The most important story ever

​She moves slowly toward him through the crowd. ​Soon, if everything goes as expected, then the parents of the couple will be grandparents. She steps beyond the edge of the crowd and continues closer to him. When the couple finally does embrace, the crowd begins stomping on the ground and cheering and hollering.

However, not everyone was cheering. One youngster had been quietly lying in bed and listening to this story before going to sleep. Suddenly, the child sat up and asked a very serious question. Of course, this was a very important question, or the child would not be asking it, right?

“But what did her hair look like? Was it shining in the sunlight? Was it waving in the wind? Don’t you even know the right way to tell this story? Seriously, how can she just walk right up to him if her hair is not right?”

These could be the kind of questions that required another glass of water first before they could be properly addressed. So, the child went to get some water while the storyteller consulted the sacred book of important stories and waited for the child to return.

“Well, it says here that her hair was down to her shoulders, but that is about it.” The storyteller then turned to face the child and asked, “What exactly do you think is most important about her hair?”

“First of all, her hair was absolutely beautiful. For instance, her hair made the sunlight look very pretty- not just cute like your hair. Also, as she walked, each step made her hair dance on her shoulders. There was no wind at all, so you could really see the rhythm of her footsteps just by looking at her hair. Obviously, that is what is really matters. I don’t get it though because I thought you knew how this story should go.”

“Dear me,” said the storyteller, “you are quite right. I was telling you the story a short way and so I did leave out some details. Thank you for saying so and correcting me.”
“You’re welcome. You need to get it right, though, so it is a good thing that I am here. Now,” the child said, “what is that book you are holding in your hands? It does not even have any pictures in it. That must be very boring.”


​ “This? Oh, well this is the sacred book of important stories,” said the storyteller. “It contains writing that repeats the stories that people used to say out loud.”

“Okay, yes, right. I know all about that book,” the child revealed. “Now that the stories are written down in to that book, is that what makes them so important?”

The storyteller placed one finger right over the top lip and tapped it there a few times and then said, “We can check the book. Let’s see what it says about that, okay?”

The storyteller flipped through the pages, looking for the sections on Isaiah or Jesus. However, this was not going as fast as hoped. So, the storyteller decided to check the internet.

“I’ll see if I can find the one thing about worshiping with lips. There is also the other thing about the truth being written in the heart. Just wait for a minute there while this browser loads, okay?”

The child was impatient. “How can a story be more important just because it has been written down? First, people say the story out loud, then someone writes it down and people read it loud or read it silently. It is still the same story, though, right? To say that writing it down makes it more important does not make any sense. That is like saying that the same story becomes important just because it is put on a website. The story may get to be well-known because someone records themselves reading it and loads it on to youtube, but that is not what makes the story valid as in valuable. The story is just as valid whether it is spoken, written, or recorded as an audio.”

The storyteller was impressed. “Again, you are quite right. What you said is basically the same thing that Isaiah said, except of course that Isaiah did not speak using our modern language.”

“But if he had used modern language,” the child asked, “then that sure would have been a lot smarter of him, right?”

“Smarter?” the storyteller repeated. “In this case, what exactly do you mean by smarter?”

“Duh,” said the child between sips of water. “Smarter means easier for me to understand!”

Suddenly, another child, whom everyone else presumed to have been sleeping, spoke up from the other side of the room. “How old was she?”

This was slightly off-topic, so the storyteller asked “do you mean the cow that was walking through the crowd up to the bull?”

“Yes,” said the other child. “I’m talking about the cow with the beautiful shoulder-length hair that walks up to the bull and then everyone stomps on the ground in celebration because they are about to mate.”

“What does mate mean?” asked the first child. “Is that related to boats like the first mate or is that related to chess like when I win the game by declaring a checkmate?”

The storyteller said “what is really important, my dear children, is that the cow was old enough to mate. Trust me on that. As for the word ‘mate’ itself, it is related to the word mother and basically it means to make a female in to a mother. The word ‘mate’ is also related to the words maternity and matrimony and marriage.”
“That is just your opinion. These cows should respect our traditions,” said one of the children. “I still think that one cow was way too young. Frankly, it is disgusting that such a young cow would be mating at that age. I find it disturbing and insulting. We need to put an immediate stop to those frightening and primitive practices. I hope that hearing this tragic story does not make me vomit.”
The other child attempted to help with a few simple words. “This is a story from a long time ago, so relax, okay? I do not know if it is even a true story.”

“Yeah, but last year, there were at least 100 similar cases within 5,000 miles of us,” one child shouted. “Those cows must be mentally ill. They are hysterical. They are breaking the commandments of God and if we do not stop them right away, then they are probably going to spark another apocalypse!”

“You sound paranoid, dude,” said one child to another. “You need to shut up or else I am going to tell on you.”

“Children, calm down,” said the storyteller, punctuating each word by smacking one of the children on the cheek. “Stop… arguing… right… now!”



Suddenly, the bull turned to the cow and said, “the way that you walk is so sexy. However, I am a bit nervous about what everyone else will think of me, so I am telling you about it instead of doing something about it.”
“Sexy?” the cow hissed. “Is that where your mind is at in a time like this?”
“A time like what?” said the bull. “You’re not really worried about what those kids are saying about you, are you?”

“No, you idiot.” said the cow. “Those kids do have electric cattle prods and so they deserve respect, but that is not what concerns me right now. Can’t you see the clouds and feel the storm coming?”

The bull actually had been focused on the way that the cow was walking and had not noticed the dark clouds approaching. “Wow, that looks serious,” said the bull.

“It is serious!” The cow insisted. “While you are over here quietly condemning the human children for being naive and belligerent religious fanatics, we are about to get drenched. So what are you going to do about it?”

“Wait, how did you know that I was quietly condemning those human children?” the bull wondered. “I never said anything out loud about them at all.”

“I know you,” said the cow. “I could see it written on your face.”

“What?” said the bull. “I looked in the mirror a minute ago when the kid went to the bathroom to get some water. There was nothing written on my face.”

“You can be so literal sometimes,” said the cow. “I don’t mean written on your face like with a marker. I mean your facial expressions. It’s in your forehead and in your shoulders. You are nervous about those kids and their electric cattle prods.”

“No!” said the bull. “I mean, why would I be… hey, you’re not saying that I am scared are you?”

 “Of course not. Why would I bother saying that. You would just deny it anyway. By the way, did you notice though that you just peed on yourself while we were talking?”
“Huh?” said the bull. “That? No that’s not urine. That’s, uh, that’s probably just some water that splashed up on me when I accidentally stepped in a puddle earlier.”
“Look, just forget it,” said the cow. “What are you going to do about the storm coming our way?”
“Uh,” said the bull. “I condemn it. It should not be like that. And um… and I blame the humans.”

“What kind of a bull are you? I need a real bull who is going to treat me like a real cow deserves to be treated. You have read too many books and listened to too many lectures about how to get to heaven. Today, when I need a real bull, you are here talking about who is to blame for the storm that is coming!”

“Honey, I thought…” said the bull, “look, isn’t this is what you wanted? I was just trying to please you, dear.”

“Stop!” said the cow with the beautiful shoulder-length hair. “Just stop trying to please me all the time. Where are your balls?”

“Slow down. What kind of balls are you talking about, dear? There were a couple of dances in the barn last month and those were called balls, like with ballroom dancing. Is that what you mean? Honey? Why are you walking away? Please come back!”

“What did the bull do wrong?” asked one of the human children. “How was the bull even supposed to stop the clouds from raining on them?”

The other child said, “it was not that the bull was supposed to stop the clouds. That is just the topic that the cow used to distract the bull. The bull was already confused and then the cow used that pre-existing confusion to lay a huge guilt trip on him as she withdrew. By cultivating confusion, anxiety, and disorientation in the bull, she symbolically castrated him with shame and paranoia.”

“Well,” said the storyteller, “if the cow was just messing with the bull’s head on purpose, then that would have been deceptive and dishonest. Do you really think that a cow would do something like that?”

“Cows are always nice in all the stories that I have heard,” answered one of the children. “I cannot imagine a dishonest cow. That is impossible. I reject the idea as invalid. No further research is relevant. I already know it is all a bunch of bull crap. Also, what does castrated mean?”

“Oh, castration is kind of like decapitation,” said the storyteller. “Do you know what that is?”

“Of course I do,” said that child. “Decapitation is when you are wearing a cap and then your older brother knocks it off of your head just to annoy you.”

“Well, there could be other meanings for that word,” said the storyteller. “However, it is close enough to say that in the end of the story, it was almost like the cow was knocking the bull’s cap off of his head as she ran away so that he would pay attention to his cap and not to her. Does that make sense?”

“Hey, that reminds me. You never actually said how old the cow was,” stated the other child. “Is this your way of you trying to avoid that issue?”
“The cow was 16 and had the written permission of her parents,” said the storyteller. “There, now are you satisfied?”

“Okay, but how old was the bull? Had he ever been married before? If so, was he still married or had he gotten a divorce. I am only asking because my own father ruined my life by divorcing my mom 5 years ago and then marrying some slut with shoulder-length hair which is how all sluts wear their hair.”

“Thanks for asking. The bull was also 16 and had never been married,” said the storyteller. “Now, you need to go to bed and stop accidentally knocking the decapitations off of your younger sister’s head.”

“But that’s not what you said last week,” said the other child. “You said that the bull was married to 4 other cows already.”

“You’re right. That is what I said. However, that was not the same bull,” said the Storyteller. “Also, the cow in that story had hair past her shoulders, remember?”
“Oh yeah, plus the wind was blowing and it was raining on them,” said the child. “That was a totally different story from the sacred book of important stories that have not been written down yet, but are recorded as audio and uploaded to youtube.”

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