The wrong troop

Reminiscing the good old days growing up by the farm, Joe smiled. Gardening with grandpa and chasing the hens, life was good. But there was one thing he could not fathom as a child. Why was he the only red skinned in the land of brown skins?

All the guys in school made fun of him. Little Joe always cried when he got back home. Mamma always told him that he was special, hence the colour. His brother always made fun of him that he was picked up from a far away land. Joe went on to read about the Native American’s with red skin. But here he is, miles away from America and none of his parents have passports. Perhaps, this will always be a mystery he thought. He began to breed on Mamma’s stories that he was special. May be he was the blessed one?

The day came when Joe and his brother had to leave for college. They kissed Mamma goodbye and went their way. Half way through, Joe gets excited. For the first time, he see somebody just like him! He signals to stop the cart, gets off and walks to the person and in excitement and asks him as to how he got to the country. The puzzled old man tells him that there are a lot like him back in the village. Joe is taken aback. Was he not the special one? But he was also excited to see his kind. The old man agrees to take Joe and his brother along.

Entering the village, Joe had mixed feelings. He might just get to know about himself but also prove that his uniqueness was after all a myth. But what he did not expect was a grand welcome. The old man instantly recognised Joe to be the lost son, as he questioned a lot. Turns out little Joe questioned a lot as a kid. One day a big giant walked into their farm with a bat. L’ill  Joe questioned him so much that he got vexed, picked him us and smashed him with the bat to a far away land. He landed at mamma’s porch. She could not find anyone to adopt him and took him to be her own.

Thus the l’ill tomato Joe grew up in a farm of potatoes. Smiling, l’ill Joe, now big Joe picked up the mirror and still saw a special person in the mirror. Turns his head and kisses his potato wife.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s