When I saw the grasshopper at the beach I, like any good-natured daydreamer, scooped it up with some of the sand it was on and carried it back to the dunes. I came back, feeling not quite like a hero but nonetheless quite good about myself. What a nice guy I am! Anyone else would have ignored the poor little thing.
Later, when the storms began and the sun disappeared I wondered where the heck I had put my inkwell that I had wanted to use for writing. The feather was still laying there forgotten between the notebook and some gadgets in my bag, but the ink? When had I last used it?
I had just wanted to ... and then I ... but I hadn't even opened it! And then I guess I forgot? ... What else happened? Oh. Oh me stupid, yes, of course, I saved the grasshopper and I guess, right. I probably forgot it in the dunes.
So it happened that on the search for my ink that I had wanted to use for stylish writing -- you know, not everybody writes with real feathers and dunks them into ink and stuff -- anyway, on the search for my inkwell I got completely surprised by the mighty storm that everybody had already fled from.
Ok, surprised not so much. But I stayed there quite a bit longer than I should have and when I finally indeed found my little bottle of real precious ink that I had bought at some expensive place in Malibu, the storm was all over me.
Not too funny. I still came back just in time for a change of clothes before going to that dinner party but I wouldn't have gotten completely soaked if not for that little grasshopper that probably knew exactly where it was going to…