A Midnight’s Yule Dream Christmas Card

Once upon a Christmas slumber, as we slept amid some thunder,

Thunder though, it wasn’t at all, it was a green, red and white UFO come to call.

Up we went into the sky, Jacque and nobody else but I.

We shot up high and flew over each of your homes,

And wished you a Merry Christmas, you probably thought we were a drone.

 

It was then that we saw Santa Claus fly by, with four polar bears and a reindeer at his side.

Ho! Ho! Ho! St. Nick laughed as he shot through the sky. He looked to be a right jolly guy.

On Hector, Go Ralph, Run Mookie, Fly Sam, he prodded the polar bears and they ran and they ran.

Then our UFO took us up by the moon, whose face was all funny as if he had eaten a prune.

 

Finally, our craft flew under a star, the biggest, the brightest, ever seen from near or afar.

A monitor lit up and we saw such a scene, a baby in a manger, oh what a dream!

Angels sang Peace on Earth, and Goodwill to all women and men, wishes we extend to you all our very dear friends.

The baby represents all that is pure; He left us the gift of gold in the form of a simple rule:

“So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you.”

That’s what Jesus taught us; it is true.

 

Christmas time, Oh Christmas time,

When dreams of sugar plums dance in our heads, when children sleep all snug in their beds,

When dreams of UFOs are a delight, when cities are lit up with Christmas lights.

We wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays too. Whatever you celebrate, it’s OK with us two.

Lots of love from David and Jacque Madrid; You may think this dream merely a fib.

But Christmas season is a magical time, and I’ve got a picture to go with my rhymes.

 

NOTE: A special thanks to artist Vincent Rogers, who drew the Santa and polar bear sleigh for the story “Rufus the Snot-Nosed Reindeer: The Reckoning.”

Read the first of the two-story series: “Rufus the Snot-Nosed Reindeer.”

That’s Football

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So much fun from a sphere-shaped ball.

Was it really called a pigskin?

Yes, but there’s nothing the matter

With the old pig bladder

That history called a football.

A well-thrown pass

And a field of grass

Beats all the games kids play.

I’m the quarterback. No it’s me.

What fun it is to argue with thee.

I throw the ball; you catch it and run;

He tackles you. You fall on your bum.

There is no clock to kill the time.

Just get the ball across the line.

Touchdown!

Really, no other game will do;

We play unhampered by an officiating crew.

Oh yes, such fun

It is to run,

To kick the ball, and catch it too,

To play the game with a friend such as you.

That’s when football is at its best.

When play is so fun we forget to rest.

That’s football.

By David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

Green Eggs and Ham and a Tortilla Too

Green Eggs and Ham and a Tortilla Too new

 

Green Eggs and Ham and Tortilla Too

I tried to impress the little guys

By making hippo porridge with some wormy fries.

They weren’t impressed, they told me so;

Therefore I cooked some pigeon toes.

“Nope,” they said. “They look so bland.”

So I cooked them aardvark pasta mixed with sand.

They turned their noses at the thought of that.

So I offered some amoeba cheesecake soaked in fat.

“No. No. No.” They insisted to me;

“You don’t understand what it is that we need.”

So I whipped up a batch of green eggs and ham;

I added a burnt tortilla and held the spam.

“How about this?” I asked, my spirits high.

I got a look that would chill Capt. Bligh.

“You’re going to eat that?” asked the oldest one.

“Yes,” I said. “It should be quite fun.”

So I ate green eggs and ham and a tortilla too,

“Yuck!” said the boys, finally impressed at the things I can do.

By David Madrid with apologies

To Dr. Seuss

Contact: David Madrid

The Peninsula of Toys

The Peninsula of Toys

peninsula of toys

The peninsula of toys
Moves piece by piece
Down the hall.
A four-armed alien wrestler
Is joined by Spider Man and triceratops.
They reach out from the wall
Growing as the peninsula of toys.
The playthings of
Four little boys.
Toys cluster and grow
They move about.
A basketball bounces
A semi loses its trailer
T. rex skeleton chews a black clip-on tie
Yellow baseball bat wishes for a ball
In the end, they join
They grow
They move about
They creep out from the wall
They form the peninsula of toys
Made of the things of little boys.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

Aesop

Who was Aesop?

It depends which story you believe, but one version is that he was a deformed, stuttering Greek slave in the 6th century B.C. who was granted the gift of crafting fables by the goddess Isis.

The magic of Isis transformed Aesop into the legendary fabulist whose stories live on because of their timeless lessons.

Aesop’s fables have been told and retold throughout history. You can find different versions of the same story among different cultures.

In the end, according to one version, Aesop was thrown off a cliff by the people of Delphi, who then suffered pestilence and famine. Whether true or not, I like to imagine that Isis used her powers to curse those who dared kill the legendary storyteller.

David Madrid, president of FabulousFables.com, is a storyteller who also writes fables. While impossible to compete with Aesop, the greatest fabulist of all time, this website offers fables that we hope teach lessons that both children and adults will recognize and consider.

FabulousFables.com will occasionally offer you its version of Aesop’s fables.

We love the fable, and we thank Aesop for showing us the way.

365px-Aesop_woodcut_Spain_1489[1]

A woodcut from La vida del Ysopet con sus fabulas historiadas (Spain, 1489) depicting a hunchbacked Aesop surrounded by events from the stories in Planudes’ version of his life.

Woodcut image from Wikipedia

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

The Stuck Truck

The Stuck Truck

It was the driver’s bad luck

That the truck got stuck

As he drove beneath the overpass.

Slightly wedged, he hit the gas,

And jammed the truck in tight.

So they called far and wide for experts who were bright,

Engineers with brilliant minds,

A solution they would surely find.

An expert said: “We can use some floor-to-ceiling jacks

“To raise the overpass.”

But with each lift of a jack

The arch that held the bridge cracked.

“We can cut off the top of the truck with a saw,”

Was another idea with a serious flaw.

Two geniuses discussed breaking apart the road above.

“It will loosen the arch just enough.”

People gathered on the bridge and looked down.

“Oh my, what will they do?” they fretted and frowned.

But a young boy nearby licking a sucker

Said: “I know how to help the troubled trucker.

“Why don’t you deflate the tires on the truck?

“I’ll wager that the truck will drop and become unstuck.”

For all those brains that had traveled for miles,

None saw the problem through the eyes of a child.

And so dear readers, remember the lesson

Taught so long ago by Ralph Waldo Emerson:

That it doesn’t matter who you meet

When you are walking down the street.

That person can teach you a thing or two

Even if the person is old or a youth.

The End

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

“In my walks, every man I meet is my superior in some way, … in that I learn from him.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Philosopher, Poet, Essayist

May 25, 1803 – April 27, 1882

Litter

garbage 1

Litter

What an evil curse upon the earth is litter.

Thrown from the window of a moving car. Tossed on the ground at the city park. Dumped into the desert from the back of a truck.

Litter is a most grievous blot upon the land, upon our waters.

Litter grows. It multiplies. It’s ugly. It’s horrid. It’s sick.

We’re sick, those of us who practice litter. We spew garbage upon our very souls.

Once upon a time, we practiced keeping America beautiful. Now, we practice dumping waste, pumping waste, scattering waste.

We eat waste. We drink it. We die with its mark upon our soul.

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The answer is simple. Pick it up. Pack it in; pack it out. Don’t dump.

Keep America beautiful. Keep our earth beautiful. Keep your soul beautiful.

I’m counting on you. You can count on me.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

The Pond

The bird stands by the pond, and I don’t know what kind of a bird it is.

The pond is at the end of an irrigation ditch, and that little body of water is popular with the feathered population.

I see them sitting out there in the water, and I see them hanging around the ditches and fields: fleet roadrunners, burrowing owls, duck, geese, egrets, blue herons, and best of all, magnificent soaring raptors. I don’t know if they are hawks or falcons.

The bird by the pond is about 18 inches tall. It has a short body and long neck. It is brown. I haven’t seen a bird like this before.

bird and pond

Out there by the pond, I see them hang around. Webbed-footed birds float on the water. I see quail scurry along the ditches and run through the fields. I see a quail mother fake injury to sacrifice herself for her fleeing young.

I see four ugly buzzards that take a couple of weeks to devour the carcass of what appears to be a dead porcupine.

I don’t know if it is a porcupine. The smell keeps me at a distance. Not to mention, I don’t want to disturb the vultures that so diligently feast on the shrinking rodent.

Yes, there is beauty out there at the pond and along the artery that feeds it.

The pond always has water. Occasionally, the pond gets thirsty, but then a great burst of rain or flowing irrigation fills it again.

The pond holds enough water that migratory birds of all feathers make it a point to drop by and float awhile. At least until they see me.

buzzard

Out there by the open fields where farmers grow their crops, there is beauty, even in the carcass of a porcupine and the ugly birds that feed upon it.

David Madrid

Email: David Madrid

Hello world!

Welcome to FabulousFables.com. This site is your place to come for original stories written by me, David Madrid. I am a writer and storyteller. I hope to share my positive fables and stories with you. Whether you are an adult or child, my stories will appeal to you.

I have just begun to build this site, so have patience with me, and check back regularly for new stories and blog posts.

Read El Chupacabra, a horror story featuring the mythical goat sucker of Latino lore.

Thank you for your interest.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid