I was having one of those tangent conversations the other day - you know the kind where you start in one alley and then all of a sudden you're on 5th avenue and then your back at the alley but not before you make fifteen stops along the way. Does this make sense? I mean, we just kept talking and it was very meander-y.
Somehow, a memory of a mouse who was a dentist and who helped a fox and didn't he remember? I mean, he had to remember? Except, he didn't and I'm talking about Dr. De Soto!
The conversation took a sharp left from there and we started talking about our favorite children's stories and I remembered the one about the donkey and the rock and then he turns into a rock and I'm talking about Sylvester and the Magic Pebble! Which, he also didn't remember.
Then, you must remember the one about the monsters and their ugly, ugly island and the pretty, pretty flower? Well, he didn't. And, I was so indignant! So, I googled the last one (whose title I couldn't remember) and then, and then, and then: Rotten Island!!!
A few more right turns later and I realized all those books which meant so much to me as a child - so much, that I was happy to snap and snarl at my friend for never having read them - all those books? Were written by the same man.
William Steig.
He also created Shrek.
I mean, seriously.
No comments:
Post a Comment