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This is a story about a little girl. She lived very happily inside a full-grown woman. The little girl was pretty and kindhearted, and enjoyed her life because she got to go play a great deal.
The little girl had one wish. Actually, she had many wishes, born of many dreams, but this was a simple wish. She wished for long pretty nails. All her life the little girl had had short, stubby nails, from the time she bit them as an infant to the times she tomboyed around and they folded or broke off becuase she didn't bother to keep them cleaned or trimmed. She dreamed one day of reaching apoint in her life where she could grow her nails as long as they would grow, and lacquer and gloss them until they gleamed from her fingertips. But no matter how old she grew the little girl never seemed to reach a time when her hands were not busy, or her nails wanted to grow longer than 'business length'.
One day the little girl was sitting quietly inside her woman, shopping, when a box spoke to her from a discount shelf.
"Buy me", it said, "and I will give you long beautiful nails beyond compare, glossed and natural-looking, not like other leading brands, and none shall know they are not your own."
The little girl listened to the box, picked it up and took it home with her. That night she put her hand inside the box and lo! her hands acquired 10 glossy, beautiful nails, natural yet hard and shining as though they were made of glass. She admired them all evening, and wore them to bed, feeling like a princess.
In the morning the little girll awoke and bounced out of bed, ready to hit the shower. Her nails clicked on the tile as she got in. She dropped the soap three times, but picked it up each time, telling herself she'd get used to the length. Washing her hair she scratched her head several times, fumbled into her clothes, and carefully turning the key in the lock to preserve her fingers, drove off to work.
At work the nails proved more troublesome, as opening doors bent her fingers back at the first knuckle. She could find nothing in her purse, or dig out any change for a cola. Dialing the phone took three times as long, and data entry was an entirely different endeavor. She took out her nail clipper and trimmed the extra long nails down to a tad longer than business size. "At least they're all still even and glossy " she thought, admiring their functional length.
Towards the end of the day she reached down for a bag and nearly tore off a nail, and though her job kept her at her desk all day, by the time she went home her nails had developed cracks and splits, requiring a return to the box to repair them. At the car she took out her guitar to run over a few chords, and had to stop because the nails could not let the pads of her left hand finger the frets. She sighed, put it away, and drove home.
Backing into the driveway an unusual thing ocurred. The tire slipped off the driveway and onto the grass below. At this particular point the grass was a ways below the cement drive, and the corner of the car rested on the pavement, unable to move off. The girl, who felt very energetic now that she was home, eagerly went for the jack and looked around for some wood slats to solve the problem. But her nails protested at the hard metal jack, and chipped against the pavement, seeming to suggest that someone else might be better suited to come accomplish this task. It was then, bent over her trunk, the little girl realized something. It did not change her life, or open a new light upon her soul, but eventually it let her be just a little, little bit happier.
"I've never reallyliked princesses," she thought, and cranked the jack with her hands, scratching the nails on the pavement, and shoved the wooden slats under her tire until the wheel gave purchase and she rolled herself out of the driveway and straight out onto the road. Climbing in, she drove straight to the book nook and bought the soundtrack to 8Mile she'd been wanting. She drove off, humming "Lose Yourself" under her breath.
That night at a friend's house, telling her the story, they laughed at her folly while she slowly peeled the split, broken, dirty nails off her wonderful, bike-riding, tool-using, tire-changing, string-picking, line-hauling hands.
And the little girl was ever so slightly happier.
The little girl had one wish. Actually, she had many wishes, born of many dreams, but this was a simple wish. She wished for long pretty nails. All her life the little girl had had short, stubby nails, from the time she bit them as an infant to the times she tomboyed around and they folded or broke off becuase she didn't bother to keep them cleaned or trimmed. She dreamed one day of reaching apoint in her life where she could grow her nails as long as they would grow, and lacquer and gloss them until they gleamed from her fingertips. But no matter how old she grew the little girl never seemed to reach a time when her hands were not busy, or her nails wanted to grow longer than 'business length'.
One day the little girl was sitting quietly inside her woman, shopping, when a box spoke to her from a discount shelf.
"Buy me", it said, "and I will give you long beautiful nails beyond compare, glossed and natural-looking, not like other leading brands, and none shall know they are not your own."
The little girl listened to the box, picked it up and took it home with her. That night she put her hand inside the box and lo! her hands acquired 10 glossy, beautiful nails, natural yet hard and shining as though they were made of glass. She admired them all evening, and wore them to bed, feeling like a princess.
In the morning the little girll awoke and bounced out of bed, ready to hit the shower. Her nails clicked on the tile as she got in. She dropped the soap three times, but picked it up each time, telling herself she'd get used to the length. Washing her hair she scratched her head several times, fumbled into her clothes, and carefully turning the key in the lock to preserve her fingers, drove off to work.
At work the nails proved more troublesome, as opening doors bent her fingers back at the first knuckle. She could find nothing in her purse, or dig out any change for a cola. Dialing the phone took three times as long, and data entry was an entirely different endeavor. She took out her nail clipper and trimmed the extra long nails down to a tad longer than business size. "At least they're all still even and glossy " she thought, admiring their functional length.
Towards the end of the day she reached down for a bag and nearly tore off a nail, and though her job kept her at her desk all day, by the time she went home her nails had developed cracks and splits, requiring a return to the box to repair them. At the car she took out her guitar to run over a few chords, and had to stop because the nails could not let the pads of her left hand finger the frets. She sighed, put it away, and drove home.
Backing into the driveway an unusual thing ocurred. The tire slipped off the driveway and onto the grass below. At this particular point the grass was a ways below the cement drive, and the corner of the car rested on the pavement, unable to move off. The girl, who felt very energetic now that she was home, eagerly went for the jack and looked around for some wood slats to solve the problem. But her nails protested at the hard metal jack, and chipped against the pavement, seeming to suggest that someone else might be better suited to come accomplish this task. It was then, bent over her trunk, the little girl realized something. It did not change her life, or open a new light upon her soul, but eventually it let her be just a little, little bit happier.
"I've never reallyliked princesses," she thought, and cranked the jack with her hands, scratching the nails on the pavement, and shoved the wooden slats under her tire until the wheel gave purchase and she rolled herself out of the driveway and straight out onto the road. Climbing in, she drove straight to the book nook and bought the soundtrack to 8Mile she'd been wanting. She drove off, humming "Lose Yourself" under her breath.
That night at a friend's house, telling her the story, they laughed at her folly while she slowly peeled the split, broken, dirty nails off her wonderful, bike-riding, tool-using, tire-changing, string-picking, line-hauling hands.
And the little girl was ever so slightly happier.
