Chapter 1.
The Piece of Wood that Laughed and Cried.
This is not a story about a great and brave king.
Little ones,
It is not a tale about a princess.
No.
Believe it or not, it is a story about a piece of wood, and not even a fancy piece of wood at that, just a simple, solid little log, the kind that makes cold rooms cozier when placed into roaring fireplaces in the winter.
This particular piece of wood happened to live in a little carpentry shop owned by a Mr Antonio whose nose was so round and red and ripe-looking that some people called him Mr Cherry after the fruit.
Mr. Antonio had big plans for that little piece of wood.
He intended to turn it into a leg for his coffee table.
But just as he raised his axe and was about to chop, he heard a tiny little voice say Oh please, not too hard.
Mr. Antonio spun around, but he couldn't see who had spoken.
He looked under his workbench, inside the closet and even sifted through a pile of sawdust, but he found no one opened the door and looked up and down the street.
Still no one.
Deciding that he had imagined it, Mr. Antonio raised his axe again.
This time he struck the wood.
Oh, wailed the same wee voice.
This was too much for Mr. Antonio.
He was so scared now that his eyes bulged like balloons.
His stuttering mouth fell open and his tongue hung out over his lower lip.
"'Is there someone hiding inside this wood?' he shrieked.
"'If so, I'll fix you!'
Mr Antonio threw the wood on the floor, then smashed it against the walls and even banged it against the ceiling.
"'What do you have to say about that?' he asked, feeling slightly silly to be talking to a piece of wood.
There was no reply.
Mr Antonio sat perfectly still and waited for an additional ten minutes, but there was still nothing.
I did imagine it, he concluded with relief.
Taking some sandpaper, Mr. Antonio began to smooth and shape the cut wood.
And wouldn't you know it, the little voice came back.
This time it was giggling.
Stop it, it said.
That sandpaper tickles my sensitive skin.
This was the last straw.
Poor Mr Antonio was so confused and upset that he fell to the floor.
His bright red nose turning blue.
At that moment, Mr. Cherry looked more like Mr. Blueberry.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
It was Mr. Antonio's friend, Geppetto.
Geppetto was a jolly old man with a nickname of his own.
The boys in the neighborhood teased him and called him Polendina the Italian word for polenta because his yellow wig looked like a bowl of that cornmeal mush.
Geppetto hated this nickname and flew into a rage whenever anyone used it.
Of course, this only made people do it more often.
My friend, Geppetto asked Mr. Antonio as he entered, what are you doing on the floor?
What do you think I'm doing?
Teaching the ants the alphabet, Mr. Antonio joked.
I fell down.
What brings you here?
My legs, Geppetto joked back.
I have something very exciting to tell you.
I've decided to make a puppet. one that can dance and do flips in the air.
Together we will travel the world and become rich and famous.
What do you think?
Sounds like a great plan, Polandina, yelled You-Know-Who.
Geppetto's face turned bright red.
What did you call me? he asked his friend.
I didn't say a word, Mr. Antonio replied truthfully.
You called me Polendina, Geppetto growled.
Mr. Antonio said, no, I didn't.
Yes, you did, Geppetto yelled.
This happened a few times, the men growing angrier every time.
Eventually, the words turned to blows and bites, slaps and kicks and shrieks and scratches.
When the fight was over, the men realized that each was holding the other's wig.
Let's give each other back our hair, Mr. Antonio suggested.
Good idea, my friend, Geppetto replied, and soon each man's hair was his own again.
Listen, Mr. Antonio said.
I have just the thing for the puppet you were planning to make.
Mr. Antonio went to his bench to get the piece of wood.
Just as he was about to hand it over however, it slipped out of his hands and violently smacked Geppetto in the shins.
"'What kind of friend hits another with a piece of wood?'
Geppetto asked.
I didn't do it, Mr. Antonio said.
Yes, you did, Geppetto shouted.
It was the woods' fault, not mine.
Mr Antonio insisted, and even though I didn't do so before, if you don't believe me, I will call you Polendina.
Geppetto promptly called Mr. Antonio an idiot, a donkey, and an extremely ugly monkey.
Mr. Antonio stuck to Polandina.
And another fight started.
When it was over, both wigs were still on their rightful heads, but the bodies below them had many bruises and the shirts had quite a few missing buttons.
We're getting too old for this, Geppetto said, dusting himself off.
Yes, we are.
The two friends were finally in agreement, and with that Geppetto took his new piece of wood and happily limped home.
