The Dilemma of the Little Drummer Boy
Part 1 - Why so sad little drummer boy? "One night, some desert bandits crept into my life, killed my reputation, litigated my savings away and just burned the place down. Luckily, I escaped and since then, I've had a hatred and mistrust towards people for what they had done... all I have is a lamb named Baabaa. (story to continue)
Part 2 - Why even sadder little drummer boy? "Baabaa! no Baabaa! Baabaa has been trampled on..."
Part 3 - As he neared his tiny friend, the little drummer boy realized Baabaa was dying. in that instant a flicker of the constant, gnawing hatred for his fellow man crossed his face; then just as quickly that look changed to confusion -- what should he do?
Part 4 - He had vowed to never ask for help, neither of man and certainly not of God... but Baabaa...
Part 5 - Not too far away a crowd had gathered -- not for him or his friend, no one cared about them... but for something, someone else. He approached the crowd with the broken Baabaa in his arms and asked an important looking man, "Sir, you look important, and powerful, can you help us?" The man looked on in pity, but turned away, turned back towards the focus of the crowd. "Sir, please! You must help!"
Part 6 - The powerful and important man spoke gently to the drummer boy, "I am just a man, and these are mere people. We cannot help you or your little friend, even with all our hearts we wished to." Sad, lost and broken, the drummer boy turned to go; and as he strode off the man spoke, "we cannot heal, we cannot cure, we cannot save - but there is one that may help..." He knelt and began to pray, for Baabaa and more importantly, the little drummer boy...
Part 7 - As the man prayed, silently and sincerely, so too did the drummer boy. The little drummer did not see the angels weep, or all of heaven rejoice, but he would later swear that he heard God laughing with delight. The little drummer's heart was filled with joy and love. And he knew at last that the hate he had carried there was wrong. As all hatred will ever be wrong. For more powerful, more beautiful by far than all the eons of sadness and cruelty and desolation which had come before, was that one tiny, crystalline second of laughter.
*Edited and revised by Rich Giberti (from the original 1968 Bass & Rankin story)