Loosing a thread in a haystack
I’m loosing a thread here. Stay with me, this isn’t easy. My name is Althread, we come from a long way away. Our home town is Manthreadster. You know the city of nuts? No? Well I work there as a nut-sizer. Look, what I do is irrelevant. I’m looking for my son. His name? Threadinand. Yes, with a TH, not with an F. Who would spell Threadinand with an F?
He is missing and I already told you so. He is a standard left hand thread, 3/4 inch tall, but growing fast. No I said left hand thread. Like me and the rest of our family. No my wife stayed home. It was my sons birthday with to visit the city where all threads come from. Little did I know it ends up like this. I just lost him in the string place, not far from here. We were looking Thread avenue and ended up in String place.
This is all confusing here and I don’t speak the language here. My son heard of this place where all the thread life happily. It was his birthday wish to see more than nuts and bolts before he becomes a qualified nut sizer. So we saved our money and booked out trip. It’s my first trip outside Manthreadster. We came here on the bullet train. That was very exciting. I could see the work of my colleagues. The screws and nuts were in perfect condition and the train was as smooth as a freshly cut half inch fine thread. What? No, it means it was fantastic.
Look, I would like to find my son back. He must be confused. We expected to find more threads here. No, not threats. But I tell you what. If you don’t help me find my son soon I promise you something. Yeah, I cut your string coming from your nose.
Oh, you say that is a thread? No no no. I’m not that easily fooled. I know threads. Look at me. This is a thread. No, I haven’t heard of three ply interwoven right hand thread. What sort of joke is that? We expected some lovely thread in Strickholm city, but all we get is strings, ropes, lines and strands. When we arrived at the String place there were many spools of strange looking people, like you. My son was asking me, what’s going on here? He got confused. I got confused. They were talking a different language. There is nothing imperial or metric. It didn’t even sound like wentworth. We were so confused.
In all the confusion I let go of my sons hand. He was gone. I called out for him but the string people were everywhere. If I have a photo of him? Sure. This is him. Yes.
You found Althread? Where is he? Right here? Oh my. This is great. Thank you very much, you strange looking people. Yes we’re going home. We had enough of this strange place. Strickholm isn’t for us. That’s right son. We’re going home. There are some nuts who need us. I hope you learnt your lesson. Never confuse your thread.
The end
Recent Comments