A long, long, time ago, in a land far, far way there was a little boy named Foot Foot.
Foot Foot was a very, very, very, good little boy, except for one thing. It was just a little thing that was not very important. It was hardly even a bad thing at all. Sometimes, hardly ever really, Foot Foot liked to travel all by himself.
One day, Foot Foot decided to visit his grandfather who lived far, far, away. So, Foot Foot woke up early and started walking to visit his grandfather. By lunchtime he was very tired and very hungry, so he called his Mommy and his Daddy and asked them to come get him. Unfortunately, they did not hear him because he did not have a phone!
Eventually Foot Foot found a nice lady who had a cement mixer truck who drove him home.
Foot Foot still wanted to visit his grandfather, so the next day he got on his bicycle and headed off to see his grandfather. This time he did not get hungry and tired until 2 pm. Then he called his Mommy and Daddy to come get him. But they still did not hear him, because he still did not have a phone. So, Foot Foot waited until a train went buy and jumped on it. Soon he was home again.
The day after Foot Foot’s train ride, he really, really, really, wanted to see his grandfather. He thought and thought and thought and then he had a brilliant idea!
Foot Foot went to the garage and found a Foot Foot sized carton. He wrote “Deliver to My Pops” on the outside of the carton and put the carton on his wagon. Then Foot Foot went to the post office and bought 4,332 ½ stamps which he stuck on the outside of the carton. He put the carton next to the mailbox, jumped in and closed the carton from the inside. Soon the post woman came to take the mail from the mailbox, found the carton, lifted it up to put into her truck and screamed – “this box is so, so heavy.” Foot Foot yelled back, “No it’s not.” The post woman was so scared when she heard a talking carton that she dropped the carton, ran away and quit her job.
After a while, another post woman came and loaded the box into hertruck and drove away. When the truck stopped the postwoman delivered the carton to a nice old man’s house. The old man opened the box and looked at Foot Foot and asked, “who are you?” And Foot Foot said, “I am Foot Foot. Who are you?”
The old man said, “I am a man. And a brother. And a husband. And a father. And a grandfather.” Your box was addressed to “My Pops” so the mailman thought it was for me. I also thought it was for me. But you are not my grandson. You don’t look like him. You don’t talk like him. You don’t smell like him. And my grandson is smart enough to put my complete address on the carton when he mails himself to me.”
So Foot Foot cried. And the old man cried. And then the old man drove Foot Foot home.
And Foot Foot did not get to see his grandfather that day after all.
And when he got home, Foot Foot’s mother and father said, “FOOT FOOT – You are a bad little boy. We were very worried about you. Don’t ever do that again. Go up to your room and stay there until you are 18 years old.
And that is the end of the story.