The roof and the walls argued over whose task was more important.
“Just try to keep out the rain without me,” said the roof. “For that, walls are no good whatsoever!”
“Without us you wouldn’t keep anything out,” the walls said. “You wouldn’t even be a roof at all.”
“But there have to be several of you to work. One wall isn’t enough, or even two, especially to hold me,” the roof replied.
None of them cared at all about the floor, who listened to the argument for a while and then remarked:
“And I have the modest duty of holding that whole silly lot on my shoulders!”
The Wheel of Life
“You are always getting underfoot,” the Minute Hand complained to the Second Hand, who was scuttling past.
“Time flies, and I don’t want to waste any second. I must run like the wind! Wheeeee!” the Second Hand called out.
“Come on, hurry up! Move along,” the Minute Hand grumbled at the slow-moving Hour Hand.
“At my age, you don’t have to stress. Leave the young ones to it and just take care of your own business,” the Hour Hand muttered.
But when the appointed hour comes, no one asks how far each hand has come. When time runs out, everything comes to a halt anyway.
The Bottle woke up in a patch of sand, remembering nothing of the night before. There it stood, buried up to its neck, and eyed passers-by with disdain.
“I hope someone worthy of me will pick me up before my cork crumbles, because I really know how to wear a label and I still have a lot to give. And I am not full of myself, whatever people may say. It’s just that one should look after what he has within. It is not good to pour one’s heart out to just anyone.”
Unfortunately the Bottle could not see what was transparent to everyone else: the poor thing was quite empty inside.