Once upon a time there was a lead weight attached to a string. Wait…wrong story.

Once upon a time the hills were singing and alive with the noises and scents of spring, which is another way of saying it was a time when everybody and everything (except the author) was getting laid. Mr Tortoise was cheerily walking along a path until he happened upon an engraved item of cutlery neatly embedded into the ground by the passing carriages.

“I wonder who might have left this fork in the road? I had better take it—such an ornate piece of silver! Such a crime to leave it betrodden here!”

So Mr Tortoise pried the fork out of the road and proceeded on his merry way to high tea with Mr Collins. That he would have eventually arrived is another matter, for there in the road he tripped and fell, and upon examination of the cause, he discovered he was walking on the ceiling. Mr Tortoise therefore walked backwards until he had reached the ground again.

“Perhaps not that way. What say you, Mr Fork?”

And thus the ornate eating-iron woke up, dusted off his pyjamas, and vibrated a response.

“Perhaps not. This way leads in the direction you seek, naturally, but is impractical.”
“Time to sit and think.”

He then reached into his furniture bag and took a seat.