Moody tilted her head, confused, “I know you are rich from cutting down trees, Mr. Funny. But what do you mean?”
Mr. Funny shook his head. “Oh Moody, you are just the girl I know back then. All naive and clueless. I want you to work for me.”
Moody’s eyes lit up for a second, but she looked at Mr. Funny with a questioning face, “Work for you? What will I do? Don’t you do your work alone?”
Mr. Funny then explained that he had just been hired by a furniture factory to create furnitures. Therefore, he needed Moody to help him design the furnitures. Moody thought for a second and said, “Well that does sound interesting. Can you give me some time to think?” Mr. Funny said, “I’ll give you a week, Moody. And remember, I’m going to pay you with real money. Not much, maybe, but real. You are tired of bags of peanuts, aren’t you?”
So Moody thought and thought. Her nights were sleepless and her days were suddenly too long. Finally she decided to leave the tobacco factory and joined Mr. Funny’s small workshop. On her first day, she got introduced to a bunch of new people from the furniture company.
“Hello everybody, this is Moody. She will help me design furnitures from now on. I am no longer alone!” Mr. Funny introduced moody cheerily.
The factory people looked at Moody with grim faces. They did not say a word, they just nodded politely and went back to work. Moody felt a little awkward, so she stepped in and tried to get involved.
“Hello there, what can I do to help?” she asked a girl, who later she recognized as the head designer. The girl did not even bother to look up and just brushed Moody off with a short sentence, “Nothing. We have all our stuff done anyway.”
Moody winced. She looked at Mr. Funny for help. Mr. Funny signaled her to get out of the factory and they took a walk in the woods together.
“You know, Moody, those people aren’t fun like you and me. So it’s going to take some time to blend in with them.”
“But why? I want to get started right away. I mean, I know I’m used to rolling tobacco but I think making doodles of a cute chair isn’t that difficult. Afterall, I studied painting in school and I always got A’s.”
“Well Moody, these people are our bosses now. So we have to obey them and try to please them all the time, even though it’s not pleasant for us to do so.”
“So what should I do in the mean time?”
“Just do your drawings and give them to me. I will try passing them to those factory people. They might just like it.”
Moody worked very hard. On her first week, she drew a very pretty red stool with flower patterns on it. “Look Mr. Funny! Isn’t this pretty?” she showed the drawing to her boss. Mr. Funny loved her drawing, “Excellent, Moody! Wow, I never knew you could draw this good! I’m going to the factory now and give this drawing to them so they can make this stool as soon as possible!”
Moody was ecstatic. Her first drawing will soon become a real thing! How fantastic is that?
She waited. And waited. And waited. Three weeks passed and finally Mr. Funny showed up at the small workshop. His expression was rather confusing. “Moody, let’s go to the factory. They’ve finished your stool. I want you to see it,” Mr. Funny grabbed Moody by the wrist and dragged her out. Moody was worried, “What’s wrong, Mr. Funny? Why aren’t you happy?” she asked. But Mr. Funny didn’t say a word. He kept dragging her through the woods and in no time, they were inside the factory.
In the middle of the factory field, sits a black stool with a horrific dragon pattern on it.
“That’s your chair, Moody,” Mr. Funny said.
Moody was shocked. “WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY CHAIR?” she screamed hysterically. She ran to get a closer look of the chair and was horrified. The dragon pattern looked fine from afar, but with a closer look, she could see the rough cuts, the awful wood chips and the uneven paint job.
“I am sure it’s supposed to be a RED stool with flower patterns! This… this thing… this is not what I drew!” She was still screaming. Mr. Funny took two steps closer to Moody and patted her back. “You did the right thing, Moody. It’s those people at the factory who screwed up. It’s ok. You’ll create more stools tomorrow,” he said, trying to be calm. Moody looked at her boss, furious, “Aren’t you going to say anything to them? They clearly messed up my work!” Mr. Funny took a deep breath, “Moody, they are our bosses now. We should just let things be.”
The next day Moody furiously drew a huge chair, inspired by kings’ thrones. This time, she delivered it to the factory herself, after showing Mr. Funny who was head over heels with the drawing. She met the head designer and showed her the larger-than-life design.
“Here, I got you a very intricate design. My boss loved it, and please, this time don’t screw up. I put all my energy in it,” she said firmly. The head designer looked at the drawing and immediately told Moody, “It is nice. But you used too much wood in this chair. We don’t have that much wood in the factory.” Moody was instantly angry, “Hey, Mr. Funny has more than enough wood to make this chair. You are a FACTORY. You should have enough wood!” But the head designer just turned away, not even giving Moody a chance to say anything more.
Moody was boiling mad. She went back to Mr. Funny’s small workshop and found the owner cutting an old oak tree.
“Mr. Funny, they said they don’t have enough wood to make my chair!” she screamed so she could be heard amidst the roaring sound of the electric saw. Mr. Moody was startled, as he nearly lost control of his saw.
“Geez Moody, don’t jump on me like that. I’m cutting down a tree here!”
“I’m sorry, but really, they said they don’t have enough wood to do my chair. And I know that they are lying to me!”
“Calm down, Moody. I’ll talk to them. You just do another drawing. You’ve been doing great. I look forward to see your future drawings!”
The next morning Moody came up to her boss with a new drawing. This time, it was an antique stool inspired by Roman times. Mr. Funny loved it as usual. But Moody wasn’t at all interested. She was anxious about her previous drawing, and wondered whether her boss had said anything to the factory people.
“So, Mr. Funny, have you talked to the factory people about my previous chair?” she asked Mr. Funny. Mr. Funny nodded, “Yes and they promised me it will be finished by the end of the month.” Moody was still intrigued, “How did you do it? How did you convince them?” Mr. Funny smiled, “Let’s just say I still have my charm, Moody.”
The end of the month was finally there. Moody and Mr. Funny gallops through the woods, doing their funny horse-race. Both excited about the new chair. But the smile on their faces and the laughter faded when they spotted an ugly throne that would never fit for any king. Moody passed out of shock.
When she regained her consciousness, she saw Mr. Funny arguing with the grim girl. She couldn’t say a word, so she just turned her weak head to the right. There it is. The ugly throne. The supposedly gold-painted backrest was painted blue, and the plush velvet was replaced by a green corduroy. The faux crystals were replaced by tiny cheap marbles. In short, it was downright ugly.
That night Moody couldn’t sleep a blink.
The next morning she tried again, drawing the best chairs she’s ever drawn in her entire life. The day after was the same and on it went until the sixth month. The amazing thing is: none of the chairs she drew came out of the factory as expected. She began to suspect something and talked to Mr. Funny about it.
“You know, I think those people at the factory don’t like me. They keep doing things wrong and I now think they do it on purpose.”
“Moody, they like you. It’s ME that they are not too crazy about.”
“Really? Then why did they hire you in the first place? To just cut woods?”
“I think so. When they hired me, they said I would be given the chance to design the furniture as well. That is why I am partly confused.”
“Partly? I am confused to the max here.”
“Well, we’ll just make what THEY want then. How about that?”
“I don’t know… I quit rolling tobaccos because I thought I could do something different here…”
“Well you are. You are drawing chairs”
“I know, but I thought it’s MY drawings that are going to be made in that factory.”
Mr. Funny stayed silent and ordered Moody to go back to work.
Without realizing it, Moody had been working for a year with Mr. Funny. Happy to be doing something else, but hating the people at the factory who constantly dissed her hard labor. And without realizing it, Moody began to hate the factory. She started to say things like these to Mr. Funny:
“Mr. Funny, just cancel the agreement. You can still chop down trees without working for them anyway.”
“Mr. Funny, aren’t you tired of arguing with those people?”
“Mr. Funny, I heard that there’s a new furniture factory in town. Why don’t we work for THEM?”
But every word out of Moody’s mouth was no good. Mr. Funny said, “Moody, we are adults. Adults stick with their commitments. Therefore, we have to.”
One day, Moody visited the factory and chatted casually with one of the workers.
“You know, Moody, I heard that the factory is going to hire a new lumberjack,” he said. Moody looked at the worker, “Really? And what will happen with Mr. Funny?” she asked. The worker suddenly looked nervous, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I heard that Mr. Funny’s service will no longer be needed.”
As much as she despised the news, Moody wanted to jump up and down happily.
She rushed back to the small workshop and told Mr. Funny the news. Mr. Funny wasn’t surprised. He smiled.
“Well Moody, I think it’s about time.”
“Like HELL it is, Mr. Funny. Pardon my language,”
“So are you relieved?”
“Yes. But I don’t like this feeling.”
“Because usually every time I stop doing something I like, I always miss it. I miss rolling tobaccos from time to time. But this, I won’t. And I don’t like the way I feel about it.”
“Me too. But hey, life goes on huh?”
“I think so.”
They both were silent for a moment. Moody looked at her boss’ eyes.
“Are you really fine with this, Mr. Funny?”
And she got the best answer she’s ever heard, and it cracks her up every time she thinks of it. Moody WILL live happily ever after.
I’m not telling what the answer is.
*thank you for reading this. you’ve been quite an audience. but really, this isn’t just a story. it’s me against my own demons, those stupid people at the furniture factory and my neverending wonder on how people can be utterly idiotic. no offense, God.