Old Gepetto has one eye. And only I knows how he lost the other. You heard tell of that thing he had, a wooden toy that spoke truth and walked around without strings. Whatever magic it had went bad. Toy got him drunk one night and tripped him. And it stared in that eye, nose pointed like a javelin as it said over and over,
"I love you, papa. I love you papa."
Next day I came to deliver the firewood, same as ever. Old Gepetto didn't buy. He had a patch, bloody, over his eye.
No comments:
Post a Comment