The Lonesome Road

The weary traveller had seen many things in his long, long journey but none compared to the sight of that cabin on the hill with an inviting plume of smoke coming from it’s stone chimney.

As the traveller approached the front door, he was greeted by an old soul, the owner of the cabin.  “Folks call me Old Ben, but you can just call me Clarence” said the kind stranger.

Clarence invited the traveler in to warm himself by the fire.  While the old man was getting them two cups of Joe, the traveller took the opportunity to look around.  Upon closer inspection, it appeared that the house was centuries old and smelled of prunes.

Clarence entered the living room and offered the traveller a cup.  “Here’s to confetti and applesauce dreams” he said with a chuckle.  He tipped his cup back like he was going to down it with one gulp but instead the contents of the mug spilled all over his face and down the front of him.  He stared at the traveller with a twinkling grin but the traveller could tell that he was trying not to scream from the pain of the scalding hot coffee.

As the traveller looked down into his cup, he noticed that it was not filled with coffee but with cut up pieces of construction paper and what appeared to be cinnamon applesauce.  He pretended to drink it but was only able to swallow about 3 or 4 of the pieces of the paper.

The traveller was beginning to think that he had over stayed his welcome and started inching towards the door.  That is when he realized that the old man had somehow tied his shoelaces together and that is why he was inching rather than walking.  The traveller again tried not to notice and slowly tried to shuffle his way outside.  The old man also apparently removed the traveller’s belt because his pants kept shimmying down his legs.  He didn’t want the old man to think anything was wrong so he just let them fall down around his ankles.  The old man just smiled away and the traveller could see sweat starting to drip off his wrinkley forehead.  That coffee was hot!

The traveller continued on like that for about a mile or so.  When he was sure that he was out of sight of the cabin, he ate the remaining pieces of paper and began whistling that same old, sad song and shuffled his way on down the trail.