Boy Falls Into Wishing Well; Refuses To Use His Wish To Save Himself

Tragedy struck Paul Bunyan Park in Bangor today, Modern Philosophers, when a young boy fell into the park’s wishing well.

Timmy LeClerk, age 8 1/2 of Brewer, had just made a wish and leaned over the edge to see if his quarter had made it to the bottom, when he lost his balance and fell into the well.

Timmy’s mother Virginia immediately contacted authorities, who are always on alert for such accidents (apparently, that wishing well has a tendency to gobble up children according to park officials).

This Modern Philosopher happened to be downtown at the time, so I rushed over to the park to watch the rescue efforts.

“Protocol for such instances is to ask the child in the well to use his wish to get himself out,” Park Director Terence D’Arby explained to me as a crowd gathered.  “Clearly, this would be much more cost effective and safer than sending rescue workers down into the well.  As expected, however, the young man is not willing to give up his wish.”

As the crowd of curious onlookers grew, news vans arrived, and rescue workers set up their equipment, Virginia LeClerk pleaded with her son to just use his wish to bring himself up to safety.  No matter how hard she tried, Timmy stubbornly refused to comply.

“What more can I do?” Virginia asked this Modern Philosopher between sobs as she wiped her tears on my toga.  “That quarter is his allowance and he talked all week about coming down to the well to make a wish…”

At the one hour mark, Park Protocol allowed for rescuers to descend into the darkness to rescue young Timmy, who from the sound of things, had spent the time filling his pockets with change from the well.  “This is going to do a number on the park’s budget,” Director D’Arby told me as he watched the first rescue worker disappear into the well.  “You have no idea how much the city charges us for well rescues.  I just wish the well would stop trying to eat all the children.”

Fifteen minutes later, Timmy LeClerk was back in his mother’s arms as the crowd cheered and the television reporters jockeyed for position.  Director D’Arby tried to pat down the young man for loose change, but Virginia would not allow him anywhere near her son.

Seeing how despondent the Park’s Director was at the bad publicity and economic crisis brought to his little patch of green, I decided to grant him his wish.  I made one quick call to my friend Waltzing Matilda, and Maine’s most accomplished Witch happily agreed to put a protection spell over the mouth of the well.

The Wishing Well in Paul Bunyan Park will now have to find another way to get its daily caloric intake.

And they all lived happily ever after.  Until the Zombies came.  And the Robot Apocalypse began.  This is Maine after all…