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The Time-Traveling Teapot Tango
Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!
Agatha Buttercup was a collector of peculiar antiques. Her little cottage was crammed with oddities: a music box that played only the sound of a grumpy badger, a chair that vibrated whenever someone told a joke, and her most prized possession, a tarnished silver teapot that had a curious habit of humming.
One rainy afternoon, Agatha was dusting the teapot when it began to hum louder than usual, a strange, warbling tune. She picked it up, and suddenly, the room shimmered. When the shimmer faded, Agatha found herself standing not in her cozy cottage, but in a bustling, cobblestone street filled with people in remarkably tall hats. A horse-drawn carriage clattered past, and a baker was selling loaves of bread shaped like little castles.
“Good heavens!” Agatha gasped. “I believe I’ve… time-traveled!” The teapot, still in her hand, gave a smug little hum.
A man with an elaborate handlebar mustache tipped his tall hat at her. “Madam, may I assist you?”
Agatha, ever polite, curtsied. “Why, yes! Could you tell me the current… year?”
The man blinked. “It is, of course, 1888, my dear lady.”
Agatha nearly dropped the teapot. 1888! She looked down at her sensible modern clothes. She looked very out of place. Just then, the teapot started humming again, this time a lively, bouncy tune. Agatha, to her astonishment, felt her feet begin to tap. Then, her arms started to sway. Before she knew it, she was performing a spontaneous, rather clumsy tango in the middle of the street!
The tall-hatted man stared. A small crowd began to gather, murmuring and pointing. Agatha, despite her embarrassment, couldn't stop! The teapot was practically vibrating with rhythmic energy. She twirled past a shocked flower vendor, dipped past a bewildered chimney sweep, and spun around a confused street musician.
Finally, with a particularly energetic twirl, Agatha bumped into a lamp post. The teapot clanked against the metal, and the humming abruptly stopped. The world shimmered again, and Agatha found herself back in her quiet cottage, the rain still tapping softly on the windowpane.
She gasped for breath, her cheeks flushed. The teapot sat innocently on the table, looking as tarnished and unassuming as ever. Agatha poked it cautiously. No hum.
She sank into her vibrating chair, a smile slowly spreading across her face. A spontaneous tango in 1888! Who would have thought? Agatha decided then and there that she wouldn't be dusting the teapot quite so vigorously anymore. One never knew what adventures it might lead her on next, but she’d definitely pack a change of clothes – perhaps some sturdy dancing shoes – just in case.
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By Matthew MitchellVisit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!
Agatha Buttercup was a collector of peculiar antiques. Her little cottage was crammed with oddities: a music box that played only the sound of a grumpy badger, a chair that vibrated whenever someone told a joke, and her most prized possession, a tarnished silver teapot that had a curious habit of humming.
One rainy afternoon, Agatha was dusting the teapot when it began to hum louder than usual, a strange, warbling tune. She picked it up, and suddenly, the room shimmered. When the shimmer faded, Agatha found herself standing not in her cozy cottage, but in a bustling, cobblestone street filled with people in remarkably tall hats. A horse-drawn carriage clattered past, and a baker was selling loaves of bread shaped like little castles.
“Good heavens!” Agatha gasped. “I believe I’ve… time-traveled!” The teapot, still in her hand, gave a smug little hum.
A man with an elaborate handlebar mustache tipped his tall hat at her. “Madam, may I assist you?”
Agatha, ever polite, curtsied. “Why, yes! Could you tell me the current… year?”
The man blinked. “It is, of course, 1888, my dear lady.”
Agatha nearly dropped the teapot. 1888! She looked down at her sensible modern clothes. She looked very out of place. Just then, the teapot started humming again, this time a lively, bouncy tune. Agatha, to her astonishment, felt her feet begin to tap. Then, her arms started to sway. Before she knew it, she was performing a spontaneous, rather clumsy tango in the middle of the street!
The tall-hatted man stared. A small crowd began to gather, murmuring and pointing. Agatha, despite her embarrassment, couldn't stop! The teapot was practically vibrating with rhythmic energy. She twirled past a shocked flower vendor, dipped past a bewildered chimney sweep, and spun around a confused street musician.
Finally, with a particularly energetic twirl, Agatha bumped into a lamp post. The teapot clanked against the metal, and the humming abruptly stopped. The world shimmered again, and Agatha found herself back in her quiet cottage, the rain still tapping softly on the windowpane.
She gasped for breath, her cheeks flushed. The teapot sat innocently on the table, looking as tarnished and unassuming as ever. Agatha poked it cautiously. No hum.
She sank into her vibrating chair, a smile slowly spreading across her face. A spontaneous tango in 1888! Who would have thought? Agatha decided then and there that she wouldn't be dusting the teapot quite so vigorously anymore. One never knew what adventures it might lead her on next, but she’d definitely pack a change of clothes – perhaps some sturdy dancing shoes – just in case.