Once upon a time, long, long ago in a land far, far away, nothing was happening. Life was as boring as could be. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. Everyone was reasonably happy. Everyone had enough money to get by. No one was too rich or too poor, had too much or too little to eat. Everyone had just enough work to keep them going and the homework from school was little enough for the children not to complain. All in all everything was pretty dull. But then no one complained about this, no one ever gave it a thought to do anything about it, no one was bothered in the slightest.

Then there was a group of radical teenagers, well radical for this time and place. They always stayed out a minute later than anyone else, argued one more time with their parents and drove a mile faster than everyone else. Not that anyone minded or really bothered, it would only upset things and might even add a little excitement to life.

This was until one day, which was not too warm, or too cold, too sunny or too windy, a pretty girl, not that she was that pretty of course, came into one of the plain ordinary villages. The village was not too big or too small, too dirty or too neat, it was just like every other ordinary village everywhere else. There was not even anything special about the path she walked along into the village. The path was not too long or too short, too straight or too crooked, too dusty or too damp. It was just another boring path like all the other boring paths on this damn boring world.

There was not even anything special about what the girl was wearing. Just a normal dress, not too flowery, nor too plain, too short or too long, too low cut or too high cut. But as she walked through the village every one gave her extraordinary looks. It was not even her hair; it was not too long or too short, too wavy or too straight, too dark or too light. It was not even her face, arms, legs, feet or any other part of her body; it was all just too ordinary but they still all looked at her. It was not really her they were looking at all; it was what she carried in her arms. At first glance it looked ordinary too, whiskers, not too long or too wiry, legs not too fat or too skinny, the fur was not too thick or too thin and its purr was just as ordinary as everything else. A second glance the cat looked most un-ordinary; it was a very ordinary shade, just not for a cat, blue is a very un-ordinary colour for a cat.

The cat jumped out of the little girls arms and started to walk around. The people began to smile, the sun began to shine and the baker began selling bread. These are all ordinary things for an ordinary village, they were just all happening a little more.
The people were happy they could smile a little more.
The people were happy the sun was shining brighter.
The people were not happy that the baker was charging more for his bread.

With the rising price of bread one of the radical teenagers had an idea, an idea that would never have come to him before the price of bread went up. Tonight he would not go home until really, really late. As other ideas began to form in the other villagers heads the un-ordinary cat jumped back into the little girl’s arms. The little girl gave a little unordinary smile then walked out of the village on the ordinary path to the next ordinary village.

(Written 28/09/98)