Seagram’s Seven? or Seygrimms Three? I’m so confused. Seyfert (who else) has returned to the galaxy to enter our contest, courtesy of his creator, Julie Mark Cohen.
A Seygrimm Fairy Tale: The Three SeyTTT-ian Girls
As Read by Seyfert, on loan from
Julie Mark Cohen
Once upon a time, far, far away on the island of Seyfig in the Seyment ocean, Seyadaline, Seypaulina, and Seyvirgie, very young daughters of intergalactic explorers, met at Seyadaline’s house for an afternoon show-and-tell of treasures brought back from Earth by their parents.
“We should open our Faberge eggs,” said Seyadaline as she placed hers on a velvet mat on the table.
“I can’t wait to see what’s inside mine,” Seypaulina said, gently settling hers on another velvet mat.
The two girls watched Seyvirgie struggle pulling a rope she had tied to an old-fashioned roller skate. “Hurry, Seyvirgie, hurry.”
Seyvirgie looked down at her cradled gold-scalloped, blue egg and said, “It’s getting heavier.”
“Maybe, the wheels need oiling?” Seypaulina said.
“Not likely,” said Seyvergie, groaning louder with each tug.
“Let’s get started. I want to go first.” Seyadaline opened her gold diamond-patterned, gemstone-studded green egg. “It’s beautiful. Look at the little basket and all the flowers. They look real. I’m so happy.”
“My turn,” said Seypauline, who opened her horizontally-oriented, yellow and white egg trimmed with an intricate gold pattern speckled with crystals. “Look at what I have. It’s a rainbow-colored Terran bird. For a symmetric creature, it’s pretty. I’m happy, too.”
Seyadaline said, “Seyvirgie, it’s your turn.”
“My egg keeps getting heavier.” Seyvirgie opened her egg from behind, motioning her friends to move in closer.
“I don’t see anything.”
Craning her neck, Seyvirgie said, “Nothing? Are you sure?”
Seyvirgie sat between her friends. Together, they leaned in and fell over the event horizon.
“Momma! Poppa!” Seyfert yelled from his bed. “Help!”
Seyzannah and Seymour galloped to Seyfert’s bedroom, entered, and found him displaying pages from an antique book.
Seymour sighed as he observed his son. “Oh no, he read one of those books. I’ll quiet him down.”
Seyfert squinted to bring his Faberge egg into focus. “I’m scared. My egg looks like the one in the story.”
“Son, let’s be logical,” Seymour said, pointing to Seyfert’s egg. “That’s not where black holes originate.”
Seymour tried to pick up the egg. “Why is it so heavy? Oh-”
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Copyright 2015 by Julie Mark Cohen