The Boy Who Wanted More

Once upon a time, when life was simple, like super simple, like so simple that fashion was defined by if you wore more than one shade of brown, there was a little boy name Kutso. Kutso was not satisfied by his life, like everyone around him seemed to be. He couldn't explain why eating the same porridge every night for dinner didn't satisfy him or why going fishing didn't actually seem like that big of a deal.

The other villagers had suspected something was wrong with Kutso for quite some time. The boy just didn't seem to take much pleasure in life, and when his parents asked him what was wrong, all he could say was, "I don't know."

"Why not?" his father persisted. "It seems silly to be sad without a reason."

"There is a reason," said Kutso, " I just don't know what it is."

His mother chewed on her porridge for a moment. "Why Kutso dear, that just doesn't make any sense."

Kutso admitted that he had to agree. Though secretly, he knew what it was. He simply wanted more.  More what exactly? More everything. More color, more food choices, more talking, more music, more games, more laughing, more crying, more, more, more.

So one day, Kutso set out into the woods in search of just that, more. He told his parents he was merely going camping, a concept they found strange. Who went camping for pleasure? Indeed, who needed a break from a life so simple and nice?

But off he went. Kutso journeyed into the mountains, crawled through caves, and trudged through rivers, but everything seemed to be just he same as the areas around his village.

Then, one day he emerged from a particularly dark and twisted cave to see the strangest bird  he had ever seen in his life. It was bright pink with spotted green feathers on its head and stood on two tall skinny orange legs. Kutso didn't have a word for those colors, but liked them immediately.

The bird looked at Kutso and tilted its head. It squawked loudly, unlike any bird he had ever heard before, and flew away. Only then did Kutso realize that the place he was now standing in was FULL of colors, so many colors. He could not have imagined so many different flowers and plants and trees. And more animals too! Of all shapes and sizes, making an assortment of all kinds of sounds.

And, for the first time in a very long, long time, Kutso felt happy.

He ventured down further into the foliage, where he discovered a village full of people. Unlike his village where everyone had the same color skin, eyes, and hair and wore the same color of clothes, these people were multicolored. Nobody seemed to have exactly the same colored hair and their outfits were not only diverse in shades, but in styles. Kutso wondered out into the center of everything, not thinking, simply in awe. Suddenly people started to noticed him and stop and stare at him.

Kutso finally realized what was going on and became very self conscious. He had never had so many people staring at him before.

"Uh, hi," he said uncertainly waving.

The crowd burst into sound and motion, diving in on him, proclaiming him "the cutest damn thing" they had ever seen.

"He's such an autum," one said, " a true leafy winter."

Kutso had no idea what these people could possibly find fascinating about him.

"Look at those big brown eyes!" one exclaimed. "And that dark hair!" said another. "Isn't his get-up just divine? So simple. So sublime!" said yet another, "Get a look at those sandals! Tan! Tan sandals!"

They hosted a dinner in his honor that had so many different types of foods that Kutso didn't know what to do with himself. Everyone bombarded him with questions. Where did he come from? How did he get here? Was everyone in his village so adorable?

"They all look like me, if that's what you mean," Kutso said over and over again.

Then they had dessert and dancing, and by the end of the night Kutso was so tired, he barely took pleasure in the luxury feather bed he slept in that was so unlike his hay mat at home.

In the morning the people demanded that Kutso take a group of them to his village. They just had to see this adorable place he had described. Shrugging and waving his goodbyes, Kutso lead a small group all the way back to his village where they went ballistic with excitement. They just couldn't get over how quaint everything was.

The people of Kutso's village had no idea how to react. They had never even heard of anything like these crazy, colorful people. Not even in their dreams, for they also dreamed largely in brown and green tones. But the colorful people were so friendly and complimentary, it wasn't long before everyone started talking and getting along, admiring each other.

Kutso let out a sigh of relief. He had feared that they would take unkindly to these crazy different people, but instead, he found out that his people were just as bored as he was, even if they didn't know it yet. In fact, a group of them demanded to be taken to the other place to see it.

And of course, when they arrived, another group wanted to go back to his village.

In fact, for the next few years Kutso lead countless groups of people back and forth. In fact, most people started staying behind in the village that was new to them, until one day, as Kutso waited at the cave opening, ready to make yet another journey, he realized that no one was coming. A complete transplant had taken place so that everyone that lived in the colorful village, now lived in the brown village and vise versa.

At this point, Kutso didn't know what to do. It had become increasingly difficult to tell the two sets of people apart and hardly anything surprised anyone anymore. Kutso himself was indeed, growing a bit bored.

So what did he do? He set off again. This time in a new direction, in search of new things. In search of something else. In search of something more more.  And he found it, again and again. And he spread the news, again and again.


And one day, when he was very old, Kutso realized he had created not a village of travelers, but a world of travelers. And his descendents were always seeking more and always finding it. And on the day he died, he watched his Great, Great grandson get into a homemade ship and fly to the moon in search of even more, and he died a very happy man.

The End

Moral: If the grass is greener one yard over, it must even greener another yard over, and another and another and another and another and another...