Tales about compromise
Once upon a time there were six hard-working rubbish bins, each a different colour depending on the rubbish that was to be thrown into it. The green one was called Glassy (he was in charge of glass for recycling); the blue one was called Papius (he was in charge of paper for recycling); Oilo was charge of collecting the used oil bottles; the yellow one was called Plastica (she was in charge of plastic for recycling); Batterius was in charge of used batteries and finally there was Generalia who was in charge of the rest of the rubbish, particularly food waste.
Whenever someone put the rubbish in the wrong place, the bins would pass it into the correct one for they were very good friends. That way, the rubbish was always correctly divided so that it could be recycled properly and help after the environment.
Every so often, the rubbish van would come along to empty them and was always happy to see the right kind of waste going into the right rubbish bin.
But after a few days, the bins grew tired of ordering the rubbish because it was such hard work. They can’t move around very well, as you can imagine.
Soon Batterius, the youngest of all the bins, began to feel sick and very upset. He spat out everything that wasn’t a battery into the street, for he was so tired he could no longer contain it.
It wasn’t long before Plastica began to experience the same symptoms and spat out anything that wasn’t plastic. She was soon followed by Oilo, and finally all the bins began to toss out the rubbish that didn’t belong to them… Read the rest of this short story »
Once upon a time there was a dog called Pluto, whose fur was brown and whose eyes were black, and whose shape was slender and sleek.
Pluto lived with his master, Philip, a somewhat absent-minded student at the university, whom Pluto occasionally had to get out of trouble…
Yesterday was no different. Can you guess what happened to Pluto and Philip when they went into the country for a day out?
Well, it was a Sunday when Philip liked to take Pluto out to run around as much as he pleased. The field they usually went to was very pretty, full of trees with big pastures, and there was even a river where Philip would settle into a boat to read and relax.
Like always, Pluto was dashing around here and there and everywhere, while Philip lay in the boat by the riverbank and read his book. Suddenly, a strong wind began to blow, the boat began to tilt madly from side to side until eventually it turned over and tipped Philip into the water with a splash.
Philip yelled for help because he didn’t know how to swim… Read the rest of this short story »