Story #1 - Whilst This Machine Is to Him

Water: wash thyself.

Leaf: shade thyself.

Wind: cool thyself.

Thou: know thyself.

My dad was a woodcutter by trade, a jokester by disposition. He never met a bad pun he didn’t like.

If he found us some fruit in the forest, he’d ask, “Orange you hungry?” If he killed a bear and wanted my help to lug the carcass, he’d say, “Can’t bear it alone.” If he was holding a box, he’d pretend to thump me with it and say, “C’mon, wanna box?”

The neighborhood witch had some sort of quarrel with him. I never understood why. She cursed his axe.

One day, the axe cut off his right arm. We had a replacement arm made out of tin.

When the axe cut off his other arm, all we could do was get him a second tin one. Should have thrown away the axe at that point.

It wasn’t long before the axe had cut off each and every flesh-and-blood part of his body, even his head. He was all tin in the end.

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