A boy with a stick and a cattail
This young man found that no cattail could stand up to his mighty swing with a stick. Boys and sticks. They're like peanut butter and jam, Tom and Jerry, or flowers and honeybees. The pairing is inevitable, guaranteed, a certainty upon which you could bet wildly. Not all sticks qualify as the eminent rapier or throttling club, for twigs break easily and logs are too hefty to lift. But, when found, the perfect stick can be wielded with force, cunning, and charisma. And it just so happened that I was there when I witnessed the event in person. It was destiny. There, on the ground, in front of the blue-clad boy, was a stick. And not just any stick, it was the perfect stick. About as long as his arm, strong but not too heavy, and smooth. The bark had all but gone and the wood grain was clearly visible. It made a very satisfying whoosh when it was swung with vigour. His hand gripped it well, almost as if it had been made...