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The Sad Little 2CV
Once upon a time, in a far-away land, there was a sad little 2CV. The 2CV was very sad because it had been abandoned and was stuck in a field and was covered in weeds.
Near the field was the factory of the Big Bold Car Company. The Big Bold Car Company had stopped making little 2CVs a long time ago, and now made only very sensible cars that were identicle to all the other cars on the roads. None of the sensible cars wanted to be friends with the Sad Little 2CV. And so the Sad Little 2CV was alone in the field, except for the Rust Devil, who lived in a pipe on the rubbish tip.
"EEH, EEH, EEH," screeched the Rust Devil, "I am keeping you, my metal one, for later, when I shall gobble you up for my dinner, EEH! EEH!" It scraped its long, sharp fingernails across the Sad Little 2CV.
"Please, no, no!" wailed the Sad Little 2CV.
"No one can help you now, my steely morsal, you are mine! EEH, EEH, EEH." And with that the Rust Devil skipped and jumped and danced around the Sad Little 2CV.
It was all such a sad business, but at the bottom of the field there was a railway line and once a day the little train went by. The little train was the sad 2CV’s only friend.
"TOOT TOOT", went the little train. "PEEP PEEP", went the Sad Little 2CV.
But the little train was also sad, because the big silly Government had sold off the railways and they had fallen into a state of disrepair. One day the little train went by - "TOOT TOOT" - and passed under the big highway jammed with cars and was never seen again. The Sad Little 2CV was now all alone in the field, except for the Rust Devil: "You are all mine now, my metallurgical meal, EEH EEH", the Rust Devil cackled, as it skipped and jumped and danced around the Sad Little 2CV.
One day Eric the Economist was passing by. He heard the Sad Little 2CV weeping. "What’s the matter?" asked Eric.
"Nobody wants me and I am stuck in this field and the Rust Devil is fattening me up for dinner", sobbed the Sad Little 2CV.
"But you are no longer required," explained Eric the Economist, "free-market capitalism dictates that you are upsetting the politico-economic equilibrium."
The Sad Little 2CV began sobbing again, so Eric the Economist stroked its bonnet: "My my, what a nice bonnet you have, and such lovely wings." He started to clear the weeds away, "yes, I can see now, you really are a beautiful little car."
"Am I really?" sniffed the Sad Little 2CV.
"Most definately, and I’m going to take you home with me and fix you up again."
At that moment the Rust Devil appeared: "Oh no you don’t, this structural snack belongs to me! EEH, EEH, EEH," and it skipped and jumped and danced around.
"I know how to deal with the likes of you," said Eric the Economist, and he fetched an oil can from the boot of the 2CV.
"I live off consumerism and waste and greed and the little metal one is mine, EEH EEH EEH."
"Not any longer," said Eric the Economist, and he sprayed oil from the can all over the Rust Devil, realising that some things really are more important than the capitalist market economy.
"ARGH! ARGH!" screamed the Rust Devil, "my rusty sinews! my rusty sinews!" and he skipped and jumped and danced back to his pipe on the rubbish tip.
Eric the Economist took the Sad Little 2CV back to his five-bedroomed house in the suburbs, and, after a careful audit, they lived happily ever after.
The End
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