found this in an email thought it was funny. I wrote it when I was very young.




The Lucky Dandelion



Once upon a time there was a very cute yet terribly stupid mole. His fiancé the beaver was extremely beautiful and majestic. Alas, her father would not allow the marriage; for the mole could not swim, and he would surely drown if he lived with the beavers. The mole then left and became an alcoholic.

One night whilst he was drunk, the mole met a large dandelion who had red eyes and was very clever.

“Dandelion, dandelion.” Cries the mole. “Woe is me, for I can not see, my beautiful bride, who has gone with the tide.”

“I am sorry she has drown.” The dandelion says apologetically.

“No, no, no!” snaps the mole “She is a beaver, and I am a mole. She lives in the water, and I in a hole. If I lived in the spring, t’would be a dangerous thing. For in the river only death god deliver.”

“Then,” says the dandelion “do no fret, for she is not dead. You should not be here drinking, but with her instead. Go back to her now, for she waits for you in bed. Now, have you listened, and have you heard what I’ve said?”

“Yes, dandelion, yes.” Answers the mole. “But I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, how am I to sleep with her when I can never touch her hand.”

The dandelion then pulls out a pair of flippers and a snorkel.

“I’ll make you a deal, your love I can heal. These can be yours, but when the first snow pours, your home shall be mine, that is my only fine.”

“Very well.” Replies the drunken mole. “For I have no other option.”

The mole then went down to the water and was greeted with open arms by his wife to be, the beaver. The mole neglected to tell her about the dandelion arrangement and they were married. The winter came on quickly and so did the snow.

And with the snow came the dandelion.

“Who is this plant, who comes to our door.” Asks the beaver.

“I wish that I did not know.” Says the mole. “But I’m afraid that my dream of the dandelion was no dream at all. Man, I must have been really sottish that night.”

“I hope you don’t mean to say that you made a deal with that demon.” The beaver says, raising her voice just over a whisper.

“I’m sorry it’s true my darling.” Says the mole silently.

“And what is it he looks for?” asks the beaver. “If its money, we don’t have it.”

“No, my sweet.” Replies the mole. “The deed to this house has been his since this morning.”

“Why, oh, why, did you trouble with that I ask.”

“For your love my pretty, though now I do pity.”

“You idiot. You imbecile. Now where do we go? Out in the cold snow? Where the icy winds blow, and the chilly winter air could half freeze a bear?”
Now says dandelion. “Not you, you see, you may live with me, awayfrom Decembers icy snow spree.”

Thus, the mole left and was frozen away by the snow, sleet, and the slush. And the beaver and the dandelion lived happily and had many children.

The End