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A Fluffy House

Daily Prompt: Mad Libs – Turn to your co-workers, kids, Facebook friends, family — anyone who’s accessible — and ask them to suggest an article, an adjective, and a noun. There’s your post title! Now write.

I wasn’t at work yesterday so I sent my friend three separate texts and he sent back “fluffy”, “a” and “house”. Hmm.

The Parable of A Fluffy House

Samuel took one last look in the mirror. Hair – check. Tie – correctly fastened. Shirt – immaculately pressed. Everything in order.

Samuel was a vain man. Arrogant and conceited, he was always perfectly dressed, spending upwards of an hour checking his appearance before leaving the house. A man of indeterminate age, opinions ranged from mid-thirties to early fifties.

An architect by trade, he had created a house designed to set him apart from the rest. Boasting twelve bedrooms, three bathrooms and a kitchen a chef would be proud of, it nestled against a hillside two miles outside of town.

All of this was nothing compared to the house’s crowning glory. Samuel smiled as he stroked the outside of the house. Soft, fluffy.

He had looked at other houses. The houses belonging to lesser people – people who were not him. They looked so bland. Concrete, brick, wood. This would not do. Samuel had covered the outside of his house, his masterpiece, with the softest and most luxuriant of fabrics.

People came from miles around to see his house. His house!  They would take pictures (for a reasonable price, of course). They would spend time touching the fabric, running their fingers through the soft, deep fibres covering the walls (discounts available for parties over five persons).

Samuel was the envy of all. He basked in the adoration of the admiring crowds. He had reached his pinnacle!

Then the rains came. At first only a few solitary drops, then a heavy deluge. It rained day after day. The fabric covering Samuel’s house grew wetter and wetter, heavier and heavier.

The walls creaked. The timbers shook.

Three days after the rains began, Samuel’s house, his creation, the ultimate extension of his towering ego, slowly, almost gently, collapsed in upon itself under its own weight, until it was nothing more than a mound of wood and extremely expensive, extremely wet fabric.

People still came from miles around, not to admire but to laugh at Samuel’s house. At his foolishness.

And the moral of this story?

“Practicality before pride”

or

The carpets go on the inside, dumb ass!”

  1. Serena
    May 3, 2013 at 7:51 am

    I LOVE LOVE LOVE this…. it’s so good and funny and has a moral too. I’d like to reblog it but I don’t get too many readers so there’s not much point. It would make a good kids story with slight adaptations don’t you think!?

    Like

    • May 3, 2013 at 8:07 am

      Thanks so much! You’re right, it could be adapted into a children’s story. Now there’s an idea for a new blog…
      Feel free to reblog if you wish! Thinking of your readers, I just noticed that when your comment email came through the “URL” still links to your old WordPress blog (the “like” email with “recent posts you might like” is correct).
      I don’t know how one changes that but your posts are great and it would be a shame if people can’t find you.

      Like

      • Serena
        May 3, 2013 at 8:33 am

        Hmm…. I have never recieved an email to say I got a comment at wordpress because it’s easier just to see the orange ‘speech bubble’ but I’ll check it out, I’ve had so many blogs under different names and identities I really don’t know who I am now. I should be serenazone now (I dropped the Stillwater) Thanks

        Like

  2. Gilraen
    May 3, 2013 at 3:43 pm

    Wonderful story. I now have an image in my head of people stroking the fluffy house. The image is hilarious

    Like

    • May 3, 2013 at 3:52 pm

      It was wonderfully soft, so I’m told. Shame it collapsed 🙂

      Like

  3. May 3, 2013 at 5:18 pm

    Wonderful work on this prompt, draliman 🙂

    Like

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