Crow and the bowl.
- joneworlds@mailbox.org

Crow had a  bowl made of red clay,  with a picture
of a  horse etched  into it. It  was a  fine bowl,
which it  used for  eating and bathing.  I admired
Crow's bowl, and though I had not one of my own, I
was content.

The external  hard drive, seeing this,  came to me
one day. It  reared up on its cable,  faced me and
spoke to me.

"You  must take  the bowl  away from  Crow. It  is
stolen, and it is wrong that Crow should have it."

"I will not take Crow's bowl."

Nine days later, the hard drive came to me again.

"You  must take  the bowl  away from  Crow. It  is
wrong that Crow does not  share its fine bowl with
others."

"I will not take Crow's bowl."

Nine days later, the hard drive came to me again.

"You must take  the bowl away from  Crow. The clay
is toxic, and Crow is unsafe."

I pondered this. "I will take the bowl from Crow."

I  went  to  Crow,  and  put  my  hands  upon  its
bowl. Crow became angry,

"Do not take my bowl!"

"Crow, this bowl will make  you sick. You must not
have it."

"Do not take my bowl!"

Both of us  grasped the bowl and  pulled. The bowl
broke  into   five  pieces.  One  of   the  pieces
scratched my hand, and my blood spilled upon it.

"Now you've done it," said Crow.

The  five  pieces  arranged themselves  into  four
walls and a roof, forming  a house around Crow and
I. The  engraved horse  on the  north-facing piece
spoke to us.

"Henceforth, each  night you  must return  to this
house."

Crow and I  still dwell in the house  to this day,
and have grown old together. The stain of my blood
on the  north-facing wall  reminds us each  day of
how we came to be here.

The external hard drive has never returned.