Wednesday, 10 August 2011

The Hobbit

A true story

My friend was called in to work to do a five-hour shift, but she had no one to look after her nineteen-year-old Down syndrome son. Friends were unavailable, as was his carer. It was a good shift and she didn’t want to miss it. She figured he’d be OK anyway, so she put on Lord of the Rings and headed off. Two hours into her shift she got a call from her very excited son saying,
“Mum, I got a Hobbit!”
“That’s great mate. You’ll have to show me when I get home, OK?”
“OK,” he agreed, hardly able to contain his excitement.
Three hours later, mum arrived home to find her son covered in blood and bruises.
“WHAT HAPPENTED TO YOU?” she demanded.
“I got a Hobbit! I got a Hobbit! Come on,” he said, beckoning her out to the garage. When he opened the door brimming with pride, poor mum got the fright of her life. Inside was a very disgruntled Midget with his fists clenched and an awfully determined look on his face.
Her young warrior had come across a Dwarf somewhere, grabbed him, and thrown him into the garage to show mum.
Escape would have been easy except for one very frustrating problem; he couldn’t reach the door handle.

by Gary Taaffe 

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