The third bowl

Fiction By Emma Katherine // 9/26/2013

Sarah asked me to tell her a story, at eleven thirty at night, so this is what I came up with. On the spot. Unedited. But it's short.

Once upon a time there was a little old man and a little old woman. They were both very old and very sweet. One day the little old man went down the hill to catch some fish for dinner and the little old woman went down to the porch to knit something warm since it was nearly winter. She was mildly surprised to hear someone say 'How!' She looked up, put her hand to her ear and said 'how's that? What did you say dear?' She was very deaf and very blind. It was an Indian that came onto the porch.
'Me very hungry.' 'Oh yes, the stew is boiling and will be ready any minute. How bout you bring it out and we'll have some supper.'
As they were about to eat, she thinking the Indian was the old man, the old man came up and said, 'I'm hungry,' and she said, 'well, where's supper?' He handed her the fish and she jumped up. 'No no! These are still cold. I'll go heat them. The the Indian handed her a bowl of stew and she said 'oh, thank you, that was fast!' The old man, to blind to see the Indian said 'well is it ready dear?' 'Yes, sit down.' They all sat down, said the prayer and ate. Then the Indian walked away after saying thank you, and the little old man and the little old woman never did find out why there was a third bowl to wash. The end


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