Hope you're in the mood for silly. ?Like t' 'style' ?? ; ) ; ) ; *)

{N: Best viewed at 800 x 600; unfortunately, AD's editor fails to allow enough horizontal space to keep
lines as they are meant to be. . .even when using the smallest available font. Hope this will change eventually.} Happy New Year !!!

For a Thousand, Name the First Fashion Maven

These fig leaves are too small, she thought. All brown

and splotchy, eeyew. Some insect -- fig cutters? -- gnawed

so many holes, almost see my whatchamacall. Adam’s

peeks at me and mine. Not that it matters, but Word has Come

Down that folk will prance Earth who think natural’s unnatural.

Cause one hassle after another. "Adam? Aaaaaaadam???"

Lo and behold, Adam was trying to get fallen figs to go through

a hole between wind-twisted branches. Just kept grunting

"Huh?" and frowning like she’d ruined his aim. "Aaaaarg!

This fruit don’t bounce worth a fig!" Sighing, Eve set down

the armload of grass she had gathered in hopes it would braid

itself into a carry-all. I must talk to Adam about his grammar,

she thought. But now is not the time. Better distract him.

"Did you hunt us up some dinner?" she said. "Or am I in charge

of vittles again?" Adam’s "Say what?" teed her off so,

Eve lost her appetite. No way would she cook. So she stewed

about the whatchamacall dilemma. The branches that the figs

bounced off of each time Adam threw reminded her of something

that awful snake had hissed. "You guys don’t know what wind is!"

He or she? Next time the asp slithered by, she’d check. Soon

she forgot the interloper. She was too busy picking through vines

for prettier and stronger leaves. Simply covering the situation --

er, situations -- would not do, she decided. The creek was full,

which gave her the idea to stir up a batch of mud for stickum.

No, she thought, it will dry and fall apart. Hmmmmmmm.

The sun lit up a tendril hanging from a vine, and Eve had an A-HA

experience. Then and there, invented thread. Made a needle

by poking a hole in the end of a twig that had to be replaced

a kazillion-quadrillion times, and stitched up a storm. "Sssssssso

clever" told her that Snake was nearby, beaming approval.

Who cared? Her new outfit was sha-ZAM. She had tied it around her

with vines that did wonders for her shape. Her whatchamacall didn't show

to distract! Eve quickly put together a suit for Adam. Something

almost matched, but looked macho, 'k? Naturally, she had to nag

him into the thing. Saw himself in the water, it was Strut City.

"Damn, I look good!" "Hey, I just invented the first cuss word!"

Come in handy when I play throw-the-fig. Play with me, please??"

"Awiiiiight," Eve said. "But only if you promise not to get mad

when I win." He promised, then got mad. Worse, they sweated

up their new duds and had to take them off and rinse them

in the Garden pool. While the sun dried them, they played

a different game. Eve even came up with a name: The Whatchmacall

Hop eventually became the most played game on Earth.

As for clothes, Eve realized she had created a monster,

but What the hay. Hadn’t been her, been Snake. . .

and you couldn’t even see his or her. . .you know. .

whatchamacall.