A Matter of Small Choice

There was once a small and pleasant country that had a problem. Every country, large or small, pleasant or unpleasant, has its problems, but this country had a problem that was truly unique. It had an ogre.

This country had an ogre the way some countries have a farm problem, a corrupt administration, or an unfavorable balance of trade. It wasn’t just an ogre, it was a crisis, and you know what that means. It isn’t good. The ogre wasn’t content with just going around stepping on cottages, climbing beanstalks, and shouting “Fee, fi, fo, fum!” or some other typical ogre talk; he liked to wallop his smaller neighbors with a club, and if they made any kind of a fuss about it, he ate them.

JM

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John Morressy

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There was once a small and pleasant country that had a problem. Every country, large or small, pleasant or unpleasant, has its problems, but this country had a problem that was truly unique. It had an ogre.

This country had an ogre the way some countries have a farm problem, a corrupt administration, or an unfavorable balance of trade. It wasn’t just an ogre, it was a crisis, and you know what that means. It isn’t good. The ogre wasn’t content with just going around stepping on cottages, climbing beanstalks, and shouting “Fee, fi, fo, fum!” or some other typical ogre talk; he liked to wallop his smaller neighbors with a club, and if they made any kind of a fuss about it, he ate them.