Why The Owl Never Sings
Once upon a time, the Creator was in bed. It was a nice bed from Mattress Man™ with four pillows. But I shouldn’t be telling you about the Creator’s mattress, because this story is about why the owl never sings. So, the Creator was in bed but he couldn’t get to sleep because of the racket that the birds were making. Remember, this is before birds could sing, so they made a hoarse squealing noise. The Creator decided that, the next day, he would go to see the birds of the world and give them all the songbooks in his library so that they can talk in song and sing him to sleep at the same time.
The next day, the Creator gathered the birds of the world together in a forest clearing, and told them to form a queue. The queue was so long that the Creator got a bit scared that it may take years and years until he finished giving songbooks to the birds.
At the back of the queue, the Owl was being very kind and letting every other bird go before him. He had taken a picnic and a good book to pass the time.
Hours passed (three, to be precise!) and Owl had eventually arrived at the front of the line, but there were NO SONGBOOKS LEFT!!!
“Hoot!” cried the Creator “I’m so, so sorry, Owl, but I’m out of songbooks!”
Owl couldn’t find anything to say. He felt a lump forming in his throat and he struggled to hold it back. “Go home, Owl, and come back in the morning and I’ll Hoot! I’ll sort something out for you.” hooted the Creator.
“O.K, Mr.Creator, Sir.” And Owl went home.
Owl lay in bed, unable to go to sleep. He was listening to all the birds of the world, practising their favourite songs. He turned over restlessly, but still couldn’t sleep.
The Creator was also lying in bed, thinking what he could give to Owl - £10?...a packet of crisps?...a paper-clip?... a holiday to the south of France?...Spider Man 3™ on DVD?...a watch?...I’ve got it! Wisdom! Or maybe a bed from Mattress Man™? NO! Wisdom.
One looooooong, sleepless night later, Owl was knocking at the Creator’s door. The Creator poked his head out of a window, “I’ll just be a moment!” he told Owl, who stood outside, patiently, for another ten minutes whilst the Creator ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and finally, rushed to the door and Owl.
When he arrived at his door, he asked Owl to step inside. Owl liked it inside the Creator’s house. It was… well indescribable! The Creator took him into a strange-looking room at the centre of the house, closed the curtains and… Everything went black.
“Hoot!” “Hoot!” The noise came again. “Hoot!” What was making the sound? “Hoot!” Was it the Creator? He hooted all the time! No…It’s……ME!
Owl had woken up to find that he was an awful lot cleverer than before! “I gave you some of my wisdom! And I Hoot! Seem to have given you some of my hoots as well!” the Creator informed Owl.
“Oh, HOOT! Mr.Creator, Sir!”
“What is the mean of 9,999.5, 3328, 4487 and 5.87?”
“4455.0925, Mr.Creator, Sir HOOT!”
When Owl arrived home, he found a crowd of birds waiting for him. “What’s up?” he asked.
All the birds started talking at once in their new singsong voices. “One at a time! You there, what are you here for?”
The little bird (a song thrush) spoke in a higher voice than the rest, “I think I speak for all of the birds here.” he told Owl. “We would like to know what your song is like.”
“It goes… HOOT!”
And that is why the Owl never sings.
