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Date Posted: 06:50:54 04/22/03 Tue
Author: The Messenger
Subject: This one's for the birds

The man known only as "The Messenger" sits on a park bench on a warm spring day. Pigeons flock around him as he tosses handfuls of breadcrumbs from a small paper bag. The man is wearing a brown trenchcoat and a large-brimmed hat that covers his face. As before, he speaks in a deep whisper of a voice.

A wise man once told me a story. It was about a little girl who had three evil step-sisters. These step-sisters tortured her, and made her life a living hell until she finally couldn't take it any more, and ran away. She ran off, into the forest, where she met a woodcutter. Breaking down into tears, the girl told the woodcutter about her horrible step-sisters, and he even more horrible step-mother. The woodcutter sympathized with the girl and told her that he would help.

Another handful of breadcrumbs from the bag causes a stir of action from the birds.

While the girl sat, sobbing on a stump, the woodcutter picked up his large axe, and walked back to the girl's home. He knocked on the door and when the girl's step-mother answered, he chopped her head clean off. The three horrible step-sisters came out, screaming and crying, until the woodcutter chopped the heads off all three of them with a single swing. The woodcutter looked around, then wiped his hands and returned to the forest to tell the girl that her life would be better from here on out. When he got back to where he had left her, the woodcutter found that the little girl was gone. He later found out that the little girl was always running away and that her step-sisters and step-mother had spent all night looking for her. The woodcutter, horrified at what he had done, moved away, never to be seen again.

The man turns up the brown paper bag, releasing the last of the breadcrumbs to the pavestones in front of him. He then carefully folds up the bag and places it into one of the front pockets of his coat.

Now, I didn't say it was a particulary good story, now did I? But like most it has a moral, and the moral is that there are at least two sides to every story. In the past, I've been hearing the same story over and over, from the same perspective. And well... it's just gotten old, bub. It's time somebody spoke up for my side of the story, and that's just what I plan on doing. Forget what you know, because it's about to be turned on its ear. The Message is coming, mark my words.

The man stands up, brushes a few errant breadcrumbs from his coat, and walks through the mass of pigeons and slowly away from the camera.

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