ALBINO RHINO
“Tell us another story,” asked the young rhinos.
Mr. Black Rhino was tired. After a long day of roaming the dry grassy plains, the old rhino wanted to rest. He didn’t feel like telling another story to the twins, his grandkids. But the twins liked to hear his curly tales, especially if the stories had twins in them, so they asked Black again, “Tell us a story…”
“No,” said Mr. Black Rhino.
“Please...”
Black shook his horn-head -- no. He had run out of stories.
They got behind Black’s behind and began poking, “Come on...”
“No!” said Black, “I don’t have any.” Then he started to gallop.
The twins tried to follow and shouted, “Make up a new one…”
“Stories don’t grow on trees,” he snorted back at them. Then he huffed and hurled far away until he could no longer hear the twins. That will teach them, he thought.
Black slowed his charge and turned to look back but all he could see was the dust cloud that trailed behind from his heavy steps. Then—
BLAMM!!
Mr. Black Rhino plowed into a plim plam plum tree. Plim plam plums smacked and splattered and covered him with white patches. The sticky stains stuck and stank. The tree was a mess, and so was he. Black was woozy. He did a dizzy dance and glanced at the tree but saw two trees instead.
Poor Black wobbled slowly across the dry plain to plain dry himself. A few minutes later he came upon two blue elephants. They saw the polka-dotted rhino-looking creature coming at them and immediately they blew a warning with their trunks, “STAY AWAY!”
Elephants had always been friendly, never ever rude like this. Black stopped and stared. The elephants recoiled their trumpet trunks and stampeded the other way. There had only been one elephant in the neighborhood. Black wondered where the second one came from.
A few steps later he saw a pair of green gazelles grazing in the grass. One quick gaze at the spotted beast (Mr. Black Rhino) sent the gazelles scattering into the distant darkness.
Suddenly the old rhino was very unpopular, tired and confused. Twin suns were starting to rise; twin moons lingered on the horizon. This made him think of his grandkids, the twins. They appreciated him. He decided he’d look for them after he went down to freshen up at the mud muck marsh.
A couple of yellow hippos saw the wobbling polka-dotted thing (rhino?) approaching and quickly splashed across the puddle pond to get away. The hurrying hippos (actually there was only one) kicked all of the water out of the little pond. The puddle pond water disappeared into the dry, sandy banks. The unpopular, tired, confused and thirsty Mr. Black Rhino had to eat mud, which made him very sleepy.
As he drifted off toward sleepy time the lonely rhino realized … can’t see, can’t smell, can’t walk, can’t taste…trouble is double… He thought of the twins again and how much he enjoyed telling them stories. This made him feel a little better.
High overhead two vultures spotted the old rhino in the mud. They squawked as if they were arguing over who would eat him first. They swirled and descended but when they got closer to Mr. Black’s diseased-looking carcass they vowed to become vulture vegetarians from now on. The hideous hide (Mr. Rhino) was not appetizing at all! And off they flew looking for a plant place to party.
Meanwhile, back-biting bug birds told the real twins that there was a monster on the loose down by the mud muck marsh. This sounded like a tall-tale, like something Grandpa Black would tell them. They decided to go and see for themselves. Then they could tell their own story.
Black was lying in the muck marsh when they arrived. The back-biting bug birds flew off of the twins when they saw the groggy rhino.
“Grandpa!” they hollered.
“Twins?” Black wondered if he was still seeing double.
“You’re stained and stinky,” they said.
“What?” asked grandpa, the albino rhino.
“You’ve got plim plam plum all over you.”
“There’s no more water left,” Black attempted to explain, “The hippos…”
“Don’t worry,” they said and started licking him clean. Luckily, plim plam plum stains are a treat, smelly but sweet. The white plim plam plum stains left gray spots on his old hide.
“Oh, that’s so good,” Black said as the twins slurped plum from his snout. “I must look as terrible as I feel,” he said, “but I found a story.”
“Where?” they asked.
“From a tree.”
“A tree? But you said—“
“Never mind what I said before,” Mr. Black Rhino told them. “This story is about an old fool who ran away. Life became twice as hard because he almost lost everything, everything except his treasure.”
“What was that?” they wondered.
“His beautiful twins,” replied the grateful rhino suddenly feeling much better as he rubbed their young ears just the way they liked it.
"Albino Rhino" story from "TailTales" © 2000 by John Kirkmire, © 2015 Kirkworkshop. All rights reserved.
return to stories page
“Tell us another story,” asked the young rhinos.
Mr. Black Rhino was tired. After a long day of roaming the dry grassy plains, the old rhino wanted to rest. He didn’t feel like telling another story to the twins, his grandkids. But the twins liked to hear his curly tales, especially if the stories had twins in them, so they asked Black again, “Tell us a story…”
“No,” said Mr. Black Rhino.
“Please...”
Black shook his horn-head -- no. He had run out of stories.
They got behind Black’s behind and began poking, “Come on...”
“No!” said Black, “I don’t have any.” Then he started to gallop.
The twins tried to follow and shouted, “Make up a new one…”
“Stories don’t grow on trees,” he snorted back at them. Then he huffed and hurled far away until he could no longer hear the twins. That will teach them, he thought.
Black slowed his charge and turned to look back but all he could see was the dust cloud that trailed behind from his heavy steps. Then—
BLAMM!!
Mr. Black Rhino plowed into a plim plam plum tree. Plim plam plums smacked and splattered and covered him with white patches. The sticky stains stuck and stank. The tree was a mess, and so was he. Black was woozy. He did a dizzy dance and glanced at the tree but saw two trees instead.
Poor Black wobbled slowly across the dry plain to plain dry himself. A few minutes later he came upon two blue elephants. They saw the polka-dotted rhino-looking creature coming at them and immediately they blew a warning with their trunks, “STAY AWAY!”
Elephants had always been friendly, never ever rude like this. Black stopped and stared. The elephants recoiled their trumpet trunks and stampeded the other way. There had only been one elephant in the neighborhood. Black wondered where the second one came from.
A few steps later he saw a pair of green gazelles grazing in the grass. One quick gaze at the spotted beast (Mr. Black Rhino) sent the gazelles scattering into the distant darkness.
Suddenly the old rhino was very unpopular, tired and confused. Twin suns were starting to rise; twin moons lingered on the horizon. This made him think of his grandkids, the twins. They appreciated him. He decided he’d look for them after he went down to freshen up at the mud muck marsh.
A couple of yellow hippos saw the wobbling polka-dotted thing (rhino?) approaching and quickly splashed across the puddle pond to get away. The hurrying hippos (actually there was only one) kicked all of the water out of the little pond. The puddle pond water disappeared into the dry, sandy banks. The unpopular, tired, confused and thirsty Mr. Black Rhino had to eat mud, which made him very sleepy.
As he drifted off toward sleepy time the lonely rhino realized … can’t see, can’t smell, can’t walk, can’t taste…trouble is double… He thought of the twins again and how much he enjoyed telling them stories. This made him feel a little better.
High overhead two vultures spotted the old rhino in the mud. They squawked as if they were arguing over who would eat him first. They swirled and descended but when they got closer to Mr. Black’s diseased-looking carcass they vowed to become vulture vegetarians from now on. The hideous hide (Mr. Rhino) was not appetizing at all! And off they flew looking for a plant place to party.
Meanwhile, back-biting bug birds told the real twins that there was a monster on the loose down by the mud muck marsh. This sounded like a tall-tale, like something Grandpa Black would tell them. They decided to go and see for themselves. Then they could tell their own story.
Black was lying in the muck marsh when they arrived. The back-biting bug birds flew off of the twins when they saw the groggy rhino.
“Grandpa!” they hollered.
“Twins?” Black wondered if he was still seeing double.
“You’re stained and stinky,” they said.
“What?” asked grandpa, the albino rhino.
“You’ve got plim plam plum all over you.”
“There’s no more water left,” Black attempted to explain, “The hippos…”
“Don’t worry,” they said and started licking him clean. Luckily, plim plam plum stains are a treat, smelly but sweet. The white plim plam plum stains left gray spots on his old hide.
“Oh, that’s so good,” Black said as the twins slurped plum from his snout. “I must look as terrible as I feel,” he said, “but I found a story.”
“Where?” they asked.
“From a tree.”
“A tree? But you said—“
“Never mind what I said before,” Mr. Black Rhino told them. “This story is about an old fool who ran away. Life became twice as hard because he almost lost everything, everything except his treasure.”
“What was that?” they wondered.
“His beautiful twins,” replied the grateful rhino suddenly feeling much better as he rubbed their young ears just the way they liked it.
"Albino Rhino" story from "TailTales" © 2000 by John Kirkmire, © 2015 Kirkworkshop. All rights reserved.
return to stories page