice on your screen, and each die then displays an icon. From there, you are supposed to write a story.

I have never used this app to write a story. Today is the day. Yeppers. Here we go.

One fine day, in April, somewhere in the Bronx Zoo, and an elephant named Alphonso woke up and stretched his trunk. He walked out of his cave area, and found a wrench lying in the dirt, just in front of his door.

“Hmmmm,” he said. “That’s odd. A wrench. Like, outa’ nowhere.”

He took a few more steps and saw a salt and pepper shaker set. They were not the run of the mill salt & pepper shakers. No. They looked like little Bonobo Monkeys, but they had a bunch of holes in the tops of their heads. His best friends were a couple of Bonobos, next door. Bobby & Carol. A couple of real swingers.

He gathered up the items with his trunk, gave a quick look around the zoo yard, and took them back into his cave.

As he walked back in through the door, a Faerie appeared. She was about 3 inches tall, blonde, and wore a light blue dress with a big waffley skirt area that fluffed out everywhere. In her right hand, she held a little tiny wand. She looked just like a teeny version of Kristen Chenoweth.

Alphonso nearly stepped right on her.

“Hey, you big gorilla! Watch where you are going!” she shouted.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you,” he replied.
“What’s your name, Bub?”
“My name is Alphonso. Alphonso the Elephant. I am no Gorilla, young miss,” he said.
“Well I am no young Miss,” the Faerie returned. “Come Tuesday, and I’ll be 1,873 years old, give or take a few.”
“Wow. You look great, old little lady, then.”
“What yourself, nose-boy.”

Then, Alphonso looked around the cave, and gesturing with his trunk; he said, “Welcome to my abode. What can I do you for?”

“I am here to grant you one wish. OR, you can have this little submarine, which is filled with honey bees.”

Alphonso took a deep breath and sat back on his big gray butt. He reached deep into his pouch, which he kept tied around his neck. He pulled out a tea bag, a paper clip, and a lock. Carefully, he placed each one on the ground, in front of the Faerie. Then, he swept his trunk over the top of them, and said, “Behold, my favorite treasures. I did not catch your name.”
“Behold my favorite treasures, Alice.”

“Cheese. Bird Poop. Life Preserver,” she said.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Asked Alphonso.
I don’t really know. Those are just the next three icons that came up on the Story Dice.
“Fine!” He retorted. “Route 95 Sign. Pretzel. Mittens.”

They traded Story Dice Icons for hours.
Finally, the Faerie got so tired. She fell asleep right on the ground.

Alphonso grabbed the little wand with his trunk, and then he waited. He would wait until the little Faerie woke up, and give her some bee-filled-submarine choices of her own.

The End.

Moral of the story. Well. There isn’t one. Not really. But I love elephants, monkeys, and faeries. It depends on the roll of the dice. I suppose, on every day, we get rolled a bunch of story dice. We never know what we are going to get. But once that lot is rolled, we can always make a choice. Let’s always try to make THAT choice, a good one.
Like the Bonobo Salt & Pepper Shakers, which can be repurposed for your friends, Bobby & Carol, for Christmas next year.


“How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.”
― William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice


“If it is not right do not do it; if it is not true do not say it.”
― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations


“Loyalty was a great thing, but no lieutenants should be forced to choose between their leader and a circus with elephants.”
― Neil Gaiman, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch