PLANET STUPID. THE STORY EVERY CHILD SHOULD READ TO THEIR PARENTS

Pat was a tap.

He had a round blue dot on his head to tell the world he was a cold tap.

Pat loved being a tap.

He stood proudly in the kitchen, all silver and shiny, always ready to do his duty.

And happily, Pat was always on duty.

Every morning, noon and night, eager hands, both big and small would cup themselves below his gleaming surface to scoop water to their thirsty mouths.

This was always followed following by a prolonged ‘aaaaah’.

To Pat, that was pure job satisfaction.

So you can see why Pat the tap loved being a tap.

—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—

Pat the tap was a member of the McMudd familiy.

They all lived in the ever so nice neighbourhood of HeavenHeath.

Like a lot of families in HeavenHeath, the McMudd family was very nice.

Even when people made fun of their name, which wasn’t very often as most people were too nice, they took it in good spirits.

Mr. McMudd, or Mac to his friends was a clever, thoughful man, not given to impulsive acts.

When other families rushed to buy the latest gadgets, the McMudds waited.

Would it be useful, or just a waste? It was a question they always asked.

When Mac bought his son a bicycle for his 10th birthday, he began reading about bicycles when Mac Junior was only 8.

So when Mac Junior finally turned 10, the bicycle really wasn’t much of a surprise.

But Mac Junior was nice enough to pretend. And Mac was delighted.

Mrs McMudd or MacMa to her friend was also pleased though she secretly worried about crashes and bashes, bruises and cuts.

So she bought a helmet. And knee guards. And ankle guards.

Junior thought this was all a bit much, as he only ever drove in the yard, but he understood and never said a word.

—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—

Summers in HeavenHeath were usually pretty sunny and hot.

But this was sunnier and hotter than anyone could remember.

For Pat the tap, this was wonderful.

He was busier than he had been in years.

Day in, day out all the kids would play in the street with Mac Junior.

And sure enough, day in and day out, all the kids would come to Pat, cup their hands under his silver surface and and scoop water into their thirsty mouths.

As always, this was followed following by a prolonged ‘aaaaah’.

This made Pat a very happy tap.

But as sure as summers are bound to end, so too was the good life for Pat the tap.

—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?— -

Over the years, Pat had got to know the McMudd family pretty well.

In fairness, this wasn’t all that difficult

They were creatures of habit.

They always had breakfast together.

They always nagged Junior about his homework.

And no matter what, they always spent weekends together.

Some people might call this boring. Or predictable.

But Pat liked them for it.

So imagine his surpise, when quite out of the blue, they did something very different.

Well, it was certainly very different for them.

Pat had noticed in the weekly grocery shop, large bottles of colourless liquid.

It looked for all the world like water and reluctant as his was to accept it, deep in his heart, Pat knew.

He thought it might be a passing fad.

He hoped so but every week the same bottles were put in the fridge and Pat the Tap remained largely untouched.

His once well oiled machine, that had always turned so elegantly this way and that, had begun to feel rusty.

His shiny silver surface hadn’t felt the touch of a warm human hand. It had been ages since anyone had cupped their hand underneath and scooped the contents into mouth followed by a prolonged ‘aaaah’

Instead, people now twisted the cap, raised the bottle to their mouths and took a long satisfying drink.

This was followed by a prolonged ‘aaaaah’.

And that sound, which once was music to his ears was now like a dagger to the heart.

—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—

Naturally Pat wondered if other families had fallen into similar habits.

Were other taps, just ike him, being ignored?

Was the future without hope?

Would all cold taps, once the source of so much refreshment, be forever left untouched and alone?

Would their sole purpose be to fill kettles?

Pat shuddered at the thought.

These questions burned at him, but he was stuck.

He still sat proudly in the kitchen.

His silver surface still gleamed.

As always he was ready to do his duty.

How he longed to hear the ‘aaaah’ once more.

But he feared not.

A single tear formed and disappeared into the sink.

—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?-

Will this little story answer Pat’s questions.

Once upon a time, in a land not far away and a time not long ago, water used to be free in millions of homes that were lucky enough to have clean water.

It was wonderful gift that something so necessary to support life flowed so freely.

But like many good things (think of summer in Heavenheath) it couldn’t last forever.

Someone, somewhere, somehow had the strange idea to put water in a bottle and the crazy idea to sell it.

In fairness, no one thought it would work and everyone waited for this idea to fail. But the wait was in vain and it worked like crazy.

So much so that people became convinced that the water in taps, the very same water than had for many years quenched their thirst was, all of a sudden, not pure enough.

Bottled water, they reasoned, had to be superior.

After all it costs much more, so it must be better.

In fact it’s 560 times more expensive than tap water.

GULP.



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