Once upon a time...

Once upon a time, in a land full of mysticism and wonderment, where the elves traded cotton candy and jelly beans for laughter, where the dragons sang songs of glee, and every girl was a princess, there lived a Street Sweeper (yup, that's right. Even in this song-and-candy-filled utopia, somebody needs to take out the trash. Think of Burning Man - Day 8).

He worked hard as a street sweeper. Sweeping all the cobblestone paths made of jelly beans and juju-bees (which is a huge pain in the ass the day after a good rain. It's all sticky and filled with those paper Cotton Candy cones. "But why would it rain in this paradise?" you ask. If it didn't rain, where would all the rainbows come from? Come on people, light refraction works in Lands of Wonderment too. Get with it.). Every day he did his best to keep the streets clean, dreaming one day of being the greatest street sweeper in the world!

But hard times fell on our street sweeper. See, he wasn't the only street sweeper in town. In fact, he lived in the Western part of Imagination Island that had more street sweepers than any other part of the Island, except for a part on the completely opposite side. So no matter how diligantly he swept, no matter how much care and effort the street sweeper put into his work, some other street sweeper that was better looking, or maybe had a street sweep commerical, or a wacky broom, or played a Mandolin while he swept or SOMETHING, would get most of the street sweeping work.

And yet he pressed on.

He was constantly told tales of fortune by the local elves and princesses (not so much the dragons though, they're mostly into Prop street sweeping. Different crowd) that one day he'd be sweeping the biggest most goldenest streets in the world! People would line up to watch him sweep away! The princesses would bow to him for his street sweeping capabilities, even a few of the Dragons (you can't really stereotype ALL dragons as being Prop fans. Some of them have taste) would sing his praises in song. Elves would shower him with cotton candy and laughter. Younger street sweepers would mimic his street sweeping grace.

But these were just tales. None of the Street Sweeping Supervisors seemed to care that the townsfolk applauded his skills. And cotton candy doesn't pay the bills. So the street sweeper decided to hang up his broom. "Fuck it", he declared. And now our street sweeper is in the process of begrudgingly filling out Substitute Teacher applications in order to pay that bitch of a princess her rent. He discovered Mead made from the honey of stingerless bees and drinks himself to sleep every night. It's better than the tears.

Every once in a while he'll look up at his broom, hanging on the wall and wonder "Did I give up too soon?" No kid. You never had a chance.

-CalexicoD