A Little English

Forty Stories - "Alone"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 02 Aug 2023 21:00:00 +0900

This is a story about popcorn, mostly. It's also about religion and weddings and cleaning. But mostly it's a story about microwave popcorn. It stars Matthew, who was sort of the villain of the story called "Flow." And if we're being honest, he's the villain of this story, too. But I love him. I hope you do as well.

👉The story begins at 2:00 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:12

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

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TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Before we begin, I’d like to say thank you for listening, and ask you to tell your friends about the show. I don’t do any advertising, so you spreading the word is really the only way that the audience can grow. Thank you so much!

Now

Where I come from, we were always taught that there are two things you don’t discuss at dinner: religion and politics. The reason for that is, because people will start shouting at each other. But this story opens with a conversation about religion. Ok it’s not a conversation, it’s people shouting at each other. But don’t worry. This is not really a story about religion. Actually it’s mostly about….popcorn?

Anyway, the name of this story is, “Alone,” which is also the name of my favorite song to sing at karaoke.

—------

“If it’s in a church, I’m not going,” said Matthew.

Mom and Dad were already dressed for the wedding. Dad was wearing his suit and Mom even put on earrings. They looked at each other and sighed. “He gets this from you,” said Mom.

Dad rested his head in his hands for a moment. Then he stood up and spoke to his son.

“Matthew, it’s a wedding. Of course it’s in a church.”

“Well if it’s in a church, then I am not going. I will not worship your false gods. You’ll have to leave me here.”

“You don’t have to worship anything. Just sit there like a normal human being and then we go and have cake. It’s a party. It’s a celebration of love.”

“It’s a lie!” shouted Matthew. “It’s all lies! It’s a scam! They scare you with stories of hell and pain forever. Then they take your money.”

“Matthew, it’s a congregational church. They don’t have any money.”

“I don’t care! They get money for free and then they don’t pay any taxes!

It’s the biggest scam in the world. And if you go, or if I go, we are saying that this scam is okay. So you can do whatever you want, but I’m not going.”

“This is just some stupid stuff you saw on the internet. You need to get off the computer and get out in the real world.”

“I AM in the real world, Dad! I believe in science and YOU PEOPLE believe in magic!”

“You don’t have to believe in the religion to go to a wedding, Matthew. You just go to support your family and friends on their big day.”

“I’m. Not. Going.” Matthew sat down on the floor.

His parents went to the living room. Matthew could hear them shouting at each other through the closed door. After a few minutes, they came out. Mom was fixing her eye makeup with a tissue. Dad spoke first.

“Fine. You’re fourteen years old now. If you want to stay home alone, you can. We will be back by ten pm. Try not to burn the house down.”

Four hours later, Matthew realized that he was hungry. He put down the game controller and wandered into the kitchen. He looked through the refrigerator but it was all his Mom’s gross health food stuff. So he went to the closet and got a bag of microwave popcorn.

“How long are you supposed to cook it for?” he said out loud to nobody. “Whatever.”

He put the bag in the microwave, set it for seven minutes, and went back to his video games. He was very busy killing zombies when he noticed a weird smell.

Like something burning. Something really, really horrible burning.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, no.”

Matthew ran into the kitchen. Black smoke was pouring out of the microwave and up the wall.

“Oh, no,” he said.

The popcorn bag was completely on fire.

“Oh, my god,” he said.

Little blue sparks started to explode inside the popcorn bag. He could hear them popping and sizzling. Matthew sat down on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth.

“Oh, my god,” he whispered. “Oh God, What do I do?”

And in that moment, he became totally, perfectly calm.

He stood up and unplugged the microwave. Its light went out and the humming sound stopped, but the fire and the tiny explosions continued.

He opened the microwave door. A huge cloud of black smoke came out. He coughed and waved his arms back and forth, trying to see the bag. When he found it, he threw it into the sink and turned on the water.

The fire was out. Matthew looked around. The bag of popcorn was now just a disgusting ball of ashes in the sink. The inside of the microwave was covered in burns. A line of black soot went up the wall from the microwave to the ceiling. Smoke hung in the air. And the smell. The smell of burnt popcorn was absolutely everywhere. It was the worst thing he had ever smelled in his entire life.

Matthew went to his computer. He searched for, “how to get black smoke off a white wall.” He searched for, “how to clean a microwave that I burned popcorn in.” He watched videos. He read websites. He got a notebook and a pen, and he made a plan.

First, he opened every window in the entire house. The summer air came in, so he turned off the air conditioning. He collected every fan in the house and pointed them out the kitchen windows. Then he scooped up the cool, wet, disgusting remains of the popcorn bag and took it out into the woods. He scattered the ashes around. The evidence was destroyed.

He came back into the house and mixed up a big bowl of vinegar and baking soda and he got a sponge. He cleaned the inside of the microwave. He cleaned the outside of the microwave. He sponged and scrubbed until his arms hurt. He checked the clock. His parents were coming home in an hour and a half.

Matthew climbed up on the counter. Following the instructions he had read on the internet, he wiped the smoke off the walls and the ceiling. He was very careful not to use too much water. He climbed down and stood back. It looked…pretty ok.

He put a bowl of vinegar and water in the microwave and set it to four minutes, to absorb the smell. The microwave worked. That was good. He collected all the fans and returned them to the rooms where they came from. He thought about closing the windows, but decided against it. He got a cloth and wiped down the counters and the sink just as his parents walked in the door.

They looked great. They were kind of sweaty and Matthew was pretty sure they had been drinking. Dad said, “Whoo! What’s that smell?”

“Oh hey guys,” said Matthew. “I’m really sorry. I microwaved some popcorn a little too long, but it’s ok. I took care of it. How was the wedding?”

—--------------

I’d like to point out I never burned the popcorn in the microwave like Matthew does in this story. But, when I was in high school, someone did. Some fourteen-year-old kid who had never actually made his own popcorn (like Matthew) put a bag in the microwave for like ten minutes. And oh my god. Have you ever smelled burning popcorn? Have you ever smelled a room that was full of popcorn smoke? It stayed around for days. Oh and by the way, you can watch videos of people intentionally burning popcorn on youtube. It’s pretty crazy looking.

So anyway, here are some tiny lessons.

First, let’s talk about the Big Picture.

Do you think that Matthew really believed all that stuff about the church? Go back and check the story again. I’ll wait.

I don’t think so. In my mind, Matthew really just wanted to skip the wedding and play video games all day. I think that’s a pretty normal thing that kids do, especially at that age.

Now, wanna have a dance at the Dictionary Disco?

Our first word is, SCAM. As in, “church is a SCAM.” That’s like a cheat. Specifically, it’s a business or some kind of organization that is totally not what it says it is, and exists only to steal money.

The second word is, GROSS. Like, “Mom’s gross health food.” That’s just a really informal way of saying “Disgusting.” Kids say GROSS all the time. Adults too. But, you know, with friends. Not in a business meeting.

Finally, let’s have a Melody Moment.

I wanna talk about “Oh my God.” I say it three times in this story. And each time there are three different meanings. First there is (OMG1) which is expressing fear. It’s short, it’s fast, and the MY isn’t even a “my” at all. It’s a “mi.” The second time is (OMG 2) This is Matthew realizing just how badly he has screwed up. It’s an expression of despair. It’s slower and clearer, with space between the words. Then the third one is (OMG3) That’s when I was talking about the popcorn incident in my high school. That’s the slowest one of all, and it’s used for…dramatic effect. Like I want you to know just how bad that smell was. I can still remember that smell, twenty-five years later. Ugh. Anyway, the same words, with three different melodies, intonations, and even a little bit of vowel shortening can have three totally different meanings. Cool, right?

Sooooo let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 17 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Chiba, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

This season, all the stories are written by…me! Honestly, I’m not even using ChatGPT for editing any more. I’m just writing.

So, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

forty Stories - "Mixtape"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 19 Jul 2023 21:00:00 +0900

Have you ever lost a friend? Not, like, lost them at a concert. I mean, have any of your friends died? A few of mine have. This is a story about losing a friend. And the pain of losing that friend. It's a story about how groups of friend cope with the loss of a member. And about family, and brothers. But mostly, it's a song about the power of silly pop songs. I hope you love it, because I'm very proud of this story.

Season 3 Episode 16

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 03:20 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:45

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

I hope you guys are all enjoying this Forty Stories project. If you are, please do me a huge favor and share this show with a friend. Do you know anyone else who likes podcasts? Or who is trying to improve their English? Please share this show with them. I don’t do any advertising or anything, so I need your help to reach a larger audience. Thank you!

I think I can safely say that we have entered act two of forty stories. Pretty much every story has three acts. There is a beginning, a middle and an end. Middles are usually the hardest part to write. But actually I’m really excited about this, because it means I’m done introducing characters. The world is built. So it’s time to really explore these people and this world. Time to have them meet each other and interact! I think it will be really exciting.

By the way, there is a content warning on this story. It’s about death. Specifically, it takes place a few years after someone commits suicide. So nobody dies in the story, but somebody did die a few years ago. So if you don’t feel good about listening to that right now, come back another time. It’s a good story, and important, but it’s kind of…heavy.

Also, there are a lot of song titles in this story. And I think that if you don’t know the songs, it would be very helpful for you to read the transcript, get the names and listen to them on youtube or whatever. I think the story will make more sense when you hear the songs.

So anyway, here’s the story. It’s called “Mixtape”

I thought I was early, but they were already waiting for me. Kevin and Ben were sitting in camping chairs around a pile of wood. And there was another person with them. Maybe a girl? Or a little kid? Either way, I was pretty upset. It took a few minutes to climb down from the top of the sand dune, and a few more to get close to where they were sitting. The mystery person was sitting on the other side of the pile of wood.

I dropped my case of beer down next to me and just started yelling. “Guys, what is this? This is supposed to be our night. Remember, we talked about this? No girlfriends, nobody but us and - “

The kid stood up, and I could see that it was Finn. He was apologizing.

“Tommy, I’m not gonna stay. I was just talking to Kevin last week, and I told him about this thing that I found, and we thought you all should see it. Or, like, hear it.”

I was so shocked that I just sat down in the sand.

“Oh Finn,” I said, “I’m so sorry, kid. I had no idea it was you. I thought one of these knuckleheads brought their girlfriend or something. I had no idea, dude.”

Kevin spoke up.

“Nobody is trying to mess with tradition, Tommy. It’s just us and Mark here tonight. I mean I was thinking that sooner or later Finn should join us, but he’s only - how old are you, Finn?”

“I’m twelve.”

“Right so Finn’s only in - seventh grade?”

“Sixth.”

“Sixth grade, right. So he’s not really old enough to, like, hang out. But I was thinking, maybe he’s old enough to hang out for a minute anyway. And then he brought me this tape.”

He handed me a cassette tape. Like from the 80s. Like, for music. The case was clear plastic, with a folded paper insert. The writing on the paper was definitely Mark’s. It looked like a teenage girl had done it. It read, “Mark’s Pop Mix, Volume One.” It didn’t have a tracklist.

“So like, do we have something that can play this thing?”

Ben smiled at me. “We do, but we’re waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For midnight.”

Finn walked home around ten. By midnight, the fire on the beach was going strong and so were we. Ben had borrowed his mom’s old boom box and bought about a dozen batteries for it. We were playing songs off our phones and counting down the minutes.

At 12:01, Kevin raised his beer into the air, and shouted towards the ocean.

“I would like to make a toast to our dear departed friend, Mark Anderson, who left us two years ago today, just eleven days before his twenty-second birthday. Are you out there, buddy? It’s your boys here. Kevin and Ben and Tommy.”

He paused for a minute, and looked back at us. We both gave him thumbs up, so he continued shouting into the ocean.

“Mark, we miss you. We don’t know why you had to go, but we love you so much. Your little brother brought us this mixtape that you made, and we thought that this would be the right time and place to listen to it. So, if you don’t mind, we’re gonna give it a listen. OK?”

The wind blew and the waves crashed on the beach. The fire popped and hissed. Ben hit play on the boombox.

The first song was “One” by U2. Ben put the boombox down in the sand, and sat down in his chair. The song built up and crashed down, and Ben covered his face with his hands.

Things didn’t get any easier from there. “Karma Police,” by Radiohead. “Nothing Compares 2U” by Sinead O’Connor. “In the Air Tonight,” by Phil Collins. We sat in the sand, silent until we heard the click from the tape.

“Is that the end?” I asked.

“That’s the end of side one.” Ben’s eyes were red. So were Kevin’s. So were mine.

“Are we gonna listen to side two?”

“I think we have to,” said Kevin.

“I need another beer, first. We all do.”

We cracked our cans open and touched them together. Ben turned the tape over and hit play. It was “Purple Rain.” Purple freaking Rain by Prince. I don’t know why, but this was too much for me. I couldn’t think or breathe right. I picked up a rock the size of a baseball and I threw it into the ocean.

“What the hell, man?” I screamed to the waves. “Why did you do this to us? We needed you here with us!” Kevin wrapped his arms around me and we crashed down into the sand.

“Maybe if he wasn’t listening to such depressing pop music all the time, he would have stayed here with us instead of walking into the ocean. Why couldn’t he just listen to like some metal or something angry? Or happy? Or, I dunno. Anything other than this sad old garbage.”

Kevin held onto me very tightly and let me cry into his chest.

“Um, you have to open the paper.” We heard a small voice coming from behind us.

We all stopped. Ben turned on the flashlight on his phone. Finn raised his hand to keep the light out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I hid over there behind the dune. I just really wanted to hear the tape, too.”

We all just stood there, drunk, covered in sand, wiping tears from our faces and stared at him.

“But, like I said. You gotta open the little paper insert and read it.”

“What is it, like a suicide note,” said Ben, “cuz there is no way-“

“He didn’t leave a note,” said Finn. “And I’m pretty sure he made this mix a while before he… Just read it,” and he handed the cassette tape box to me.

I opened it slowly and pulled out the little piece of paper. It shook in my hands as I unfolded it.

On the inside, in bright sparkly letters, it just said, “Sing along.”

“Sing along?” I looked at Finn. “I don’t get it.”

“These songs,” said Finn. “You gotta sing them. I think they’re only depressing if you sit there listening. I think it’s a karaoke mix.”

Ben laughed a little and mumbled quietly. “Purple rain, purple rain.” Kevin joined him. “Purple rain, purple rain.” I joined in, and so did Finn.

We continued to sing, through “Back in the High Life,” by Steve Winwood and “Your Smiling Face” by James Taylor. By the time the tape ended on “Man in the Mirror,” by Michael Jackson, we were all standing, smiling, shouting into the wind, tears streaming down our faces.

“Play it again,” said Finn. “Play the whole tape again.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But first, let’s text Mrs. Anderson and tell her that Finn is with us.”

Whoooo, how you guys doing? Was that too sad? Honestly, I don’t know. But I like it. I think this might be my favorite story in this project so far. When I was in college, a friend of mine died. He didn’t kill himself, but he did die, and it really messed us up. So writing this story was a way for me to sort of explore those emotions, but not to make it all about me and my life and my friends. Plus, I got to share a bunch of amazing pop songs with you guys. I hope that if you don’t know these songs, you’re gonna listen to them immediately. And if you do know, I hope they got you to feel some feelings!

Let’s do some tiny lessons

The Big Picture is, of course, an ocean scene.

Why did they wait until midnight to play the tape? Take a minute and think about it. I think they did it because they wanted to wait until the anniversary of his death. They said that it was two years ago today, and they said that after midnight.

How about a dance at the Dictionary Disco?

The first word is maybe the best word ever. Knucklehead. A knucklehead is an idiot. A stupid person. Like your knuckles are solid bone, right? So a knucklehead is someone whose head is solid bone. No room for a brain. It’s a great insult.

The second vocabulary word is, Boombox. A boombox is an old kind of portable stereo. All you young people don’t know about these, but it was basically a radio and a tape player, and two speakers, ina box but you could power it with batteries and carry it around

Finally, let’s have a Melody Moment. I wanna talk about Accents. Specifically I wanna tlak about Tommy’s accent. Tommy is from Massachusetts. How do I know? Because I’m from Massachusetts, and he talks like people I grew up with. Actually everyone in Forty Stories is from Massachusetts, more or less. But Yeah so, Massachusetts accent. What make you sound like super massachusetts? No R’s. Cah and heah and theah. It actually sounds very English to my eahs. But that makes sense because Massachusetts is in New England. I don’t have this accent, but it’s super fun to do it. I wanna do more.

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode16 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Chiba, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

This season, all the stories are written by…me! HOnestly, I’m not even using ChatGPT for editing any more. I’m just writing.

So;., thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Brave"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 05 Jul 2023 22:45:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 15

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 03:40 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:15

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Before we get started, I’d like to ask you a favor. I really hate social media, and I don’t really want to pay for advertisements. That means, the only way to grow the audience of A Little English is…you. If you’re enjoying the show, and you think it’s helping you learn, please go tell someone about it. You guys must have done it the last couple weeks, because listeners are going up! Please keep going! I’m very grateful for the help!

This week’s story is about horses. Have you ever ridden a horse? I have. Actually, I grew up in the country and our neighbors had a horse boarding business. That means that rich people from Boston, who didn’t have any space to keep a horse, they would rent a spot for it from our neighbors. And then come ride them on weekends and stuff. So I grew up like right next to horses. They were around all the time. But I never got to ride those, because they were someone’s like private, luxury item.

Later, when I was a kid at camp (like we talked about last episode), I did learn to ride. We went for two or three or five-day camping trips, riding horses all over Colorado. I was probably 12 years old, and I just can’t believe how lucky I was that I got to do that. Man I gotta write a story about that camp, one of these days.

Anyway, let’s get to the story. It’s called “Brave,” and it has nothing to do with the animated movie. Sorry, nobody turns into a bear.

—-------------

“Careful now,” said Dad. “Don’t show him your fingers. He might think they’re little carrots and take a bite.”

Cassandra froze, terrified. “It’s OK,” the teacher said. “Just be careful. Turn your hand around and let him smell the back of it. Like with a dog.” Cassandra got a little closer. The horse was enormous, and it smelled like sweat and dust and grass. She took another step towards it and held out her hand.

The horse leaned its head in and sniffed her. Its breath was so loud! When it opened its mouth, Cassandra could hear the sound of its lips separating. When the mouth closed again, she could actually hear its teeth bang together. It was like hearing someone breathe or talk right next to your ear, except it wasn’t even that close!

Cassandra knew a lot about horses. She had a few books and a lot of youtube channels on her mom’s phone. She knew about bridles and saddles and she knew how to brush a horse’s fur after a ride. She knew that you start from the front and go to the back, never the other way. She knew how much horses love being brushed. But she didn’t know until today what they smell like. And she didn’t know how noisy they were.

The horse didn’t bite her. It breathed in and out over her hand until it decided she didn’t have any food, so it put its head down and searched the dusty floor for something to eat. Cassie reached up further and put her hand on its shoulder. The muscles moved under its skin. She was mesmerized.

“You wanna get up in the saddle?” asked the teacher. Cassie was pretty sure her name was Sarah. She shook her head. Dad frowned.

“Why not?”

“You said it’s gonna bite my fingers off.”

“Well, no, I said you gotta be careful. Are you scared?”

That was a difficult question to answer. Cassie thought about it for a minute. “Yes.”

“Well, what do we always say about being scared?”

They said it together. “You can’t be brave if you’re not afraid.”

Cassie nodded at this, and then reached up to the teacher. Sarah grabbed her under the armpits and lifted her into the saddle. This was very high up indeed. She was taller than the teacher. She was the biggest.

When the teacher patted the horse on the neck, it started to walk. Cassie couldn’t believe it. Her whole body leaned right, then left, as the horse put one foot in front of the other and made a slow circle of the barn.

“Faster,” said Cassie. Her Dad looked up from his phone in alarm.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t no need to go faster. You just got up on the damn thing.”

The teacher agreed with her Dad. She wanted her to go slow. Everyone wanted her to go slow, but Cassie knew a lot about horses.She knew how to make them go fast. So she raised her little hand up high, shouted, “YAA,” and got ready to slap the horse on its neck, until she felt Sarah gently but firmly holding her arm. Sarah was shaking her head and she looked very serious.

The horse did nothing. It just kept walking slowly along like nothing had happened. But now Dad had started walking towards them, yelling and waving his phone around. “Now, Cassie what did I just say to you? You can’t go around hitting a horse! I paid a lot of money for these lessons and you can’t just go off and whack these things. They’re very intelligent and beautiful creatures, Cassie, and they-”

and that’s when Dad tripped on something.

Maybe it was a rock or a piece of wood in the dust of the riding ring. But Dad tripped and fell, and when he fell, he made a lot of noise. His phone flew through the air, past Cassie’s face and it hit the horse right behind its left ear.

The horse made a surprised noise. Cassie knew that noise from youtube, but this was so much louder. She could feel it in her chest. Then the horse stood up on on its two back feet. Cassie leaned forward and wrapped her hands around the horse’s neck. The horse brought its two front feet back down with a crash. Dust flew up around Cassie and she couldn’t see.

Then the horse started running. It ran a full circle around the barn, and then another. Cassie held on to its mane, crying and screaming. Every galloping step threw her body into the air and every time she came crashing back down onto the saddle. She held on until she couldn’t feel her fingers any more. It seemed like a thousand years before the horse slowed down and finally stopped.

Sarah the teacher and Dad arrived at the same time. Both breathing heavily and asking her if she was ok. Cassie just cried and cried and cried. Sarah held the horse while Dad pulled Cassie down and held her until she calmed down.

“I wanna get back on,” she said, as soon as she had blown her nose and wiped her tears. “I wanna get back on.”

“No way,” said her Dad. “Your momma’s already gonna kill me when she hears about this. If you get back on that thing, and then something else bad happens, it’s gonna be the end of ol Robbie Nash. She’ll kill me deader than a-”

“Are you afraid?”

“Hell yes, I’m afraid! I’m afraid you’re gonna get hurt and then I’m gonna get even more hurt, by your mom!”

“Well,” said Cassie, very seriously, “What did you tell me about being afraid?”

“You can’t be brave unless you’re afraid.” They said it together.

“Man, you’re not supposed to turn those things around on me like that. You know? I’m supposed to be teaching you lessons, kid.”

“So get on with me. We’ll both ride.”

Dad just stood there, staring at her for a minute.

“Yeah ok, we’ll both ride. Sure no big deal. We’ll just both go for a little pony ride.”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his hand.

“Yeah.”

—

What do you think? Was Cassandra brave? Could you be that brave? You remember Cassie, and Robbie, from our other stories. At least Robbie is spending this weekend with his family, right? But I thought he was an actor in a play. Aren’t theater actors like, really busy on weekends? Hmmmmm weird. I guess we will have to check back in on that play. Maybe things aren’t going too well?

Anyway let’s get to the tiny lessons.

The Big Picture has lots of running horses in it, that’s for sure.

I’d like to know why you think that Cassie was NOT afraid at the end, but Robbie was. Take a minute and go back and think about it. If you’re a parent you already know. It’s because kids are dumb. I mean, Cassie is a smart kid, but kids have no real sense of danger. Not like adults do. And Robbie, he just saw his kid almost die, because he did a stupid thing. Every parent knows that fear. I sure do.

And the Dictionary Disco? Feel like a boogie?

Both of our vocabulary words today are horse vocabulary. So kind of specialized, but not too crazy. And they’re both actually kinda useful for people, too.

So a mane is the horse’s hair. The long skinny line of hair that goes down its neck. That’s the mane. A male lion also has a mane. And so you could say that a person has a mane of hair, if it’s kind of wild looking and…animalistic.

Similarly, a gallop is a special kind of running that horses do. You know, you’ve seen an Indiana Jones movie. When the horses go really really fast, they are galloping. Technically it’s when they go so fast that all four feet come off the ground at once. But again you can use it for people. When someone is running like a horse? Say they’re galloping. It sounds better.

And the melody moment?

Let’s talk about plosives. I think we already did, but that was almost a year ago, so it’s ok. Plosives are wild. Sounds like explode, right? Because that’s what you do. You make a little explosion with your lips. A little POP of air comes out. So for p and t and k, and their voiced friends, B and D and G, you gotta make a little bit of air shoot out. You can test it. Just put your hand in front of your mouth and try it. Say P, B whatever. If you can literally feel the little explosion on your hand, you’re doing it right!

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 15 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Chiba, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

This season, all the stories are written by…me! I use chatGPT by Openai.com as an editor because I can’t afford to hire a human. It’s an amazing, free piece of software, and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Shelter"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 21 Jun 2023 21:15:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 14

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:50 and the tiny lessons begin at 11:40

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Before we get started, I’d like to ask you a favor. If you’re enjoying the show, and you think it’s helping you learn, please go tell someone about it. The best thing you can do for a podcast is to share it with someone who might enjoy it. Thank you so much!

Today’s story is about camping. Do you go camping? I used to go a lot. But this year, since I moved to Chiba, I haven’t been yet. I really miss it. When I was a kid, I went to summer camp every year and it was amazing. Actually, I should make that one of the forty Stories. Hey, good idea!

Anyway, this story is called “Shelter,” and it’s about how frustrating it is to put up a tent. And some other stuff.

—---

The sky was orange and the clouds were pink. The sun’s reflection was sparkling in the lake, and my father was swearing quietly. “Dammit,” he said. “I told you, Evan. I told you we had to leave earlier. Now we’re gonna have to set up the tent in the dark.” His t-shirt was already soaked in sweat.

We arrived in front of the main office, and the car skidded a bit in the dirt. Dad sat very still for a moment. Then he slowly took his hands off the steering wheel. His fingers were white. He looked around at all the campsites full of happy families, and took a deep breath. “At least we have a reservation. Come on.”

We dragged all our gear past rows and rows of brightly-colored tents and fantastic barbecue smells. I could barely see over the bag of groceries in my arms , and I almost tripped over running, screaming kids. Pop music thudded from a speaker somewhere. Dad frowned and whispered to me, “Maybe other people don’t wanna listen to your crappy music, guys. Know what I mean, Evan?” I liked that song, but I didn’t say anything.

Finally, we came crashing into the last empty campsite. We threw all the equipment down and stood there for a moment sweating and breathing hard in the thick summer air. We must have looked pretty funny, because our neighbor smiled at us when he waved. This guy didn’t even have a tent, just a fancy-looking hammock hanging between two trees. He was sitting on his little cooler, smoking a cigarette and messing with his fire.

“Come on, Evan,” said Dad. “Let’s get this stupid tent up.” He stared at me, waiting for something. “The poles!” I found the bag of poles and tried to get one out. “Just dump them all out. Come on, man. We have to hurry. Everyone else is already eating. Look, just hold the pole. Just hold it right there, while I fix it on this side. It’s not that hard.”

He was sitting on the ground cross legged, trying to fit his end of the pole into the little loop at the corner of the tent and making little noises. It was hot and he pulled on the pole really hard and I lost my grip on my side of it. “Come on, buddy! What are you even doing to me here? Just hold it steady so we can get this thing up, and then we can eat!”

“I don’t know how to do this, Dad,” I told him. “You and mom always set up the tent.” As soon as I mentioned Mom, his face changed. His eyes closed, and his jaw got very hard. He let go of the pole, which flopped away from him. He stopped messing with the pole and looked up at me. “And now she’s not here any more, is she? So you and me gotta get it done. So just, like, get on my team for one minute here, you know?”

Once the tent was up, we had to start the bbq in the dark. Dad forgot to bring a lighter so he sent me out to ask one of our neighbors. I walked over to the single guy next door. He was smoking and messing around with the wood in his little grill. A half-empty bottle of whiskey was sitting on the ground next to his camp chair.

“Hi, sir, sorry to bother you. Do you have a lighter? My dad forgot to bring one.” The guy reached into a few different pockets before he pulled out an old, beaten-up zippo. He handed it to me without looking up from his fire. From behind me, I could hear my Dad say a truly horrible word, pause, then say it again, louder. I think he was talking to a chair.

“Seems like he’s forgotten a lot of stuff,” said the guy. He had an accent like he was from the South.

“Mom used to do a lot of the packing. Actually, she and my big sister used to do most of the stuff when we went camping. Dad really just drove and then drank a lot of beer.”

“And where’s everyone tonight?”

“Well, Mom moved in with her boyfriend, Sarah’s in college, and Alexander is staying at Mom’s house. So like, Dad is trying to do things like the old days, but it’s just the two of us.” I looked around at his campsite. “Do you have a family?”

“Yeah, but they’re not invited. This is my time,” said the guy. “I come out here, I do a little fishing, eat what I catch, and I drink that whole bottle of whiskey by myself. I don’t have to do anything for anyone, and I don’t have to listen to anybody’s nonsense. I just do what I like for two days.”

“My Dad quit drinking. He thought Mom would come back to him if he quit, but it was too late. She’d already met Brandon.”

“Sounds like he’s kind of a nut even when he’s sober. It’s probably for the best he quit.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely easier this way. Anyway, thank you for the lighter. I promise I’ll bring it back. My name is Evan.”

“No problem,” said the man. “My name’s Robbie.”

I thanked Robbie and started walking back to our camp. Dad had finished setting up the campsite and was standing with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily as he looked over his work. “Did you get it?” he asked.

I showed him the zippo. “Yeah. He’s a really nice guy.”

“More like a real weirdo,” said Dad. “Who the hell goes camping by themselves? The whole point of camping is to be with friends and family, you know?”

“I think maybe his home life isn’t so great.”

“That’s so sad,” said Dad. “Why doesn’t he just leave them if it’s so bad?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, and changed the subject. “What do we need to do to start this fire?”

—---

So that’s my camping story. I actually wrote that one last summer after a camping trip. It’s really strange to read it now, and see how much my writing style has changed in the last year. And, the Robbie character in this story, he’s based on a real guy I saw last year. This guy was doing exactly what Robbie does in this story. He was sleeping in a hammock, fishing, and drinking all by himself. And I wondered: does this guy have a family? What do they think about him camping by himself on the weekend? I mean we’ve met Robbie and we’ve met his family before. How do Kim and Cassandra feel about this?

Anyway, how about some tiny lessons?

The Big Picture is, I guess, a picture of a lake?

Here’s a question for you: why does Sam, Mr. Lewis, the dad, get so angry about everything? The answer is there, I think, but kinda between the lines. So maybe pause and think about it. I think the Dad is angry because his whole family has changed. And he’s really sad about it. And a lot of men, they don’t know how to be sad. They think it’s not ok to be sad. So they replace sadness with anger.

How about a dance at the Dictionary Disco?

Our first vocabulary word today is: crappy. Crap is a slang way of saying, well, poo. So if you say that something is crappy, you’re saying it’s like…poop. It’s not a swear word exactly. You can say it on television. Actually it’s kind of a more polite way of saying another word, which I’m not gonna say here, because this is kind of a family-friendly show.

The second word is: Flopped. This is a great word. It just means to fall down. But it’s like a very specific kind of falling. Kind of loose and undignified. Like if you’re very tired, you could flop down into a chair. But also, a movie that loses money? That’s a flop. It flopped. Kind of makes sense, right?

And finally, a lovely melody moment.

I want to talk about….biting your lip. Yes. Biting your lower lip. Like in “Evan” or “Flopped” the V and F sounds, those are called labiodental sounds. Labio means lips and dental means teeth. So literally the name of the sound is lips on teeth. In order to make them correctly, you’ve gotta touch your bottom lip with your top front teeth. So, if you’re saying Evan, or Flopped and you’re not biting your lower lip….bite harder!

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 14(!) of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Chiba, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Advanced Dungeons and Dragons"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 07 Jun 2023 22:30:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 13

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 02:40 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:10

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s start with some notes! I got some feedback on the last episode. First of all, I made a mistake with someone’s name, which made the whole story very hard to understand. Sorry! I fixed it now. Second, I’ve heard that sometimes it’s hard to know when we have changed scenes. So I have made up a new sound. It sounds like this: (ping) That’s how you know that some time has passed between the last scene and the new one.

Now! This is a story about Dungeons and Dragons, or DnD. Do you know what that is? Do you play? I do. But if you don’t, don’t worry. The story’s not really about playing the game. Just go watch the first episode of Stranger Things and you’ll understand everything you need to. It’s more about what it means to be a nerd. Because, well, that has changed a lot over the years. These days, being a nerd is cool. But when I was a kid, it really, really wasn’t. And there are still a lot of people who are pretty upset about those old days and…well, I’m giving away the ending. So, let’s just listen!

This story is named after my favorite episode of the TV show Community: It’s called….Advanced Dungeons and Dragons!

“If Alexander doesn’t get here in the next ten seconds, we’re starting without him,” said Frankie. The kids around the table all nodded.

“Three, two, one. OK, screw him. Let’s go around the table and introduce our characters. Babe?”

Mandy looked up from her phone and said, “I’m, uh, Kai Highfeather, a wood elf wizard.”

“Cool! Corey?”

Lonnegan said “My name is Bimble Bogwater. I’m a halfling sorcerer.“ He stopped and stared at the floor as everyone started laughing.

“A halfling?” gasped Finn. “You’re a halfling?”

“What’s funny about that?”

“Dude, you’re like, eight feet tall. Why don’t you play an orc?”

Lonnegan’s face turned red. “I dunno, I thought that like, the whole point of the game is we can be anything.”

Frankie put out his hands. “You guys. You guys! Come on! Let him be a halfling. If he-“ and now he was interrupted by the sound of the door banging open.

Everyone looked up the stairs to see Alexander standing in the doorway. His face was bright red and he was completely out of breath. He was holding a large book to his chest.

“YOOOOO!” He shouted. “You guys gotta see this. You GOTTA see this.” He jumped down the stairs two at a time, and slammed the book onto the table. Dice and pencils fell on the floor.

“Dude, calm down!” said Frankie.

“Don’t worry about that, dude. Look at this.” He pulled the book open and showed it to everyone. It was a photo of three boys, posing in the school library. This was their high school library! But the fashion was all wrong. It was at least twenty years ago. The kids in the photo were holding up books with dragons and wizards on them.

“The names,” said Alexander. “Look at the names.”

They all leaned in to stare at the tiny names under the picture.

Samuel Lewis

“Dude,” whispered Frankie. “Your dad…was the leader of the high school Dungeons and Dragons club?

———

The next day, Frankie stayed at school after the last bell. He walked down the long, boring hallways to the faculty area, and found Mr. Lewis’ office. He knocked politely on the door.

“Come in.”

Mr. Lewis was at his desk, grading papers.

“Oh, young Mister Gallagher. What can I do for you today?”

“Well, actually, I had a question for you, Mr. Lewis. See, um, Alexander and I, we’re in a kind of gaming group together, and uh, well, he found this yearbook, in the library, from 1999.”

Mr. Lewis put his pencil down. “Yes?”

“Well, uh yeah. So, it says that you were in the DnD club all four years of high school. Like, at this high school.”

Mr. Lewis leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “And?”

“And…is it true? Were you a gamer?”

Mr. Lewis winced and breathed in sharply at that word.

“Back in the nineties, Mister Gallagher, a ‘gamer’ was not something you wanted to be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My friends and I got beaten up almost every day for playing games. ”

“Like, bullied?”

“Yes. In the nineties, the kids who were into computers, or comic books, or theater were outcasts. Freaks! We were afraid of athletes like you. You would lock us in our lockers or stuff us into trash cans! And oh my god, if anybody ever found out that a baseball star like Frankie Gallagher was playing Dungeons and Dragons?? It would be an enormous scandal!”

Frankie just stared at him.

“So, Mister Lewis, Alexander and I were kind of wondering…if we started a DnD club, here at school, next year, would you be our faculty sponsor?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t mind that Alexander wants to play. That’s his business. But I have spent the last twenty years building up a reputation as a serious educator and a serious person around this school. Dungeons and Dragons is not a serious activity. Games are just…for fun.”

Frankie tried to object. “Mr. Lewis, things are different now. There are people whose whole job is just playing DnD on YouTube. It’s cool to play DnD! And we have a lot of fun playing with your son. He’s a really good player! He’s the cleric, and we can always count on him to heal us when we do something stupid. He’s a really good kid, sir.”

Mr. Lewis frowned at Frankie. “I’m afraid I’m very busy, Mr. Gallagher. Say hello to your brother for me.”

Frankie closed the door quietly behind him as he left.

——

“OK,” said Frankie. “Welcome back to Dungeons and Dragons! Does anyone want to remind us what happened last week?”

Lonnegan said, “Alexander found out that his dad used to play DnD in the 90’s, and so you asked his dad to sponsor our club for next year, but he said no.”

Alexander sank further into his seat. He looked like he was going to cry.

Frankie put his head in his hands.

“Damnit Corey, not that. I meant in the game.”

“Oh. Sorry, Frankie. Well, we went to the fairy lands and we agreed to find a magic sword for the Queen of Summer, but then we got attacked by a bunch of mimics disguised as cute teddy bears. Finn and Mandy and I were almost killed, but Alexander managed to save us by casting Mass Healing Word. Then the whole army of evil teddy bears turned towards Alexander and jumped on him. He was going to roll for-“

Again the door at the top of the stairs banged open.

There, standing in the light from the kitchen, was Mr. Lewis. He was holding at least a dozen books in his arms, his hair was a mess and he had a huge smile on his face.

“What edition do you kids play?”

Alexander stood up out of his chair. “Fifth edition,” he said. “They haven’t released the new one yet.”

Mr. Lewis walked carefully down the stairs. “Get rid of that crap! I’m gonna teach you about the real deal! Advanced Dungeons and Dragons. You kids wanna learn about DnD, I’m gonna teach you how to really play!”

The kids quickly cleared the table off. Mr. Lewis dropped the huge stack of books on the table, turned to his son and said, “Alexander, tell me about your character."

So, I think you should know something. Aside from Frankie, every single person in this story is someone we’ve met before. We have sort of finished the first act of Forty Stories. We’ve met almost all of the characters. Now, I’m gonna start revealing how they all know each other, and how they are related to each other. So if you want to try and keep up, go back to some old episodes and try to figure out who is who. They’re all in there somewhere. If they haven’t been a main character yet, they will be!

Let’s do some tiny lessons!

For the big picture tonight, let’s talk about nerds. Specifically, I want you to answer, why does Sam, Mr. Lewis, hate being a nerd or a gamer so much? Go back and check. I think he has a lot of shame from his time in high school. That happens to people. When you hear again and again that you should feel bad about who you are, even if you hear it from bad people, you kind of start to believe it. So let me tell you: never be ashamed of who you are!

How about the Dictionary Disco?

The first word for tonight is: wince. You know when you’re really embarrased? Or when you have a really bad headache? You know that face you make? Where you close your eyes and kind of squish your whole face together? That’s a wince. You’re…wincing.

And the second vocabulary word is: faculty. The faculty at a school are the staff members who teach there. And the faculty area is the place where they can hang out and drink coffee, or have their offices. I’m the faculty at my university. Very fancy!

And finally, let’s share a melody moment. I love this phrase: “back in the nineties” I’ll say it again. Back in the nineties. (sounds) You hear that? There’s intonation there. But listen to that “in the’ It’s not Back. In. The. Nineties. It’s BackunthuhNinedies. IN? No. un. THEEE? Noooo. Thuh. NineTies? Nooooooooo. That’s a D sound. NineDies. Why? Like always, it’s because it’s easier to say. So try it. Say “Back in the Nineties.” but say it……Melodically.

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 13(!) of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Chiba, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Scandalous"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 24 May 2023 22:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 12

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at XXXX and the tiny lessons begin at XXXX

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Today’s story is about gossip and scandal, and maybe some romance. In a retirement village. You know, an old folk’s home. Now you might think, “those people are old! They don’t do romance!” And let me tell you, that is not true. If you don’t believe me, just go ask google. Do a search, in English or in your first language about old people romances. But, uh. You have been warned. Old people get WILD.

Now, anyway, here’s my story about two best friends and their adventures in the retirement village. It’s called…..”Scandalous.”

—-

"Karen," whispered Susan, in her best conspiracy voice, "has got a boyfriend."

"Karen who?" replied Dominic. He leaned in until Susan could smell the coffee on his breath .

"Karen Friedlander. From Greenfield. She lives down the hall from me."

"How do you know?"

"Well, you know how I don't sleep well anymore? I wake up at least twice a night to go to the bathroom, and then it takes me a long time to get back to sleep. Sometimes I'm laying there for an hour, just staring at the ceiling."

"I've been listening to podcasts. Do you know about podcasts? It really helps you fall asleep. You should-"

"Don't interrupt me, Dom. Now, where was I? Ah yes so last night, I heard him. It must have been two o'clock in the morning, and I heard him sneaking down the hall."

"Sneaking?"

"Yes, sneaking. Like tiptoeing. Like, not walking the way a security guard walks."

"So you heard someone walking-"

"Sneaking-"

"Sneaking in the hall, and you think that means Karen has a boyfriend?" Dominic leaned back, unimpressed. He took another sip of coffee.

"No!" Susan leaned in to him now. She put her hand on his knee. "I thought it was strange, because who goes walking around in here at two a.m? But then Karen opened her door. I know it was hers, because Jody's apartment is right next to mine, and it definitely wasn't that one.

"What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything. But whoever it was, he went inside. There was no more sneaking around. I stayed up almost another hour, but I didn't hear anything."

"Well," Dominic leaned back, scratching his chin. He had shaved that morning, but had missed a few bits here and there. "Karen's got a boyfriend. Or. How do we know it's even a BOYfriend?"

Susan leaned back, her hand on her heart.

"You think....you think....no..."

"I mean, why not? It's the twenty-first century, after all. Anything is possible. And people get so lonely around here."

"That would be....the biggest thing that has ever happened here. If we could find out who it is..."

"Everyone would come to us for details. We could be the king and queen of Shady Acres." Dominic touched his finger to his lips, and stared into the distance. "We need a plan."

-----

"This is a stupid plan," whispered Susan into her phone.

"I know it is, Susan, but it's the best we've got."

She sighed, set the phone to 'speaker' and put it down in her lap. "Who do you think it is?".

"I really don't know. It could be anybody..." he waited a moment. "Maybe it's Betty."

"You really think it's a woman?"

"I hope so! It would be such a delicious scandal."

"You old hound dog. Why Betty?"

"Well, ever since her husband died, the two of them have been spending a lot of time together."

"Of course they have. Betty's lonely. And so's Karen.

"Mmm-hmmm"

"Quit it. And she's only sixty-seven or whatever. I wish my Jim had died when I was still young and bouncy like she is."

"Well, you should have married a millionaire twice your age, like Karen did. Then you could have just inherited everything and had some fun before you got your hips replaced!"

"Shhhh! I hear someone coming." Susan got slowly out of her chair, muted her phone and placed it on the table next to the door. She looked out the peephole.

"False alarm," she said. "It's just Jose from the front desk."

She sat back down in her chair by the door and yawned.

"Dominic?"

"Yes, Karen?"

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Well, my dear. At my age, in a place like this, there's not many fish in the sea, if you catch my drift. Most gentlemen pass on early, and those that remain....Well, they're not exactly the open minded type."

"More like, they're a bunch of conservative old creeps." She yawned again.

"They're not so bad. They're just rich old white men who don't have long to live. A final affair with a...uh....'confirmed bachelor' like me would NOT be an appropriate end to Grandpa's story. Heck, their kids might put them into D house if they found out. And you know what happens in D house."

Susan felt her eyelids closing. She fought to keep them open, but it was after midnight. Maybe if she just rested them for a moment.

"Nothing happens in D house. Nothing happens and nothing keeps on happening and then you die."

-------

When the phone vibrated in her lap, she woke up suddenly. Her head hit the door at the same moment that the phone hit the ground. How long had she been asleep? Had she missed the boyfriend? One hand patted around on the floor looking for the phone, while the other searched for her glasses.

It was 12:56 in the morning. She'd been asleep for almost an hour! She was trying to figure out who had called her when she heard it outside.

The sound of sneaking.

Someone was sneaking down the hallway. But to be honest, they weren't being very sneaky at all.

It took a few seconds, but Susan finally found her glasses. She looked out the peephole while she rubbed the back of her head.

She was too late. She could still hear the boyfriend sneaking badly down the hall, but he - or she - had already passed Susan's door. She couldn't see who it was!

She took a deep breath and turned the doorknob as quietly as she could. She eased the door open, inch by inch, afraid to even breathe. She got her head out the door, then one shoulder, then a leg. She could see into the hall.

The boyfriend was a woman. A bizarre woman. A woman wrapped in so many scarves and shawls that Susan couldn't see anything about her. It definitely wasn't Betty. Betty had far too much style to ever dress like that, even at one AM. No, this person was doing their best to hide their identity. To disguise their face, and even their body. And they were right in front of Karen's door when it opened.

Karen walked into the hallway in her flannel pajamas, her hair in curlers, and stared confused at the "boyfriend," who froze stiff and stared right back at her.

"Uh," stammered the boyfriend. "Hey..baby?"

Susan said, "Dominic?"

Karen screamed.

Dominic ran straight to Susan, pushed past her and entered the apartment. The two of them fell against the wall as he locked the bolt on the door. In the hallway, they could hear other doors opening, sleepy retirees asking each other what the hell was going on at this hour, and Karen screaming that Dominic had lost his mind.

“Well, what in the world do you think you’re doing?” Susan leaned on her chair and stared at him.

“I’m sorry, Susan! I couldn’t resist! It was just too delicious of a scandal. I thought that if I could convince you that Karen Friedlander had a girlfriend, then you’d convince everyone else. And you and I, we’d be the king and queen of the gossip kingdom!

Susan patted him on top of his bald head.

“Oh, Dominic. You sweet, simple man. You’re gonna get your scandal, all right. You’re gonna be the biggest thing that ever happened around here.”

—-

Well so. How about that? Was that the ending you were expecting? Because I have to tell you, that was not the ending I had in mind when I started writing the story. But like I said before, these stories just kind of have a mind of their own. They do what they want. And this one got pretty weird. But I thought it was funny. Did you?

So before we go to the lessons, I have a little announcement. I’ve decided that I’m gonna keep doing shows every two weeks. I would prefer to do them every week, but I think it’s just too much pressure for me to write and record a new story every single week. Two weeks gives me enough time to think of something really original and interesting. So, maybe some day in the future, if I can get a LOT of stories written, I’ll go back to every week. But for now, it’s got to be every two weeks. Thank you for understanding.

Anyway, how about some tiny lessons?

The Big Picture is, well, scandalous!

What was Dominic’s plan? WHat in the world was he thinking? Go back to the story or the transcript and answer it for yourself I’ll wait. He was thinking that if he dressed like a lady, and made sure Susan saw this mysterious lady going to Karen’s room, then Susan would gossip about it. And what amazing gossip that would be! Karen Friedlander has a girlfriend?? And Nobody knows who it is?? Oh my!

Now, be careful you don’t break your hip at the Dictionary Disco!

The first word for today is…peephole. That’s the little circle in the middle of your door that you can look out, to see who’s ringing the bell. It’s a hole that you peep through. A peephole!

And the second word is bachelor. A bachelor is a word for a single man. Easy. But what about “confirmed bachelor?” That’s an old phrase. Something that my parents or even their parents would say. Someone as old as the people in this story. And it means…gay. Right? You’re confirmed single. You’ll never get married to a woman. It was a polite way to say gay, back when gay was not a polite thing to say.

And finally, let’s relax and have a Melody Moment.

More intonation today. Listen to the way I said, “mmm-hmmm.” Here’s the thing. This is not words. It’s ONLY intonation. It’s just like a musical note. But it has a very specific meaning. It means, “I know that they’re lonely. And you know it too. And actually, i know that you can imagine those two becoming a couple, just as easily as I can imagine it. So stop playing games, you know they could be a couple.” Something like that. So that’s forty-two words, compacted into two musical notes. Intonation is POWERFUL.

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode12 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Chiba, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Play Ball"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 10 May 2023 21:45:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 11

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:40 and the tiny lessons begin at 14:00

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Today it’s another sports story. It’s interesting, because I can write these stories about anything I want. And I’m not really a sports guy. But I did play a lot of sports when I was a child, and it seems like a lot of these stories are about being young. But I can tell you this: i love baseball. It’s my favorite sport to watch and to play. Some people think it’s boring, but I just love it. I love the rhythm of it. It relaxes me.

This story, though. Not very relaxing. Why? You’ll have to listen to find out.

The name of this story is Play Ball

“Oh come on,” said Coach Bob. “Ump, you’ve gotta be kidding me. That kid’s like six feet tall!”

Finn and the other players gathered in their dugout and whispered to each other as their coach walked angrily to meet the umpire near home plate. The two grown-ups spoke quietly, but urgently. Coach Bob was waving his hands around as he talked, becoming more and more upset, as the umpire tried to calm him down. Finally they calledthe other coach, who walked slowly over, his hands on his hips.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” one of the boys asked Finn.

“No, but I’ll bet he’s swearing a lot.”

The adults kept arguing for a few minutes. Bob was now pointing at the gigantic player on the other team and shouting at the other coach. Finn could see the sweat stains forming under his armpits as he waved his cap around. Finally, Bob turned and stomped back to his team. His face was purple. He was holding his cap so tightly in one hand that he’d bent the brim.

“Well, boys. I don’t know what to tell you. That kid’s twelve. His parents had to show his birth certificate at the beginning of the season. His name is Lonnegan, and he’s probably gonna end up playing in the Major Leagues.

“But coach,” someone said, “He’s got a mustache!”

“I know he’s got a moustache, Pendleton. I know he’s a monster. But he’s in sixth grade, same as you, and you’re gonna have to play against that monster. Now, do you have anything else you wanna complain about?”

The kids all looked at each other, and then at their feet.

“Oh yeah, and he’s the pitcher. So, good luck. Now bring it in here, and let’s work on a strategy to win this game.”

From the diamond, the boys heard the umpire shout

“Play Ball!"

---

By the fourth inning, the score was already eight to one. Finn leaned heavily on the back wall of the dugout and watched Lonnegan strike out his teammates.

Pendleton was walking back from home plate. Maybe he was crying. It was Finn's turn at bat. Two outs. Nobody on base. All alone against the monster. He stood in the batter's box. He tapped his bat against his shoes, like the pros do on TV. He got into his stance.

Lonnegan shifted his weight back, then forward. Finn didn't even see the ball come in, but he heard it hit the catcher's mitt with a loud leather slap.

"Ball one!" screamed the umpire.

Finn realized that his eyes were closed. He opened them just in time to see Lonnegan throw the next pitch.

Another ball, low this time. Two-and-oh.

Another. Three balls, no strikes. He heard Coach Bob shout, "He's getting tired, Finn! Knock it outta the park!"

More than anything else in the world, Finn wanted to be somewhere else. Everyone was watching him, staring at him. Cheering. Or shouting? He couldn't tell. The sun was in his eyes. His helmet was too loose.

A strike this time. Three-and-one. Coach Bob screaming, "Swing, kid! Swing! It's your time, Finn!"

Another strike. Full count.

All he had to do was wait. Don't swing. Don't step out of the batter's box. Just hold this pose, with the bat up and back. Look ready, and let this enormous kid throw the ball. Whatever happened, it would all be over soon.

-----

Everything was red and yellow and orange. Where was he? Why couldn't he see anything? And what in the world was all that noise?

Finn tried to roll over--- He was lying on the ground!

Why was he lying on the ground? It was so dusty. There was dust in his nose and mouth. Why was he eating dust? He should stand up.

But why was he on the ground?

He rolled onto his side, and the colors exploded. Fireworks and sparklers. Were his eyes closed? Yes, they were.

OK. So. He was on the ground. In the dust. And his eyes were closed. And every time he moved, the colors exploded behind his eyelids.

So, he needed to open his eyes.

There was a pile of people. Small people. Kids. That didn't make any sense. Why would a bunch of kids get into a big pile? And why were they all dressed in the same colors? He looked down, and saw that he was wearing the same colors as some of the kids in the pile. Those were his teammates!

He was playing baseball! They were all playing baseball! But you're not supposed to get in a pile when you play baseball.

Adults were running over to the pile and pulling kids out of it. As soon as the boys were out of the pile, though, they started punching each other. The adults tried to step between them, but there were too many kids and not enough parents.

"Oh my god," thought Finn. "Those kids are really bad at fighting." But, of course, you're not supposed to fight either when you play baseball.

Unless.

Unless it's a bench-clearning brawl. Like on TV.

But that only happens when someone gets hit by a pitch.

Who got hit? It must have been really bad, if everyone on both teams was fighting like this.

A shadow fell over Finn as Coach Bob squatted down next to him. "Kid? Kid, can you hear me?"

"'Course I can hear you," said Finn. "But I've got dust in my mouth." He tried to get up, but Coach Bob held him down.

"Don't move, kid. There's an ambulance coming."

Finn was very confused by that. "It's just some dust, coach. I don't need an ambulance."

-----

The ambulance was going incredibly fast. Finn was strapped to the stretcher, and he couldn’t move his head, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Lonnegan sitting next to him. The monster’s face was all puffy and bruised. He was saying something, but Finn couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the sirens.

He stared at Lonnegan. The monster was crying. He was crying and wiping away his nose with his uniform sleeve.

Finn reached out and patted around until he found the other boy’s hand. It was sticky with tears and probably some blood. He held it tightly until they arrived at the hospital.

Wow, so how was that? A little scary? Do you think that Finn’s gonna be OK? How about Lonnegan? I can tell you that when I started writing that story, I wasn’t expecting it to get so..uh…violent. But the thing is, I don’t actually have a lot of control over these stories. It’s hard to explain, but I just let them write themselves, if that makes any sense. So I was writing the story, and i just knew, oh yeah, Finn’s gonna get hit in the head by a pitch. It HAS to happen that way. And if I think “No, I don’t want Finn to get hurt,” and I change the story, it won’t work any more. It won’t sound right. Does that make sense?

Anyway, kind of a scary one. But I think Finn's gonna be fine. And I hope we will see these guys again soon.

How about some tiny lessons?

First there’s a Big Fight in the Big Picture?

Why do you think that Lonnegan was crying at the end? These days, the Big Picture questions are really more about your opinion, not about finding the specific answer. But I think I put some clues in there. Go back and check. He’s crying because he’s a twelve-year-old boy who nearly killed another little boy by accident, and now he’s scared. He’s not a monster. He’s just a kid.

And the Dictionary Disco? Is it rockin tonight?

The first vocabulary word is….sparkler. I bet you’ve seen a sparkler. They’re those little kind of fireworks that are like a stick you hold in your hand. They don’t shoot off or anything. They just make sparks for a few seconds. So….sparkler!

And the other word is “pile” as in a pile of kids, fighting. A pile is just a bunch of stuff all kind of stacked on top of other stuff. Like in the fall, when you rake up all the fallen leaves, you make a pile. Or if you’re a messy person, you might have piles of laundry all over your house. So it was like a messy hill of kids, all fighting.

Maybe a Melody Moment will relax everyone.

So, the third act of this story has some really interesting intonation stuff. Because there are a lot of different emotions happening. Finn is confused, at first. He just got hit in the head. So there are a lot of questions? Where the intonation goes up. Then he starts to make decisions. Like he needs to open his eyes. And the intonation goes down. Then he has some surprises. And the intonation kind of spikes in the middle. What other emotions can you identify in that section, and what does the intonation sound like?

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode11 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Chiba, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Two Thousand and One"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 26 Apr 2023 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 10

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 02:25 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:02

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

And welcome to my new studio in Chiba, outside Tokyo. Do I sound a little different? I’m recording in a new studio, but with all the same gear. I hope it sounds good!

Tonight’s story is a flashback. We are going all the way back to 2001, in Charleston, South Carolina. Why? Because that’s where I was in 2001. And what was I doing? Pretty much the same thing these people in this story are doing. Going to college. Acting badly. You know. So, like all my stories, none of these events actually happened to ME. But maybe I was there Maybe I was one of the other people at the party, in the backyard of a fraternity house.

You might want to google that before you begin. Try “College of Charleston Fraternity Houses,” on Google Images. It will give you a pretty good idea of where this story takes place. And honestly, the architecture is pretty awesome. Check it out.

The name of this story is…Two Thousand and One.

“Hey,” says Sam. “How you doing tonight?”

The girl looks up at him and pretends to be surprised. Sam sees a thin line of beer on her upper lip as she lowers her red plastic cup long enough to reply,

“Uh, I’m good. Nice party.” She immediately raises the cup back to her lips.

“This is my place,” says Sam. “Or, like, it’s my fraternity’s place….I live here.”

“Cool,” she says. “I’ve been here a few times.”

“I thought I’d seen you before,” says Sam.

Sam knows that they are both lying. She is lying because his fraternity has a party nearly every weekend. And this girl has been at almost every single one. She always arrives early and stays close to the keg. She drinks as fast as she can, and doesn’t talk to anyone. As soon as the beer is gone, so is she. He is lying because he knows all this about her. He has been waiting for the right moment to talk to her since at least Christmas.

On the second floor of the fraternity house, a window slides up. One of his brothers screams like a barbarian and drags a huge pair of speakers out onto the windowsill. Rap beats thunder out. The kids in the back yard cheer and the crowd starts moving to the music.

“What’s your name?” asks Sam.

“I’m Eleanor.”

“Cool,” he says. “You wanna dance with me, Eleanor?”

She looks nervous. “I don’t really know how to dance to this kind of music.”

He reaches out and gently puts his hand on her hip. She lets it rest there. “I don’t really either,” he says. “Let’s give it a try?”

———

Sam sleeps in this room every night, but tonight, when he opens the door with Eleanor behind him, it is like he is seeing it for the first time. How did it get this bad? He cannot see the floor beneath the collection of dirty laundry, beer cans, textbooks, hamburger wrappers and god knows what other kinds of trash.

“Sorry,” he tells her. “I really didn’t think that anyone was gonna come up here tonight.” He frowns at the bed - actually just a naked box spring with a mattress sitting on the floor - and sweeps all the clothes off it. He sits down on the mattress and pats the space next to him.

She stares at him for a moment. She’s going to leave. She’s going to turn right around and walk out the door, and - to be honest - that would be the right thing to do. No girl would ever stay with him in a room this filthy. What was he thinking?

Slowly, cautiously, she steps over the garbage on the floor, and sits beside him on the bed. Sam’s stomach melts, like broken glass and hot lava.

“Uh,” he says. “Uh, do you like U2?”

“The band?”

“Yeah.”

“Not really.”

“Oh, uh me neither,” he lies, again. “But they have this one song that I think is like, super-awesome. Do you know, ‘One?’”

She tells him that she’s not sure, and - before she can stop him - he crawls over to the other side of the bed, reaches down and returns holding an acoustic guitar.

“Wanna hear it?”

She’s smiling at him. He can’t tell what she’s smiling about. Does he look like an idiot? Does she think he’s cool? It’s too late now, anyway. He has to try. He picks out the first chord, and begins to sing.

He is singing this song - which he knows is the most romantic song in the whole world - and she is just staring at him and smiling. It’s this tiny little smile just at the corners of her mouth.

Sam stops the song.

“I’m sorry, I suck at singing. And, like the song is kinda too high for my vocal range anyway. I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

She puts her hand on his arm.

“It’s nice. Keep going.”

And…she kisses him.

————

It’s nearly three am. The party is long over. A couple of his frat brothers have started a little bonfire, and are hanging around it, drinking beer and smoking. Eleanor is the only woman left.

She and Sam are sharing a camping chair, cuddled up together under a blanket. Charleston is still cool at night, this time of year. He speaks quietly into her ear.

“You really didn’t know that song? It was really big like, ten years ago.” He’s can’t see her face, but he can smell her hair and her perfume.

“No. We never listened to pop radio growing up.”

“What did you listen to?”

“Classical music. Or Christian talk radio stuff.” He can feel her body getting tense. He changes the subject.

“Where are you from?”

“Greenville. Or a little bit outside. What about you?” She’s starting to relax again.

“I’m from Rhode Island.”

“Rhode Island? Oh man. If my momma knew I was dating a Yankee, she’d be so upset with me. Like ‘Eleanor, we did not sacrifice and save for you to go to college, just so you could go running around with some boy from Rhode Island.”

Sam can’t stop himself. He says, “So…we’re dating now?”

Her body becomes fully tense. She sits up and turns so that she can look at him. “Oh, I mean, I don’t know. I didn’t really fool around with boys much in high school. It was a really small town, and-“

He kisses her, and asks if she wants to be his girlfriend.

She says that she does.

And they stay there, together in that camping chair, and drink warm beer and stare at the fire until the sun starts to come up over the rooftops.

—----

Hey, so, was that romantic? I wanted to make something romantic. The stories have been kind of dark lately, and I wanted to make something sweet and fun.

Of course, like always, this story is deeply connected to the other stories. How and why, I’ll let you figure out. But there is a reason we had to go back to 2001 to tell this story. Why it couldn’t happen today in 2023. That’s all the hints I’m gonna give you.

By the way, we are now one quarter of the way through the big story. How is it going? Are any of the relationships between the characters starting to become clear? If not, just keep listening. I really hope it will all make sense once it’s finished.

Oh, and I think we are gonna have at least one more skip week, because it’s a holiday next week and I’ll be traveling BACK to Hiroshima to finish clearing out my old house. So the next episode will be May 10th. Thank you for being patient.

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

The Big Picture is…romantic…

Why does Eleanor kiss Sam? Even in his disgusting bedroom? I don’t just come out and say it in the story, but it’s pretty clear to me. What do you think? Take a minute and think about it. … I think she is really young. They both are. And she’s finally gotten out of her small town, and she’s trying to have some crazy adventures. And he’s kinda sweet. Singing old pop songs to her.

Do you think they play rap music at the Dictionary Disco?

Our first vocabulary word is…Keg. A Keg is the big metal thing that they serve beer from. It’s supposed to be for bars, but when I was in college, they would have a keg party. Where there’s a keg (or three) in the back of the house, and everyone gets a cup to fill up.

The second vocabulary word is….fraternity. It comes from Latin and means “brotherhood.” But in this case, a fraternity, or “frat” is an organization at universities for boys to join. They call each other their “brothers.” I was never in one, but they did have the biggest parties.

Finally, let’s listen to the Melody Moment.

Go back to the paragraph where I’m talking about how they are both lying. Notice the difference between how I say She the first time, and how i say it the second time. “She is lying,” that SHE is really strong and high. After that, it’s way down low. “She always arrives early.” I do the same thing with “He is lying.” Why? Because I said both of them are lying. So I’m separating that paragraph into two parts: First about her lies, then about his. See, I just did it again. Intonation in this case is used as a kind of road sign, to tell you the structure of the sentence or paragraph.

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 10 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Chiba, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Toxic"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 12 Apr 2023 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 9

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:43 and the tiny lessons begin at 13:51

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Hey so, welcome back everyone. Sorry about the delay, but as you know, I’m in the middle of moving across the country and starting my dream job. So at least for the rest of April, you can expect a story every two weeks, not every week. I’d like to write more, but there’s just no time.

Also, this is the last story I will record in my studio in Hiroshima. Next weekend, everything will go in a moving van to Chiba, and I will start building my new studio. Very exciting. But also quite sad. I’ve been in this room for four or five years now, and I love it here.

Oh well, on to the story

The name of this story is, “Toxic”

“Okay, so, everyone, this is Paul. He’s going to be working part-time for us, mostly on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Can you introduce yourself to everyone? Tell us a little bit about yourself?”

Paul shifted his weight from foot to foot and coughed a little. He was not prepared for this.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Paul. I’m from Wellesley originally, and actually I grew up going to this shop. I just finished college in California, and now I’m back East. So, uh, I don’t know. I have a boyfriend who lives in the city? My favorite author is…Octavia Butler? I dunno. I’m really excited to be here.”

The staff gave a polite clap and welcomed him. He learned six or seven names and forgot them almost immediately. Finally the manager pointed to a young woman and said, “This is Amber. She’s gonna show you around.”

Amber nodded at Paul. “Come on then. Let’s get going.”

She led him around the store. “This is the kids’ section. Dr. Seuss, whatever. Just keep everything organized, maybe you’ll have to clean up some puke sometimes. Here’s fiction, non-fiction, science-fiction. You said you’ve been here before?”

“Yeah,” replied Paul. “I used to come here when I was a kid.”

“So did I,” said Amber. “I used to come with my mom. It hasn’t really changed that much. It even smells the same.” It smelled like paper and coffee. Like every bookstore smells.

Amber showed him around the different sections, and introduced him to the computer system. Then she said, “Let’s go down to the basement.”

She led him through a door marked “Staff” and down some stairs. There, surrounded by stacks of cardboard boxes full of books, she stopped him.

“Listen…Paul?”

“Yeah, Paul.”

“You have to be a little more careful in this place.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You can’t just tell everyone everything about yourself. They’ll use it against you. You have to be a little more secret at first. This whole place is a gossip nightmare. They’re gonna figure out who your boyfriend is. They’re gonna find out everything about you.”

“I mean, who’s ‘they?’”

“Just don’t give them any more personal information. Trust me. Now, here is where we keep stuff that we haven’t put on the shelves yet. So if I ask you to go get some book, it’ll be down here somewhere.”

————————

Two days later, Paul arrived at the bookstore early. The doors were still locked so he stood outside and leaned on the glass. The sun was hidden behind layers of gray spring clouds. A man approached, walking fast and smoking.

“Hey, dude. You’re Paul, right?”

“Yeah. Ben? I think we met on Tuesday.”

“Yeah, nice to see you.” They shook hands. Ben unlocked the door and they entered. They spent some time checking inventory and restocking the shelves.

“So where are you from, Paul?”

“Uh, from Wellesley.”

“Oh, so you’re a rich kid?”

“I mean, not like so much. Not compared to the other kids in school, maybe.”

“It’s ok, I don’t really care. I’m from Dover. We’re all rich kids here.”

“Oh, uh, ok.” Paul felt the sweat on his forehead.

“Oh, no. She got to you, didn’t she?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Amber. She told you that we’re all a bunch of gossips and you shouldn’t tell us anything. She said that, right?”

Paul said nothing.

“Listen, Paul. That girl is totally, completely crazy. She hates men. Hates them. She thinks all men are trying to destroy her. Don’t worry about anything she says. We have a good bunch of people working here. Except her. Now help me with these boxes.”

Paul said nothing, but he nodded and got to work.

—————————

“What did he say about me?”

They were in the staff room. Paul was just finishing his coffee when Amber approached him. He just stared at her.

“What did Ben say? Did he say that I hate men?”

Paul just stared at her.

“Did he say I’m a lesbian?”

“Uh. No.”

“You cannot trust Ben. He’s like one of those fake feminists. You know those guys who like to talk about how much they care about women’s rights? And how they love female politicians and whatever? But he’s lying. He just uses that stuff to get girls. It’s all a lie. He hates women.”

Paul just stared at her.

—————————

The next day, Paul walked out of the cafe across the street from the bookstore. It was still cold and windy, but the rain had stopped. Ben was standing in the middle of the street, holding his phone away from his face and screaming at it. Paul couldn’t understand anything Ben was saying, but he could see little bits of spit flying out of his mouth.

It was 2:54.

He had to be back at work in six minutes.

Ben was standing between him and the door.

Inside the shop, Paul could see Amber, staring out through the window.

She was with another girl, whose name Paul couldn’t remember. They were whispering, and pointing at Ben. Amber locked eyes with Paul through the glass. She pointed at Ben with one hand, and made a face that said, “I told you. Crazy.”

Paul stood there, hands in his coat pocket, shivering against the cold, for a full minute looking back and forth from Ben to Amber.

He thought back to his childhood, when he would beg his father every weekend to make the thirty-minute drive into Cambridge, to this bookstore. He remembered whole afternoons spent in the science fiction section, reading quietly. Safe, silent, and warm.

He looked at Ben, he looked at Amber.

He sighed, turned his coat collar up against the wind, and started walking. He kept going until he reached the T station, where a train stood, doors open, waiting for him. Paul swiped his card, got on the train and reached for his headphones.

OK, so I think you can guess why this story is called Toxic. It’s about a toxic workplace environment. Now I want to be very clear. The new job that I just started is definitely NOT a toxic workplace. It’s absolutely amazing. But I have worked in some toxic workplaces before. Have you? It really kind of kills your soul to work in those places, right? So I guess in a way, this story is kind of a fantasy for me. To just walk away from a workplace like that. It’s a dream. But most of us, we have to go back to work. We have to keep doing it. Oh well.

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

Everyone is talking about the big picture. Everyone.

So the question is, what makes this workplace toxic? There are a lot of potential answers, so go back and read or listen and think about it. I think the answer is just, the employees. The books and the shelves didn’t do anything wrong. But the people who work there….ooof.

How about a dance at the dictionary disco?

I’ve got two good vocab words for you today. The first one is..inventory. When your company sells stuff, they keep a bunch of it in the shop or somewhere, so they don’t run out. That’s your inventory.

The second word is actually a phrase. It’s “locked eyes” as in Amber locked eyes with Paul. You’ve definitely done this. It’s when you make eye contact with someone, but then don’t let it go. Like you are locked together.

And the Melody Moment? Is it lovely?

Let’s talk more about intonation. I like the way Paul introduces himself in this story. Even though he is making clear statements, like his own name or his favorite author, they all sound like questions. “My name is…Paul?” That’s rising intonation.

So what is he doing? He’s showing that he is nervous and uncomfortable. Probably he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. But he is telling everyone that he does not want to do this, at all.

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 9 of A Little English.

Until now, every episode was produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. But not any more.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Great Blue Heron"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 29 Mar 2023 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 8

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:50 and the tiny lessons begin at 11:22

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

This story is really important to me, because this is the first story I ever wrote for this project. I actually started writing it in December 2021, and I was saving it for a special time. This is that time. I’m in the middle of moving and starting my dream job, and my life is totally crazy, so I thought now is a good time to share the story that started the whole project. I hope you enjoy!

One thing, you might want to pause before we start and look at a picture of a Great Blue Heron, if you don’t know what that is. They’re pretty beautiful birds, and it will probably help you understand the story a little better if you have a picture of one in your head.

Great Blue Heron

Sarah sat by the river and wondered how to get more likes. Maybe she could take a selfie at sunset? Everyone likes sunset photos. She took her phone out of her bag and held it in front of her. She moved around on the park bench until she found a nice angle, and posed for the selfie.

It was a good photo. The river was flowing off towards the sun as it set behind her. The sky was red and pink, and the few fluffy clouds made it even prettier. She flipped through the filters for a while, trying to find the best one, but it just didn’t look right. She breathed out heavily, deleted it, and started to pose again.

The sun was almost behind the mountains by the time she got a photo that she really liked. She chose a good filter, and thought about which hashtags would get the most attention. #sunset #naturelife #river

Behind her, an enormous heron landed in the river without a splash or a sound. It looked around cautiously, standing on one leg in the rushing water, searching for a fish for dinner.

Sarah knew what she had to do. She had to get a selfie with the heron. She tried to take one from the bench, but it was much too far away. The bird looked like a little gray bug in the background, blurry and out of focus. She would have to get closer. She got off the bench and crawled sideways like a crab down the steep hill until she reached the bank of the river. She crept through the tall grass, trying to get as close as she could.

The heron stood perfectly still, staring down into the rushing water, pretending to ignore Sarah. As soon as Sarah put one of her feet into the freezing cold water, balancing on the slippery rocks, the heron raised its head and stared directly at her.

Sarah froze. The heron froze. They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither one moving. Sarah was holding her dress out of the water with one hand. With the other she reached into her bag, trying to look like she wasn’t moving at all. The heron stared right at her. It put its other foot down into the water, getting ready to fly away.

It was impossibly beautiful, blue and gray, with a white head and neck. A black streak like a halloween mask stretched from its eyes to a little cap of feathers on the back of its head. Its wings were just barely open, its long legs bent at the knee as it stared at Sarah, trying to decide whether or not she was a threat.

Her hand came out of the bag now, holding her phone. She unlocked it with her finger and raised it above her head, twisting around to get herself, the heron, the river, and the setting sun into the photo. This one would get hundreds of likes. #sunset, #river, #naturelife.

Her movement startled the heron and it bent its knees a bit more, worrying that she was going to attack it. Sarah stopped moving, her body stuck in a very uncomfortable position. She didn’t even breathe. The heron didn’t either. They stayed there, frozen, the heron staring at Sarah and Sarah staring at her phone’s screen.

The setting sun reflected off the glass and she couldn’t tell if the shot was any good at all. She knew that she only had one chance, that the sound of the phone taking the photo would scare the bird away. She was starting to lose the feeling in her feet, and her legs and backhurt from crouching and twisting for so long.

Three things happened then, all at the same time. A little fish, searching for his own dinner, jumped out of the rushing water. Sarah, startled by the sound of the jumping fish, slipped on a rock. The heron, afraid that Sarah had finally decided to attack her, spread its enormous wings and took off into the sky.

Sarah reached her left arm behind her, trying to stay out of the water. Both of her feet slipped on the slimy rocks, one sandal flew straight up into the air, and her whole body collapsed into the river. Except, of course, for her right hand, which held her phone straight up, keeping it safe and dry while the rest of her got soaked. The shock of the icy water stole the breath from her body.

After she had crawled out of the river and collapsed, shivering, on the shore for a few moments, Sarah checked her phone. On the screen was a six-second-long video. It was perfect. The heron, the setting sun, the rushing river and her smiling face were all in the frame. She pushed “play.” She watched her eyes go wide as she slipped. She listened to her tiny scream get lost in a loud splash as she fell into the river. She watched the heron avoid her flying sandal as it flew away. The bird didn’t seem scared, or rushed, or even annoyed. It just flew off into the pink sunset, searching for a safer spot to go fishing.

Sarah shared the video to her page. #naturelife #river #heron. Then she stood up and walked back to her parents’ house, soaking wet, freezing cold, one sandal lost forever, and smiling.

—------------------

So, that’s Sarah. We’ve actually met her before, but she didn’t get a name in that story. I’m not gonna tell you which story it was, though. You’ll have to search around yourself. But don’t worry, I have a lot of stuff to say about Sarah and her family and friends. We’ll see her again.

And just a reminder, the next episode will come out in two weeks, because my studio and I are not living in the same part of Japan right now. Thanks for understanding.

Now, let’s do some tiny lessons.

The Big Picture is…a selfie?

Why is it so important for Sarah to get a picture with the Heron? If you’re not sure, pause now and go back and listen or read the transcript. It’s because Sarah is totally obsessed with social media. Probably Instagram. She literally thinks in hashtags!

Do you think we can get into the Dictionary Disco with only one shoe on?

The first vocabulary word is - Collapse - It’s just a fancy way to say “fall down.” You can use it for a building, like in an earthquake, or a person who is sick or hurt. Or who just fell in a river in March.

The second word this week is - shiver - that’s when your body shakes, but you have no control over it. Like when you’re extremely cold, or frightened, or, um, excited. There’s a pretty awesome Ed Sheerhan song about that last one that uses it as a noun. He’s got….the shivers.

And finally, let’s slow down for a melody moment.

I’d like to talk for a while about intonation. Intonation is actually not that important in English. I know. Don’t get angry. But, for example, in Japanese, intonation affects the meaning of a word. So HAshi in Japanese is chopsticks. But haSHI is a bridge. Intonation affects meaning. But in English, we use intonation for emotion. You I could say the same phrase with two different intonations and it would show that I have different feelings each time. So like “hashtag naturelife” is showing how much I love nature and sharing it on insta! But “hashtag naturelife” is showing that I hate social media and think it’s kind of stupid. Going up is usually more positive and going down is usually more negative. I’ll talk more about intonation soon.

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 8 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. At least for now.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

See you soon!

Edward Cooper Howland — Sun, 26 Mar 2023 10:45:00 +0900

Hi, this is Cooper.

I'm moving across the country, so I'll be releasing a story every TWO weeks for the next month or so, until my studio is set back up in my new place outside Tokyo!

The next story will be released on WEDNESDAY, March 29th

Sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding.

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Forty Stories - "Sentimental Items"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 15 Mar 2023 22:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 7

Cooper is back from the attack of the hideous POLLEN ALLERGY! Thank you to Tabatha for filling in!

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 02:01 and the tiny lessons begin at 14:30

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

First of all, I’m very sorry about last week. This year is the worst pollen allergy in ten years in Japan, and I had it really, really badly. Believe me, you did NOT want to hear my voice in your headphones last week. But today I’m doing a lot better and I have a new story for you. It’s about…well, do you know who Marie Kondo is? She’s a Japanese cleaning and organizing expert who’s super famous in the US, but not at all famous in Japan. Kinda funny how that works. Anyway, I love her method, but I also recognize that there are some issues with it. So, I decided to write a story about it. I hope you enjoy.

Sentimental Items

“No,” said Jean. “We throw everything away. Everything that doesn’t make us happy. That’s what the book says, and that’s what we’re gonna do. And when we get done with it, we’ll just be surrounded by things that make us happy, and then we can be happy all the time.”

Her children looked at each other, sighed, and walked to their rooms. Jean called after them. “Think about it, do we really need your third grade report cards, Kevin?”

She put her hands on her hips and looked around. It was time to clean out the attic.

She pulled box after box after box out into the hall, opened the lids, and started dumping their contents onto the ground.

“Don’t forget to throw away by category,” she yelled down the steps. “Start with clothes, then books, then papers.” Following her own advice, she collected every single piece of clothing into a pile. Then she stood over it.

Most of it was easy.

Winter coats from elementary school? Send them to Good Will.

Tiny mittens, their fuzzy lining stolen long ago by mice? Garbage.

Her maternity dresses? Horrible garbage.

A photo album.

“Mandy,” she called, “Come look at this.”

Amanda appeared in the doorway. “Mom, I’m right in the middle of doing my clothes. What do you need?”

“Look at this album. It’s from Pawtucket back in the eighties. Here’s me and your Aunt Dottie on the pier. We must be….eight years old. Here’s your grandpa Frank cooking lobsters. Every year he would go down to Marten’s seafood and buy a dozen of the biggest lobsters you’ve ever seen. ”

“Mom, the book to save sentimental items for last. Don’t get distracted by that stuff. Just put it in a pile and deal with it later.”

“You’re right, we gotta follow the system. We can look at all these later.” Jean put the album aside, reached into the pile, and pulled out a pair of low-rise boot-cut jeans from her college days.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Why in the world did we think that this was a good look?”

——

By the end of the month, only sentimental items were left. The three of them stood in front of a table in the dining room, looking down. Postcards, gifts, drawings from elementary school art class, all piled on top of each other, all incredibly important for one reason or another.

“I don’t even know where to start,” said Kevin. “I don’t want to throw away any of it. Can’t we just, like, keep it all?”

“The book says we don’t think about what we are throwing away, we think about what we want to keep,” said Jean. “So, what’s important to you to keep?”

“Frosty,” replied Kevin. “I wanna keep Frosty’s ashes in my room.”

“….where is Frosty?” said Mandy.

They searched the pile, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

“It’s a little stone box,” said Kevin. “It looks like something precious.”

“We know what it looks like,” said Jean. “It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

Old birthday cards and finger paintings fell to the ground as Kevin searched the table.

“Why would you throw him away? You threw away my cat’s ashes!”

“No, honey I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. We’re just gonna keep searching and we’ll find him.”

“No, we searched already! And everything else in the house is cleaned, just like in your stupid book! Are you happy? Everything is organized, the cat’s ashes are gone, and we’re supposed to be happy. But I’m not feeling real happy right now, Mom!” He stormed out of the house, slamming the door on his way out.

Jean felt her knees go weak. She leaned on the table as Mandy grabbed a chair for

her to sit in. She sat down heavily. She wasn’t breathing correctly. Too short and fast. Close to another attack.

Slowly. In through the nose for four seconds. Hold for four seconds. Out through the nose for four seconds. Hold for four seconds.

Box breathing.

Just like the quarterback for the Patriots.

When she opened her eyes, Mandy was in front of her, the photo album in her hands.

“We’ll find Frosty.” She was smiling a little. “Tell me about these photos.”

---

Jean was waiting for Kevin when he came home after eleven pm. She heard him open the kitchen door quietly and slowly, just a few inches at a time. He was sneaking past the dining room door when she said, “Kevin?” She heard him swear quietly.

“Did you find him?”

“No, we didn’t. I’m sorry, Kevin. Your sister and I searched every box and bag of trash and bookcase in the house, and we didn’t find Frosty’s ashes.”

Kevin swore again, and Jean didn’t say anything. Instead, she handed him a slender book with a photo of a cat glued to its front.

“Your sister and I worked all evening on this. She went through all the photo albums in the house and looked for pictures of him. ”

She watched him sit in a chair and open the book. He smiled. He turned the book around to show her a picture of himself, six years old, holding up his new kitten like the beginning of the Lion King. He went through all the pages, occasionally stopping at a picture of Frosty wearing a little hat for Halloween, or elderly Frosty napping in the sun.

“He was a good cat,” said Kevin.

“Yes, he was,” answered Jean. “And I’m sorry that I lost his ashes. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard to throw everything away. I just want to live in a nice house, and the book says that if we get rid of everything that doesn’t make us happy, then we’ll be happy all the time. Don’t you want to be happy all the time?”

Whooooo that was kind of emotional for me. How are you doing?

Like I said, I love Marie Kondo, and I really want to live in a clean house. And I really want to be happy. Who doesn’t? But like, I think that it’s really important to be careful when you are throwing stuff away. And we already know that Jean, she’s not exactly a stable person. So, like a lot of things, cleaning and organizing is good, but if you go too far, or do it for the wrong reasons, you can get into trouble.

I’m doing a lot of throwing away garbage now, because, well, I’m moving.

Yup. I’m moving to Chiba, which is basically a suburb of Tokyo. I got a new job, and I gotta go. So, it’s possible that I may miss an episode or two in the next couple weeks. I’m gonna try my best not to, but….my whole studio has to get broken down and moved across the country. So, we shall see.

Let’s do some tiny lessons

Our big picture is kinda sad.

What happened to Frosty? Well, he got old and died, like pets do. And he was cremated, which means, to burn a dead body. But then, some time, somebody lost the box with his ashes. It’s not clear who, and I think that’s most realistic. You never know HOW something gets lost. You just know that it’s lost.

How about the dictionary disco?

The first one is - garbage. Garbage is trash. Stuff that you throw away. Stuff that you don’t want any more. Like your maternity dresses, when your kids are already in their teens and twenties!

The second one is - sentimental. Sentimental means related to your emotions or your memories. So sentimental items might be old love letters, or photos of your dead cat.

And a good old melody moment.

In this story, at different points I say “gonna,” “gotta,” “kinda,” and “wanna.” We talked about these kinds of words a while ago, but I am very happy to repeat myself, since these are super common. These are contractions, kind of smashing words together. So “going to” becomes “gonna.” “Got to” is “gotta,” “Kind of” is “kinda” and “want to” is “wanna.” Right, so all these words, the smaller word gets smashed into the bigger one, and then reduced. TO? No, “tuh.” OF? Nope. “uh” These are schwas, and we do it because it’s easier! Go back to season one if you want to hear ALL about schwas!

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 7 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan. For now, anyway.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Cooper's Sick! So Tabatha reads The Tale of Peter Rabbit, by Beatrix Potter

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 08 Mar 2023 21:00:00 +0900

This is a special episode because Cooper's spring allergy arrived and he couldn't talk. So Tabatha read a very famous children's story for us: The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter

Check out the illustrations HERE.

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 00:40 and there are no tiny lessons this week! Sorry, Cooper is in bed!

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi, my name is Tabatha, and this is A Little English.

Since my dad Cooper isn’t feeling well, I’m going to read you a story.

The name of this story is The Tale of Peter Rabbit, by Beatrix Potter

The illustrations for this story are beautiful and we have included a link in the show notes if you want to see them.

Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names

were--

Flopsy,

Mopsy,

Cotton-tail,

and Peter.

They lived with their Mother in a sand-bank, underneath the root of a very big fir-tree.

'Now my dears,' said old Mrs. Rabbit one morning, 'you may go into the fields or down the lane, but don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden: your Father had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor.'

'Now run along, and don't get into mischief. I am going out.'

Then old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella, and went through the wood to the baker's. She bought a loaf of brown bread and five currant buns.

Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail, who were good little bunnies, went

down the lane to gather blackberries:

But Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor's garden, and squeezed under the gate!

First he ate some lettuces and some French beans; and then he ate some radishes;

And then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for some parsley.

But round the end of a cucumber frame, whom should he meet but Mr. McGregor!

Mr. McGregor was on his hands and knees planting out young cabbages, but he jumped up and ran after Peter, waving a rake and calling out, 'Stop thief!'

Peter was most dreadfully frightened; he rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate.

He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe

amongst the potatoes.

After losing them, he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I

think he might have got away altogether if he had not unfortunately run into a gooseberry net, and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. It was a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new.

Peter gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears; but his sobs were overheard by some friendly sparrows, who flew to him in great excitement, and implored him to exert himself.

Mr. McGregor came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the top of Peter; but Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behind him.

And rushed into the tool-shed, and jumped into a can. It would have been a beautiful thing to hide in, if it had not had so much water in it.

Mr. McGregor was quite sure that Peter was somewhere in the

tool-shed, perhaps hidden underneath a flower-pot. He began to turn them over carefully, looking under each.

Presently Peter sneezed--'Kertyschoo!' Mr. McGregor was after him in no time.

And tried to put his foot upon Peter, who jumped out of a window,

upsetting three plants. The window was too small for Mr. McGregor, and he was tired of running after Peter. He went back to his work.

Peter sat down to rest; he was out of breath and trembling with

fright, and he had not the least idea which way to go. Also he was

very damp with sitting in that can.

After a time he began to wander about, going lippity--lippity--not

very fast, and looking all round.

He found a door in a wall; but it was locked, and there was no room for a fat little rabbit to squeeze underneath.

An old mouse was running in and out over the stone doorstep, carrying peas and beans to her family in the wood. Peter asked her the way to the gate, but she had such a large pea in her mouth that she could not answer. She only shook her head at him. Peter began to cry.

Then he tried to find his way straight across the garden, but he

became more and more puzzled. Presently, he came to a pond where Mr. McGregor filled his water-cans. A white cat was staring at some gold-fish, she sat very, very still, but now and then the tip of her tail twitched as if it were alive. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking to her; he had heard about cats from his cousin, little Benjamin Bunny.

He went back towards the tool-shed, but suddenly, quite close to him, he heard the noise of a hoe--scr-r-ritch, scratch, scratch, scritch.

Peter scuttered underneath the bushes. But presently, as nothing

happened, he came out, and climbed upon a wheelbarrow and peeped over.

The first thing he saw was Mr. McGregor hoeing onions. His back was turned towards Peter, and beyond him was the gate!

Peter got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow; and started running as fast as he could go, along a straight walk behind some

black-currant bushes.

Mr. McGregor caught sight of him at the corner, but Peter did not

care. He slipped underneath the gate, and was safe at last in the wood outside the garden.

Mr. McGregor hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scare-crow to frighten the blackbirds.

Peter never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to the big fir-tree.

He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on the floor of the rabbit-hole and shut his eyes. His mother was busy cooking; she wondered what he had done with his clothes. It was the second little jacket and pair of shoes that Peter had lost in a fortnight!

I am sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening.

His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave a dose of it to Peter!

'One table-spoonful to be taken at bed-time.'

But Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail had bread and milk and

blackberries for supper.

THE END

Forty Stories - "Flow"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 01 Mar 2023 22:15:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 6

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:58 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:32

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Today’s story is about ping pong. I’m not very good at ping pong, but Tabatha is. We played together a couple weeks ago, and of course, I thought, “This would be a good story.” So, here we are.

The name of the story comes from psychology. Have you ever been doing something you really like and suddenly you realize that, like, an hour or two has passed? And you didn’t even realize it? That’s called a flow state. It’s also called, being “in the zone.” Usually when I’m working on a story or even editing this podcast, I’ll enter a flow state. And I love it. It’s an amazing feeling. What gets you into a flow state? And what does that have to do with ping pong? I guess we’ll find out.

Flow

The ball came in fast and low, just over the net. It bounced on the back right corner of table number four and flew off into a corner of the gym. Alexander watched it go.

“Hey, I thought you said you would go easy on me,” he whined.

“I am going easy on you,” replied Matt. “Your serve.”

Alexander walked slowly over to where the ball had stopped rolling. He picked it up and stared at it. He sighed and walked back to the table where Matt stood ready, holding the paddle in both hands straight out.

Alexander bounced the ball once and hit it straight into the net.

“Zero-two,” shouted Matt.

“I don’t get a double fault thing? Like in tennis?”

“No, bro. This is TABLE tennis. Different game. Your serve.”

Alexander served again. This time, the ball floated weakly over the net. Matt returned it to Alexander's left side. Alexander reached for a backhand, but missed. The ball skipped away through the open doors and into the hall.

“Zero-three, your serve.” Matt was smiling.

Alexander retrieved the ball from the hallway. He tried to focus on Matt’s left side. He thought about the best angle for the paddle. He planned the whole point in his mind. Curve the paddle down a little bit at the end. Keep the ball low, just above the net. Go to Matt’s backhand. He had a plan.

He breathed deeply, bounced, and served.

The ball went into the net. “Zero-four!”

He made another plan. A soft hit, just hard enough to go over the net. He could make Matt reach for it. Make him mess up. Make him serve for once. He bounced and served, slowly, carefully.

Matt leaned in and returned it easily, with a smash. The ball went back into the hallway.

“Zero-five. You want me to serve?” Matt was laughing at him. Alexander walked off to retrieve the ball, his head hanging low.

—

The girl must have been in high school. She was blonde, and she was taller than him. And she was holding his ping-pong ball in her hand, smiling.

“Did you lose this?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Uh.” Alexander reached out and grabbed the ball. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She was probably seventeen years old, and she was smiling at him. He nodded at her, never making eye contact, and walked back to his table.

Alexander prepared to serve again, at the same time looking around the gymnasium for the girl. Was she playing volleyball? No. Was she watching from the stands? No. Where was she?

“Hey, nice point!” said Matt. “Five-one. My serve.”

He didn’t realize that he had been playing, but there it was. Matt was kneeling down under the table to get the ball. He’d gotten a point!

Matt’s next serve came in just as Alexander found the girl. She was with another high school girl. She was playing ping-pong. She was at table number six. Just two tables away. How long had she been there? Had she seen him losing point after point? Alexander felt himself blushing as he returned the serve.

“Five-three! OK! Now we’re talking!”

Five…three? Alexander realized that he had won the last TWO points without paying attention. He was back in the game. He had a chance to win! What if the girl was watching now? He had to focus. He had to win. Don’t look at the girl, don’t look at anything, just make a plan and win.

He lost the next three points in a row.

“Eight-three! Oh, yeah. You’re going down, bro.”

The ball came in fast and low over the net, and bounced. It was too far away. Alexander stretched out to hit it and the paddle flew out of his hand. It landed right on table five with a loud BANG. The guys at table five stopped playing.

So did the high school girls.

Alexander froze. There was no way to play this off like a cool, normal dude. He had just thrown his stupid paddle and disrupted everyone’s game, and everyone knew it was him. Now he had to go get it, and he wanted to die.

He walked over to table five, staring at the floor. “Uh, I’m sorry, man,” he mumbled, as the guy handed him back his paddle. “I guess it just, like, slipped out of my hand.”

The guy didn’t say anything, and Alexander turned back to his table. Matt was laughing and pointing at him.

The tears came up behind his eyes. He felt them fall onto his cheeks, hot and wet and he ran. He ran into the hallway searching for a bathroom, but he couldn’t find one, so he just kept running until he came to some kind of bench. He sat and cried, his shoulders shaking, his face in his hands until he felt someone touch his arm.

It was the high school girl. She looked worried.

“Are you OK, kid?”

Alexander tried to puff out his chest a little. Like he wasn’t just crying in the gray, concrete hallway of a YCMA.

“Me? Oh, yeah. I’m, like, pretty OK. Thanks.” He wiped snot and tears from his face with the back of his arm.

“Your friend is kind of a jerk.”

“He’s not my friend, he’s my cousin. I don’t want to hang out with him, but my mom makes me.”

“Well, I think you need to go and win this game. Teach him a lesson.”

“How? The only time I even get a point is when I’m not paying attention.”

“That,” said the high school girl, “is because you’re thinking too much. The ball is too fast. By the time you think about what you’re gonna do, and then get your body to do it, the ball is gone. You have to clear your mind and just….flow. No plans, just movement. Reaction. I don’t really know how else to explain it. Just….flow. It’s the only way to win at ping pong.”

Alexander stood up, rubbing his eyes with his shirt sleeve.

“What’s your name?”

“Amanda. People call me Mandy.”

“I’m Alexander. Uh, thank you.”

“Go kick his butt.”

So there you go. That’s my ping-pong story. Now I want to be very clear. This story is not what happened when I played with my kid. First of all, Tabatha is the real ping-pong monster. She absolutely destroyed me when we played. But there were a few moments when I got into a flow state. When I didn’t think about what I was doing, and I was able to just…flow. Just play. And at least I scored some points.

But there were these two boys next to us. They were maybe thirteen or fourteen years old. And they were so, so nerdy. They reminded me of myself when I was in middle school. And I wanted to write a story about them. About what it’s like to be a nerdy teenage boy. Especially when girls are around. So…how did I do?

Anyway, wanna do some tiny lessons?

The Big Picture is looking lovely.

What was Alexander’s big mistake when he was playing? Why couldn’t he win? Take a moment and think about it. Like Mandy said, he was over-thinking. When you play sports, you can’t think. You can’t plan. You just have to do it. That’s the flow state. When your brain shuts off, and you just act.

How about the Dictionary Disco?

The first vocabulary word is “Blushing.” Everybody blushes. It’s when you get embarrassed or emotional, and your face turns red. But really really white people like me? We REALLY blush.

The second vocabulary word is “paddle.” That’s the thing you hold in your hand when you play ping pong. But also, it’s any kind of thing that’s shaped like that. A thin handle on one end, and a wide flat surface on the other. Like when you go in a canoe. You use a paddle.

So, can we have a Melody Moment?

We’re gonna do another pair of sounds today. K and G are pretty close to T and D. So for T, you tap your tongue on the roof of your mouth. The alveolar ridge, right? For K, you keep your tongue up at the top, but….you don’t tap it. And it’s further back. Lips open, jaw relaxed. And tongue just kinda….up. Try it! K….K….K. Now, add some vibration in your throat and you get….G. They’re a pair.

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 8 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

SPECIAL GUEST HOST - Tabatha interviews Cooper!

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 22 Feb 2023 22:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season (Not in a season) Episode (No episode number)

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉This is a special one! Tabby wanted to interview Cooper. So that's what happens. It's pretty silly, but if you want a look behind the scenes, you can find out a lot about the two of us!

👉There's no transcript this time! Come back next week for another story! Thank you!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Forty Stories - "Frog Pond"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 15 Feb 2023 22:30:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 5

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 1:40 and the tiny lessons begin at 12:56

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

And we are back into Forty Stories! So, this story was written by me. I have to apologize, I have tried to do two different accents. Now to be fair, I’m from Massachusetts, and I spent six years living in South Carolina, so I think I’m probably OK at doing accents from those places. But I guess I’ll let you decide. If it’s hard to understand people talking, go check out the show notes! Read along with the text as I’m speaking. It’s good practice for weird American pronunciation. Let’s check it out!

Frog Pond

It was not a good day to be outside. Kim shivered in her overcoat. Her cheeks hurt, even inside the mask. Boston Common in February was not beautiful. It was gray, and the parking in the garage was twelve dollars an hour!

Cassie was excited, though. She pulled Kim’s hand as they approached the Frog Pond. “Look, Mom! They’re skating!”

There were maybe fifteen people on the ice. They were trying to go in circles, but the wind pushed them back, crashing them into the railing and each other. Kim and Cassie fought their way to the ticket counter.

“That’ll be thirty-two dollars, ma’am.” The woman in the booth shrunk down into her enormous parka as Kim stared at her.

“Thirty-two?” Kim couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s eight dollars for you, free for your daughter. Plus skate rental is fifteen for adults and ten for kids.”

Kim sighed, and pulled another twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet.

“You shouldn’t be out here in this weather,” said Kim.

“I haven’t got much else to do,” said the lady. “and I’m used to it. Some days are awfully pretty, especially after a good snow.”

Kim looked around. “Pretty like today?”

“Oh, no,” said the woman. “But tomorrow should be nice. Is this your first time in Boston?”

“No,” said Kim. “Well, sort of. It’s our first time in the Common. We’re renting a place in Cambridge. But Cassie just HAD to go skating before the season ended.”

“Is it her first time skating?” asked the woman.

“It’s both of our first times. We’re from South Carolina, originally. My husband got a job, and we just…moved up here. Just like that.”

“Well, you might want to try a lesson.” The woman pointed to a poster on the wall.

“We can’t afford that much,” Kim turned to take Cassie’s hand, but she wasn’t there.

“Cassie? Cassie? Cassandra?” She was trying to sound calm. She clapped her hands, but the gloves muffled the sound, and the wind carried it away.

“Cassandra Norton, you come out right now!”

Kim half-walked and half-ran over to the railing. She leaned on it and stared at the ice.

Most of the skaters weren’t very good. Couples on dates held hands and laughed. Children fell over and cried. Their parents rushed to them, wiping snow from their coats and tears from their eyes.

And Cassandra was gone.

“Is something wrong, ma’am?” It was the woman from the ticket counter. Kim realized now that was standing up, that she was tiny.

“Oh, well, I’m very sorry. My daughter wandered off.” She sounded so natural. Like it was no big deal. Her daughter was lost in a snow storm in a public park in this strange city, and she was acting like it was no big deal.

“Oh dear,” said the lady. “Did you check the ice?”

“That’s what I was just doing, but I don’t see her.”

“Well, don’t worry,” said the lady. “Let’s go check the bathrooms.”

“Thank you so much. What’s your name?” asked Kim.

“I’m Mary.”

“And do you work here?”

“Oh, no not really. I’m a volunteer.” She showed Kim a badge with her face on it, pinned to her parka. Her hand shook slightly. “I retired a few years ago and I don’t have much going on. So this keeps me busy. Now, let’s look in the stalls. What’s the girl’s name?”

“Cassandra. Cassie.”

Mary opened each of the toilet stalls, one by one. Cassie was not there. Mary looked back to Kim. “Well. We’ll have to-“

Kim interrupted her. “We’ll have to what? My daughter is missing! It’s below freezing outside. She’s only six years old!” She pushed past Mary, through the gate and onto the ice. She was screaming now, “Cassie? Cassie! Have you seen a little girl? I’m looking for my daughter.”

She was flat on the ice before she knew what had happened. She tried to stand and immediately fell again. And again.

Slowly, she got to her hands and knees. The pain where her hip had hit the ice was incredible. Skaters did their best to avoid her as they passed.

“Hey, you gotta wear skates on the ice, lady.”

“Watch out! Whatcha doin?”

Kim started to cry. She felt a small hand on her shoulder. Mary was standing next to her, reaching down to take her hand. This tiny old woman was perfectly balanced on the ice in her big hiking boots. Kim was afraid to lean on her, afraid she’d pull them both down to the ice. But she took Mary’s hand and got to her knees, then her feet.

“Mommy?”

Cassie was standing in the gate that Kim had just come through, getting ready to walk onto the ice. She had skates on. She looked worried.

“You know you have to wear skates on the ice, right Mommy?”

Kim slipped and slid her way over to the railing, holding on to Mary for balance. She got the feeling Mary had done this before.

“Where have you been?” she grabbed Cassie’s shoulders, maybe a little too hard.

“Oh, I went to get my skates.” Cassie pointed ot her feet. “The guys at the rental desk were really nice.”

All three of them sat down on a bench in front of the cafeteria. Kim did her best to pretend she wasn’t crying.

“It’s just so hard, you know? Robbie’s at work all day, and then at night he’s practicing for this stupid play that he’s in, and I’m home alone, and well, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have behaved that way. “

“Tell you what,” said Mary, smiling at her. “Let me grab my skates and I’ll take you around the rink a few times. Just show you the basics.”

“Okay,” Kim smiled down at Cassie, who was jumping up and down in her skates. “We’d love that."

I have to tell you a secret. Everything is connected. All of the Forty Stories tie together into one big thing. All the characters you meet are connected, somehow to all the other ones. I don’t want to make it too obvious, and I won’t mention it every time, but yeah, if you listen or read closely, it’s all there.

Which leads me to tonight’s Big Picture:

How is this story connected to Episode Four, “Cold Feet?” Go back and listen to both of them if you’re not sure, but I think I didn’t hide it too well…this time. (pause) Yeah, this is Robbie’s wife and kid. That’s how it is with all these stories. Maybe they take place in the same…bar? Or maybe one character in one story is the roommate, or the mother of a character in another story. Who knows? You’ll have to listen closely to find out.

And the dictionary disco is…ice disco? Is that possible?

The first vocabulary word for tonight is MUFFLE. To muffle something is to wrap it up. In fact, a lot of people use the word “muffler” where I, an American, would say “scarf.” But ”muffle” can also mean to make something quiet. Like the muffler on a car does. Kind of like if you….wrapped it in a scarf. Right?

The second vocabulary word is INCREDIBLE. This one is interesting because it literally means you cannot believe it. Like a liar. But somehow, now, incredible just means…really strong or amazing, or…awesome.

And tonight’s Melody Moment?

Let’s keep going with voiced and unvoiced pairs. So…..”T” how do you make a “T” sound? You tap your tongue on the top of your mouth. Can you feel the bumpy part on the top of your mouth? That’s called the alveolar ridge. Easy to say, right? Alveolar ridge. So anyway, just put your tongue on those bumps, and…tap. “T” Easy right? Now, do it with a little vibration in your throat. What do you get? “D” Yup. They’re a pair.

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 7 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Part 2: Selling Point by Norman Arkawy

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 08 Feb 2023 22:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season (Not in a season) Episode (No episode number)

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 02:00 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:44

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Part 1: Selling Point, by Norman Arkawy

Edward Cooper Howland — Thu, 02 Feb 2023 00:15:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season (Not in a season) Episode (No episode number)

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 1:56 and the tiny lessons begin at 12:50

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

OK so, this week and next week, we’re gonna take a little break from Forty Stories. Why? Because it’s really, really hard for me to write a good story every single week, and make the tiny lessons, AND record and edit everything. Also, I want these Forty Stories to finish around Christmas this year, so actually, I need to take some breaks. So. I found a fun science fiction story from 1955 that’s out of copyright, and I’m gonna read it to you. This one is…well…I don’t want to spoil it for you. But I can tell you that this story is very sweet. Nothing horrible, I promise.

SELLING POINT

By Norman Arkawy

A new industry blossomed when U.S. Robot

Company put their perfected models on the market.

Perfected? Nobody had considered the one defect!

"Good morning, madam," Ira said. "I represent...."

"We don't want any," said the women, easing the door shut.

With the time tested finesse of door-to-door salesmen, Ira slipped his size twelve shoe between the swinging door and the jamb. "But madam, if you'll give me a few minutes of your time...."

The woman shook her head. "It won't do you any good," she said, trying to squeeze the door shut over his foot. "Whatever it is, we don't want any."

"I represent U.S. Robot Company," Ira persisted. He smiled pleasantly. His unyielding foot maintained a six inch wide avenue of communication between himself and the woman in the house. "Long the leader in commercial and industrial mechanicals, U.S. Robot is now introducing a new line of home servants, designed to assist the housewife in every possible task about the house."

"You're wasting your time," the woman said wearily.

Ira used his professional smile to indicate that he enjoyed wasting his time. "When you've seen the demonstration," he said, "I'm sure you'll agree that no home should be without a Model I household robot."

The woman looked out at him silently, patiently, resigned. She was pretty and petite and very young; and, from her appearance, had never done a day's work in her life. A typical newlywed, Ira thought. A perfect prospect, he decided.

"As you undoubtedly know, the outstanding characteristics of U.S. Robot mechanicals have always been ability, durability and reliability. Their performance in industry has earned for the United States Robot Company the enviable reputation it is proud to possess: 'Leader in the art, artist of the trade—if it's U.S. Robot, it's perfect!'"

The woman smiled and allowed the door to swing open slightly. "What about Amalgamated Androids?" she asked. "I understand they've got some pretty good models, too."

"Well," Ira admitted, "some of their models are pretty good; adequate, perhaps. But why take anything but the best? And, of course, our robots...."

"I've seen some AA models that are perfect," the woman said. A suggestion of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "How can yours be any better than perfect?"

Ira's voice took on a confidential complexion. "Some of their models are beautiful," he conceded. "And they may seem to work well when they're new. But they're not built to last, like ours. Why...."

"I think," the woman tried to interrupt, "that some of...."

"How can you compare them to U.S. Robot?" Ira ran on. "We have had forty-seven years of experience in producing mechanicals for the most difficult jobs imaginable. Amalgamated Androids while producing an adequate household model, does not have the valuable know-how to build into their mechanicals the strength and quality that is taken for granted in every machine bearing the U.S. Robot label."

The woman was skeptical. "Maybe your company does make the best factory hands," she argued, "but household robots must be esthetic as well as rugged. And Amalgamated Androids are specialists in building humanoid robots, while your company...."

"But, madam," Ira said, grinning. "Our household models are perfectly human in appearance—I should say, imperfectly human because we even give them tiny blemishes to make them seem more natural."

The woman was obviously unconvinced. Ira applied the clincher. "What greater proof could you want than this?" He held up his left hand, baring his wrist so that she could read his identification stamp.

Model I (Masc.)

Serial No. 27146 12V

U.S. ROBOT CO., INC.

The woman's eyes widened. Her face took on an expression of delighted surprise.

"What better proof could you want?" Ira repeated. "Do I look like a robot? Am I not a perfect humanoid? Here," he said, extending his hand, "feel my skin and see if it isn't just like a man's."

The woman gingerly touched his hand. Her eyes mirrored her satisfaction.

Ira pressed his advantage. "Model I robots come in both masculine and feminine designs, built to your individual specifications as to size, coloring, strength, personality traits, apparent age, and so forth. For example, lonely people can have companionship built in, if they like. You can have an Ira or Inez possessing an almost human intelligence and free choice, or you can get one that is blindly servile and which will never volunteer advice or information. You can get an elderly, refined butler or a handsome young man-around-the-house. You can get a pretty, petite parlor maid or a buxom cook."

Ira paused to observe his customer. She was looking at him in a peculiar way. Knowing that he was a robot, she seemed to be appraising him as she would a man. Ira noted her odd reaction and puzzled over it. It usually went the other way—women lost interest in him when they learned that he was not a man.

"Why don't you come inside," the woman suggested suddenly, opening the door for him.

Ira smiled at her graciously and went into the house. Her reaction was not so puzzling, after all, he decided. A young and virtuous wife would feel the conventional fears that were "built into her" by society. She had to be careful. It was conceivably dangerous to be alone in the house with a handsome man. But, if he's a robot, she has nothing to fear—from him or herself.

Well…..That’s part one. What do you think? I think it’s very cute. I’ve always loved old science fiction stories like this. So, like always when we do a two-part story like this, I’d like you to take a moment and make a prediction about how this story will end. Maybe even write it down on a piece of paper, so you can check it next week. What’s gonna happen with Ira and this lady? I’m not gonna tell….

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

How’s the big picture looking? Cute. It’s looking cute.

My question is, why does Ira reveal that he’s a robot? Take a minute and think about it. It’s because he’s trying to show how lifelike the US Robots are. They could fool anyone.

And what’s the hot new dance at the Dicitonary Disco? It’s the ROBOT. Of course. I’m sorry.

Anyway I have two vocabulary words for you. The first one is: “adequate.” It’s in there twice, it must be important. Adequate means…good enough. Not really very good. But, you know. OK.

And the second vocab word is….gingerly. It has nothing to do with the yummy spice, ginger. Instead, it means very carefully, or cautiously. So when she touched his hand gingerly, maybe she’s a little bit afraid of him?

And how about a nice Melody Moment?

It’s…P. It’s the sound you get from the letter PEE. This one is hard for me, because it’s rough on the microphone. So I’ll do my best. To make this sound correctly, you have to bring your lips into your mouth. And then POP them back out again. “P” And this is an unvoiced sound. You don’t use your throat. But if you did, what sound would it make? Try, by yourself, right now. “P” but vibrate your throat. Yeah. “B” Like BEE. Crazy, right? P and B are like 95% the same sound.

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to this special bonus episode of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

I got this story from Project Gutenberg, which is a super cool resource for copyright-free books, and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Cold Feet"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 25 Jan 2023 23:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 4

Thank you for downloading this episode.

Here is the video about "dude" that I was talking about. CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO

👉The story begins at 02:15 and the tiny lessons begin at 16:30

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Today’s story is about the theater. I did some acting in college, so I know a little about what it’s like to be on a stage. The play in the story is a real play. It’s called “Take Me Out,” by Richard Greenberg, and it’s about baseball. Specifically, it’s about what would happen if the best player in all of professional baseball came out as a gay man. It’s an amazing play, and if you ever get a chance, you should definitely see it. It also has a lot of naked men in it. So yeah, content warning, you will hear the word naked at least nine more times in this podcast. There’s nothing sexual, but…the story is about taking off your clothes on stage. I’ll talk more about this play after the story, because I don’t want to spoil anything. For now, let’s enjoy.

The name of this story is….Cold Feet.

Act One - Tech Rehearsal

“Look,” said Tom, “I get it. It’s a locker room. We’re in the shower. People shower naked. It makes perfect sense. But I’m just saying, why do I have to be naked?”

Tom stood on stage, in his bathing suit. All the actors were wearing bathing suits. He could hear the air conditioning rattle. He could hear the lights humming. Everyone was staring at him. Raymond got up out of his seat and ran his fingers through his hair.

“You have to be naked, Tom, because everyone has to be naked. You knew that when you signed up for the play. You already agreed to it.”

“I know I did. But maybe, like, can’t I just wear a towel? I’m just one of the guys on the team. Dante and Robbie, those guys, the show is about them. They’re the really important ones. But I’m just in the background anyway, so why does it matter if I’ve got a towel on or not?”

“Because you agreed to it, Tom! Because everyone agreed to it. Because you’ve known for six weeks of rehearsal that everyone gets naked!”

“ I thought I could do it,” said Tom, shifting his weight from side to side. “I really did. It didn’t seem like such a big deal when I signed up. It’s just like, my mom’s gonna see it. And my sister.”

“Oh my god.” It was hard to see anything from the stage, with all the lights, but Tom could tell that Raymond was furious. He was walking up and down the aisle, shouting. “Six weeks rehearsing with these Americans and now Tom wants to change the whole script.”

Robbie stepped to the edge of the stage. “Raymond? Ray? Maybe we should stop for tonight? I’ll talk with Tom. Okay?”

Raymond disappeared into the foyer, swearing.

“Come on,” said Robbie. “I’ll buy you a beer.”

Act Two - The Shack

“Just think about the rest of us, OK? We all gotta go through this together, man. It’s just like in the show. We’re a team. Everyone gets naked. Together. We’re a team.”

The two of them sat at a cheap table, drinking cheap beer. On the karaoke stage, some college kids were singing old hair metal, their friends cheering them on.

“Is it really about your mom?”

“No, I told her as soon as I got the part. She thinks it’s pretty funny, actually. My sister, too. And the thing is, I know they will make fun of me for it. And that’s fine. They always do.”

“So…..? What’s up, man? You’ve been working out. We all have. You’re gonna look great out there. Unless….do you have something…you know……..weird down there?” Robbie was pointing.

“Me? No, no.” Tom leaned back in his chair. “That’s all really, incredibly normal and boring. I think…it’s just…So many people, you know? Like, hundreds of people. Every night. Strangers. They’re gonna see me. All of me. I just hate it.”

“Yeah but that’s the thing, right?” Robbie leaned in. “That’s what the show is all about. It’s about vulnerability. It’s about being honest with strangers about who you are. And, like in the show, some people love it when you’re honest and vulnerable, and some people just hate it. Because you being honest makes them uncomfortable.”

“Maybe…being…vulnerable….makes…….me uncomfortable.”

“Well, Tom, I think you may want to change careers. How can you be an actor if you can’t be vulnerable? That’s what we do. We get on stage, and we open ourselves up. We show the audience something true. Something honest. And maybe they like it and maybe they don’t. But that’s not really our problem. We just have to do our job.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Now, look. Let’s just rip the band-aid off, ok? Let’s go get naked. Right now. ”

“What, like here? In the bar?”

“No, dude, I don’t wanna get arrested. Come on, we’ll go to your place, and we’ll take off all our clothes, and stand in the living room and practice our lines.”

“That's the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard in my entire life. What if my roommates come home?”

“They can read Dante’s part. Come on, man, let’s go be vulnerable.”

Act Three - Opening Night

It was easy.

It was just as easy as wearing the bathing suit was. He took off his robe backstage, and he walked out into the warm lights, and he was naked.

Tom was naked on the stage, pretending to take a shower with his buddies. He pretended to shampoo his hair while his friends argued about what it means to be a man, and a hundred and fifty people, - including his mom and sister - watched them silently.

Until -

“Oi! You horrible little creature! Give it here! No, no, give it!”

The lights were so bright, Tom couldn’t see anything offstage.

Raymond was in the audience. He was screaming, swearing, and…was he…fighting with someone?

“You give me that phone right this instant, young lady!”

Someone was making a video. Some girl was making a video of Tom and Robbie and everyone else on stage.

“I swear to god, I’m going smash that phone into a thousand pieces. You’ll go to prison for this!”

Raymond and the girl were rolling in the aisle now, fighting over the phone. The whole audience was talking, standing up, trying to see what was happening. They all had their phones in their hands, taking video of the fight.

Tom looked at Robbie, then the other guys. They all, very slowly, reached for their towels.

OK, so you should know, I wasn’t in this play back in college. But a bunch of my friends were. And they all had to take off their clothes and pretend to shower together, and…more. No spoilers. And the thing with the camera? That’s real. In May 2022, Jesse Williams, who you might know from Grey’s Anatomy, was starring in “Take Me Out” on Broadway. And somebody took a video from the audience, and put it on the internet. It was a big scandal. I’ve been reading about it all week. And kind of obsessing over it because back in 2005 or whatever, when my friends were doing this play, we didn’t have smartphones. There wasn’t such a big risk. But now…it’s much scarier to do stuff like that on stage. Oh, and the thing with the director attacking the audience member? It didn’t happen with Jesse Williams, but it has happened. You can google it.

Do not use your phone in a theater. It’s a really bad idea.

Let’s do some tiny lessons?

The Big Picture tonight was definitely NOT taken on a phone in a theater.

My question is, what is it that Tom is so nervous about? Why is he uncomfortable taking his clothes off on stage? Take a minute and think about it…..I think it’s just like he said. He doesn’t actually want to be honest. He’s afraid of getting hurt.

And do you think we can keep our clothes on in the Dictionary Disco?

We are gonna talk about one of my favorite words. DUDE. It just means, “man.” But you can use it absolutely any way you like. “Dude, that’s so cool.” “Hey dude, are you hungry?” “Wow, look at this dude over here.” I’ll put a link in the show notes to a scene in a film where the only dialogue is…”dude.”

The other vocabulary word is “vulnerable.” It just means you can be hurt. So like, Superman is invulnerable. Bullets just bounce off him. But going on stage, and trying to share something honest and true. That makes you vulnerable. You can be hurt. That’s what the story is about.

And how about a Melody Moment?

We’ve talked about MMMM. And we talked about NNNN. But. There’s another one. It’s like their cousin. NNNNGGG. It’s the sound at the end of the words SING, and THING. So. You start with NNNN, so your mouth is a little open, and your tongue is touching the roof of your mouth. Then move your tongue back about a centimeter. The whole tongue. And then, I don’t know how else to say this, you push the sound….out your nose. NNNNG. Watching. Waiting. Thinking. Oooh, that one has it twice!

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 4 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Mustang"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 18 Jan 2023 22:45:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 3

Thank you for downloading this episode.

You really, really should watch this video to understand just what kind of car we are talking about: CLICK HERE TO WATCH

👉The story begins at 1:42 and the tiny lessons begin at 16:50

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Today’s story comes with a Content Warning: it’s about a panic attack, and there’s a conversation about mental illness. Nothing too serious, but if you’re not in the mood to hear something like that, maybe stop and come back later. Don’t worry, though. There’s other stuff in the story. In fact, if you don’t know what a 1967 Ford Mustang looks and sounds like, go ahead and pause right now. Look in the show notes, I’ve added a link to a youtube video . Check it out. It’s pretty awesome…

So, of course, the name of this story is… Mustang.

Carl was dying. He was standing in his kitchen and he couldn’t breathe, and he was dying. The edges of his vision were blurry. He couldn’t breathe. He heard a noise. Short and sharp and fast, it repeated again and again and again, identical.

Dottie was in the next room, finishing her coffee. If he called her, she would come and take him to the hospital. But they couldn’t afford an ambulance. They couldn’t even afford to keep what they had.

The noise was coming faster now and his vision was narrowing to a tunnel. He was in a white tunnel. He was sure that he was dying. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t find the breath to call his wife’s name.

Suddenly, he was sitting on the floor. His back hurt. Had he fallen?

He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, like it wanted to escape. Like it wanted to burst out of his chest and run screaming down the hall. He was having a heart attack, and he was going to die here on his own stupid kitchen floor.

He could hear her voice. It sounded like she was underwater. Or maybe like he was underwater and she was on the beach, calling to him. Like she was miles away. She was saying his name.

The noise was starting to slow down. It sounded like a dog panting on a summer day.

It was him. The noise was him.

It was his own breath, and it was starting to slow down. The tunnel widened, and he could see the kitchen door, and the Mustang in the driveway. Her hands were under his arms now, lowering him onto his back. He was laying on the floor and she was there with him.

“Dottie?” he gasped. “I’m having a heart attack. I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying, Carl. It’s just a panic attack.”

“How do you know?” he said. “I can’t breathe and my heart’s going to explode and I’m going to die.”

“You’ve never had a panic attack before?”

“I’ve never felt anything like this in my entire life. I couldn’t see.”

“Well, you’re pretty lucky, then. Jean used to have them all the time. Just focus on your breath for a little while. Breathe in through your nose, slowly, and now breathe out through your mouth.”

In eight years, Carl had never cried in front of Dottie. He hadn’t cried when he put that nail through his foot. He hadn’t cried when the dog died. He had cried when his mother died, but he did it in the coat closet when Dottie was out of the house.

He knew he was crying now because he could see the surprise on her face. He could feel the tears on his cheeks and suddenly his whole body was shaking as he turned and hid his face in his hands. He sobbed like a child.

“I’m sorry,” he bawled into his hands. “This is so stupid.”

“Shhhhh,” whispered Dottie. “It’s fine.”

She was on the floor with him, stroking his hair with one hand. With the other she picked up a crumpled piece of paper from where it had fallen when Carl sat down.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the bill of sale for Dad’s Mustang.” He had pushed himself up onto one arm. “The buyers sent it over. We just need to fill out our info, and then we all go to the DMV together. ”

“And then it’s theirs?”

“Yeah.”

“But for now it’s still ours, right?” She was standing now, pulling at his hand. “Get the hell up, Carl. Let’s go for a drive.”

They walked out into the sun, Carl wiping snot and tears from his face with his sleeve.

The Mustang sat in the driveway, cherry-red and polished chrome.

“Come on,” she was walking around to the passenger’s side.

Carl got in the driver’s seat and breathed deeply. It smelled like leather and oil and Dad’s cigar smoke. He turned the key. The engine thundered for a moment before settling into its neutral purr. It was breathing, slowly and steadily. He reached down and put it in reverse. “You said Jean had those all the time, when you were kids?”

She looked at him. “Panic attacks? Yeah. She still does sometimes.”

“Do you know why?”

“I do. And it’s none of your business.”

He waited a moment at a stop sign. “And, like, how did she deal with it?”

“She didn’t for a long time, and it just got worse and worse. Eventually she had to spend a couple weeks in a center.”

“Like…a…?”

“Like a residential psychiatric hospital. And they got her sober and into therapy and yoga and breathing and stuff, and when she got out, she taught me how to help her when she couldn’t help herself. I was eleven.”

“Well. Yoga. I dunno if I can do yoga.”

“It helped her.”

They drove on in silence for a few minutes. She rolled her window down and he breathed deeply, carefully, smelling the summer air and the exhaust and her perfume. He turned on the AM radio and found a ball game. When they hit the deep country and Carl was pretty sure there wasn’t another car for miles, he started to stand on the gas. The Mustang roared like a circus beast pulling on its chain. Carl could feel it, vibrating up through the seat and into his whole body.

When they hit fourth gear, the vibration smoothed out and Dottie put her hand on his, both of them holding the gearshift together.

“Just keep going,” she whispered. “Go to Vermont. Go to Canada. Let’s just go somewhere for the weekend. We haven’t signed the papers yet. It’s still ours.”

Carl looked at his wife, and he thought about how far they could get with the money they had in the bank. He thought about last week when he had to put just sixteen dollars worth of gas into the tank, because sixteen dollars was all he had until payday.

“Nah,” he said. “That’s what Dad would have done. And this isn’t his car anymore. It’s mine. Let’s go on home.”

Well, there you go. That’s my story about a 1967 Red Ford Mustang, and a man’s first panic attack. Have you ever had a panic attack? I have. More than a few, especially these last couple years with COVID and everything. That one actually came straight from my life. I really thought I was having a heart attack and that I was gonna die. But I survived.

I think it’s really important to talk openly about mental health issues. I think that pretty much everyone is carrying a lot of pain, now more than ever. And I think if we talk about it, we might realize that it’s not strange or bad. It’s just part of life. So a lot of these forty stories are gonna be about people struggling with their pain. Because…everyone is.

Let’s do a couple tiny lessons.

It’s a beautiful day for a drive. What a lovely Big Picture.

Why did Carl have a panic attack? Take a moment and think. It’s because he had to sell the car. But more than that, it’s because he had to sell his dad’s car. And clearly, Carl has some…issues with his Dad. But hey, who doesn’t?

And the Dictionary Disco? Think we can dance all night?

Our first vocabulary word is: panting. Like I said in the story, it’s the sound that a dog makes after it’s been running. With its tongue hanging out. You know that sound. I’m not gonna do it here, because…it would be a little gross.

Speaking of gross, the second vocabulary word is: snot. Snot is a great word. It’s mucus. From your nose. Like when you’re sick, or crying. Snot. Really sounds like what it is, right? Snot

Finally, we need to slow down and breathe for our melody moment.

Back at Christmas, we talked about the Hyperschwa. That’s when a schwa is so tiny that it actually deletes itself. The technical term is vowel deletion. But Hyperschwa sounds cooler. But what about the word “dunno?” It’s actually two words: “don’t know” but the O in don’t, it’s so reduced, so deleted, that it actually deletes the T, and drags the two words together. Two words become one! And why do we do this? Because it’s faster and easier. Try it: Don’t know…dunno. Much easier. Maybe we can call this… an ultraschwa!

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 3 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "Sleigh Ride Together"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 11 Jan 2023 22:15:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 2

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 1:44 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:30

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

“Sleigh Ride Together”

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Today’s story is about sledding. “Sleigh” is just a fancy word for a sled. I come from Massachusetts, USA, and when I was a kid, sledding was a big part of winter life. The story is also about family, and about having - or…being - a big brother. Some of it comes from my real life, and some of it is just made up. I’m not gonna tell you which parts are which, though. You can try to figure it out for yourself.

So anyway, let’s listen to it.

“Don’t worry,” said Kevin. “We used to come here every year on Christmas break.”

“Who’s ‘we?’”

“Me and the guys. Mark and Ben and Tommy.”

“Tommy who broke his arm crashing this same sled in seventh grade? That Tommy?”

“Yeah and he was always the first one calling me up and asking me to bring it out. He knows how awesome it is.”

And with that, Kevin carefully laid the sled down in the middle of the trail, straddled it slowly, and sat down. He was gone in an instant, the sled rocking wildly as he barely avoided a large rock on the right side of the trail and shot out into the sunny soccer field. As he slid under the goal posts at the far end of the field. Kevin popped up off of the sled, jumping up and down. He was tiny from this far away, no bigger than her finger. He was waving his arms, probably yelling something, but she couldn’t hear.

It took nearly ten minutes for him to haul the sled back up. His wool hat was coated with snow. His cheeks were red and his smile was enormous. “Go!” he said. “It’s so awesome!”

Mandy’s hands were shaking as she took the bright red plastic sled. She hadn’t ridden it since elementary school, but she remembered it well. She knew that the tiniest error could bang her into a tree or dump her out onto a rock, especially since Tommy’s famous crash had ripped the safety belt out. She tried to pick out a safe route and sat down, holding tight to the sides of the sled.

She felt Kevin’s boot against her back, but she had no time to say anything before he pushed with his leg and she was flying.

There was no time to think, no time to breathe. Her cheeks hurt and she could hear the bottom of the sled scraping along the packed snow and ice of the sledding trail. Pine needles stung her face and the wind froze her eyes.

When the sled got to the bottom of the hill and soared out into the warm sun and the wide-open field, she realized that her eyes were closed. She opened them as she sped across the field, barely slowing down until she, too, had arrived near the goalposts. She was alive. She was free, and nothing could touch her. He was right. It was awesome.

The sunlight bounced off the perfect icy crust of the snow directly into Mandy’s eyes, blinding her. She held one gloved hand up to guard against the glare and grabbed the rope with the other. She started back towards the hill, her feet crunching through the thin sheet of ice into the fluffy snow beneath, dragging their sled behind her.

She was going to murder her older brother.

“You idiot,” she shouted when she got to the top. “You can’t do that to someone on this sled! You remember what happened to Tommy.”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “You’re fine. You did a great job.”

“If you push me like that again, I’m going to throw you off this hill myself, Kevin. I swear to God.”

“OK, OK. I promise.”

They sledded for hours, each time starting a little higher, going a little faster, a little less in control of the sled. It was only four PM, but the sun was already close to the trees around their old elementary school, the shadows growing long on the snow. The soccer field was marked with dozens of fresh paths, each a little longer than the last, reaching out closer and closer to the street.

“Just one more?” he asked her.

“Let’s go together,” she said. “Then neither of us has to wait at the bottom, or walk down from the top of the hill.”

“OK,” Kevin smiled. “Like the old days.”

Kevin sat in the back of the sled and Mandy sat between her big brother’s legs. They both kept their feet outside the sled, holding it in place in the snow and ice.

“Are you ready?” he asked her.

“Ready.” He wrapped his arms around her and she was safe for just one moment.

“Three…two…one…GO!”

The sled shot forward as they both brought their legs in. Pine trees, rocks, bits of greenery flew past them. Mandy screamed, terrified but thrilled. She kept her eyes open, focused on the mouth of the trail, the point where the forest ended and the fields began, where they would fly out into the sun and then they could go home and have hot chocolate.

The tree stump was only a few centimeters around and barely stuck out of the snow at all. The school’s gardeners must have cut it down in the autumn, preparing for the winter. Anyone could have missed it.

They were going full speed when the bottom of the sled hit the stump. Mandy was in the air before she knew what was happening. Kevin was below her, and then he was above her. Blue sky and white snow and brown, dead winter forest spun around her like a kaleidoscope.

When she opened her eyes she was on her back in the snow. The steam of her breath floated off into the cloudless sky. Kevin’s face appeared, blood streaked across his nose and mouth.

“Are you OK, Man?” Was he laughing or crying? Both?

Mandy patted herself. Her arms and legs were working. She coughed and tried to sit up.

“I….think so.”

He helped her to her feet, and they stood there for a while, hand on their knees. He spat some blood into the snow and they laughed.

“The sled is totally busted,” he said, holding up the two halves. “And I’m pretty sure my face is too.”

She held his face in both hands, checking the cuts.

“You’re fine,” she told him. “But Mom’s gonna kill us.”

“Don’t worry.” He gave her a bloody smile. “I’ll tell her it was just me.”

What do you think? Is Kevin a good older brother or a bad one? If you ask me, nobody is all good or all bad with their family. We all make mistakes. We do things we don’t really mean to. Sometimes we hurt each other and we don’t even know why. That’s just part of being family. But so is apologizing, and so is forgiving family members when they do stupid stuff. Like kicking their little sister down a mountain.

Let’s do some lessons.

The Big Picture is cold and snowy today.

Where are they sledding? I mentioned it only once. See if you can find it. They are in their hometown, on a hill near their elementary school. They’re quite a bit older than that now, but a good sledding hill is hard to find.

Can you dance in the Dictionary Disco when it’s this cold outside?

The first vocabulary word is….”awesome.” This is such a great word. See, in English, Awe is like a feeling of respect and wonder, mixed with fear. Like if you met an Angel or something, you’d feel Awe. So awesome originally meant something that makes you feel respect and wonder and fear. Now we use it more just like “cool” or something. But Awe…it’s still in there.

The second word is “stump,” as in a tree stump. Maybe you figured it out from the story, but it’s pretty important, so I’ll explain. When you cut a tree down, the part that’s still sticking out of the ground, attached to the roots? That’s a stump. Not fun to hit at high speed on a sled.

And today’s melody moment?

We talked about MMM a couple weeks ago. How about NNNN? They’re pretty close sounds. This one is usually spelled with an N. So what’s the big difference between MMM and NNN? There are actually two. The first one is, with NNN, you gotta keep your lips open. The second is your tongue. To make NNNN correctly, your tongue has to touch the top of your mouth. Near the front, but not on your teeth. So like the word “Man,” you start with lips closed, and tongue just kinda…chilling. And you end with lips open and tongue…up. Try it…Mannnnnnnn

Let’s do the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 1 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Forty Stories - "One"

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 04 Jan 2023 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 1

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 03:10 and the tiny lessons begin at 14:30

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Well. Happy New Year, everyone. I hope you are enjoying a little vacation, and staying warm.

This week’s story is the scariest one I’ve ever read on the show. Why is it scary?

Because I wrote it.

In fact, from now on, unless I say otherwise, all the stories will be written by me. That was actually my plan from the beginning, but I wanted to figure out how to….you know…make a podcast before I started sharing stuff that I wrote.

So here’s the plan: This year I will write and record forty stories. Each of the stories will have the normal three tiny lessons. If you pay close attention, you’ll see that all the stories are connected. The characters in each story are all connected to the characters in other stories. It’s all one world. And if you listen to all of it, I hope, one large story will emerge. But each story is complete on its own as well, so don’t stress about it too much.

This is the biggest, most complicated, project I’ve ever started, and I really hope I can get through it in a year. More than that, I hope you all enjoy it.

The name of this story, appropriately enough , is:

“One”

The timing is the most important thing. Ben knows that she will arrive at the bar just after eight o’clock, like she does every Wednesday night. She and her girlfriends will come in laughing and joking. They’ll pull off their scarves and blow into their cold hands and order enormous glasses of cheap red wine. Then she will sign up for karaoke. She will sing sad songs by U2. Ben knows this because she only ever sings sad songs by U2.

Ben knows that when it’s her turn, she will place her glass of wine carefully on the stool behind her, hold the microphone with both hands, and sing like this is the most important song in the whole world. Her voice will be flat, and she will probably forget some words, but Ben won’t care. He loves her because she sings from her heart. The timing is the most important thing because when she comes in just after eight o’clock tonight, Ben will be on the stage, singing U2’s best, saddest song.

He is nervous about singing the last part of the song. There are a bunch of very long, very high notes, like “ooOOooOO, and “HaaaaHaaHaAaaa.” Then he has to do some rock star “yeah! yeah! yeah! yeah!” stuff. During his lessons, his voice cracked almost every time he tried to hit the high notes. When he tried to say “yeah!” like a real rock star, he always felt like an idiot. He practiced again and again, until his teacher said it was good, but he never agreed. The end of the song is the best part, the most important part, and it has to be perfect.

You can’t smoke indoors anymore, but somehow the bar still smells like an ashtray. None of the chairs match, as if they were bought from different yard sales. His cheap table wobbles, and if his beer falls off it, he can’t afford another one. He sees the bartenders look at him, then talk quietly to each other, then look at him again. He assumes it’s because he doesn’t drink as much as everyone else does. He wonders why she loves coming here.

It’s almost eight o’clock now, and she hasn’t arrived yet. Two boys are on the karaoke stage, singing some new rap song that Ben’s never heard. He only listens to real music. Music from before he was born. His name is next on the list. He is starting to panic. The timing is the most important thing. The rap song is finished, and the boys are cheering with their friends. Now the bar is silent. It’s 8:01. He got the timing right, but she’s not here. Ben is walking as slowly as he can to the stage, trying to take as long as possible, trying to give her a chance to arrive, to park her car, to do whatever she does before she comes in through that door.

The guitar intro is playing on the speakers, signaling the start of the song. Ben carefully places his beer on the stool behind him and grabs the microphone with both hands. The little ball on the karaoke screen is bouncing onto the first word. This is it, their big moment together, and she’s not here.

He only misses the first few words before he starts singing. He has been practicing this song and only this song with his music teacher twice a week for three months, ever since he realized that it’s the only sad U2 song that she never sings. He doesn’t have to think about it any more. It’s automatic now.

He’s finishing the first section. It’s slow and minimal, but the lyrics are already sad. They’re about loss and blame, yes, but also hope and love. The drums are playing softly and he has a moment to look around before the second verse starts. She still isn’t here. Maybe she was in an accident, or maybe she’s singing to someone else in another bar.

The second section is much heavier. There are more instruments, and the lyrics are darker. Ben is singing about regret, and he is singing from his heart, because he knows about regret, and about how relationships can fall apart. If only she were here to see him sing this verse. Then she would know about his pain. She would know that all he needs is someone beautiful to love him.

The song keeps building, adding strings and more guitars for the third section. This is the darkest part of the song, full of accusations and pain. She’s not here. How could she do this to him? He spent months and thousands of dollars learning how to sing this song perfectly and she didn’t come on time. He’s singing perfectly, but he wants to just give up and go home.

As the song reaches its climax, Ben is starting to cry. Everything was supposed to be perfect. If she had just come on time, she would know his heart by now. She would know his pain, and she would know that he loves the same music as her, and she would know that they’re supposed to be together. Now, of course, it’s all a disaster. She’ll never see him sing from his heart. She’ll never fall in love with him.

Ben is arriving at the end of the song. There are a lot of lyrics about hope and support and grief and loss, and then name of the song is repeated twice. Just as he is singing that second, “One…” he feels a blast of cold air from the other side of the bar. The door is halfway open. She’s alone, shivering from the cold, pushing the heavy door with her shoulder. When she hears what song is playing, she stops and stares at the stage.

This last part of the song is the most difficult for him. But now she is here. She is looking right at him and she is starting to cry. He has to do it perfectly. The timing is the most important thing.

So that’s it. That’s the first story in the collection. Only thirty-nine left to go! How did you like it? What do you think about these characters? how do you feel about Ben? Is he a romantic? Or a creep? Or both? I mean, I know how I feel about him. But actually….I’m not going to tell you. I want you to draw your own conclusions.

The thing is, one of my rules for this project is that nobody can be the protagonist more than once. So maybe Ben, or one of the bartenders, or this girl he’s got a crush on will show up later, but the story will never be ABOUT Ben again. So….bye, Ben!

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

First, let’s take our first look at the big picture.

My question for you is: what song is he singing? I think I made it clear in the story, but did you figure it out?

Yeah it’s “one.” Like the name of the story. I gave it away at the end there, by singing. Sorry about my singing , by the way. I recommend you go watch the video for that song, or listen on your phone or whatever, then read the story again, thinking about that music, in that moment. Does it change the story for you?

Now, how about a quick visit to the dictionary disco

The first vocabulary word is: flat. YOu probably know flat like not-curvy, or maybe even an apartment in UK English. But in this case, singing FLAT means that your melody is wrong. The pitch is just a little BELOW where it should be. Like my singing. Very flat.

The second one is grief. Grief is sadness, but it’s a very specific kind of sadness. It’s sadness about LOSS. Like after someone dies, or a relationship ends, you experience grief. You grieve.

And last, let’s rest for a melody moment.

I wanna talk about the word: O’clock. I teach English almost every day, and this one is really tough for students. There are two O’s in this word, But they make totally different sounds. If you’ve listened to the first season of ALE, the Winnie-the-Pooh episodes, you know the first one. It’s our old friend, the SCHWA. So it’s an unstressed syllable. UH. The second O, though. That one is even harder. It’s an AH sound. Yeah. The letter O, makes an AH sound. So the two vowels together are….uhAH. Try it. Don’t worry, the guy next to you on the subway won’t notice. Just say…uhAH. Now say, O’clock using those same vowels. How’d you do?

Thank you for listening to Season 3 Episode 1 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Conversations with Tabatha (01)

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 28 Dec 2022 22:00:00 +0900

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉This week is a conversation. I didn't read a story, and I didn't do any editing! Don't worry, next week will be back to normal.

👉There isn't a transcript either! See you in 2023!

Lots of love,

Cooper & Tabatha

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

'Twas the Night Before Christmas (A Visit from St. Nicholas) by Clement Clarke Moore

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 21 Dec 2022 22:45:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 9

CLICK HERE FOR ILLUSTRATIONS OF THIS STORY

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 03:10 and the tiny lessons begin at14:15

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

First of all, I want to say we just reached 2,000 downloads, which is totally crazy. I’m so grateful to all the people who are listening. YOU’re all over the world, and you’re listening to my little show and it’s just amazing. Thank you.

This episode will be a little different, because I’m not reading a story. I’m reading a poem. It’s easily the most famous poem about Christmas. One year when I was a kid, my parents got me and my brother and sister to memorize the whole thing and recite it at family Christmas. So like, three elementary school kids can memorize and recite it. It’s not too difficult.

Next week I have something very special planned, and then in the new year, I’m going to start Season Three, which will have one big difference. Since I started planning this show, I always wanted to write the stories myself. Now that I’ve been reading other people’s stories for about five months, I think I’m ready. So I will write and read my own stories for as long as I can. Maybe some weeks I’ll do something different, but for a while at least, I’ll be the author of all the stories. I really hope you enjoy them.

Anyway, let’s get into the poem. By the way, Project Gutenberg has some really excellent illustrations for this poem. There is a link at the top of the show notes, and it’s worth going to see them.

The Night before Christmas (or, A Visit from St. Nicholas) by Clement Clarke Moore.

We will start with the introduction, which might help you understand something about the poem

Amid the many celebrations last Christmas Eve, in various places by different persons, there was one, in New York City, not like any other anywhere. A company of men, women, and children went together just after the evening service in their church, and, standing around the tomb of the author of “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” recited together the words of the poem which we all know so well and love so dearly.

Dr. Clement C. Moore, who wrote the poem, never expected that he would be remembered by it. If he expected to be famous at all as a writer, he thought it would be because of the Hebrew Dictionary that he wrote. (This is Edior Cooper in the future. Remember, Hebrew is a language)

He was born in a house near Chelsea Square, New York City, in 1781; and he lived there all his life. It was a great big house, with fireplaces in it;—just the house to be living in on Christmas Eve.

Dr. Moore had children. He liked writing poetry for them even more than he liked writing a Hebrew Dictionary. He wrote a whole book of poems for them.

One year he wrote this poem, which we usually call “’Twas the Night before Christmas,” to give to his children for a Christmas present. They read it just after they had hung up their stockings before one of the big fireplaces in their house. Afterward, they learned it, and sometimes recited it, just as other children learn it and recite it now. (This is Editor Cooper in the future. See?)

It was printed in a newspaper. Then a magazine printed it, and after a time it was printed in the school readers. Later it was printed by itself, with pictures. Then it was translated into German, French, and many other languages. It was even made into “Braille”; which is the raised printing that blind children read with their fingers. But never has it been given to us in so attractive a form as in this book. It has happened that almost all the children in the world know this poem. How few of them know any Hebrew!

Every Christmas Eve the young men studying to be ministers at the General Theological Seminary, New York City, put a holly wreath around Dr. Moore’s picture, which is on the wall of their dining-room. Why? Because he gave the ground on which the General Theological Seminary stands? Because he wrote a Hebrew Dictionary? No. They do it because he was the author of “A Visit from St. Nicholas.”

Most of the children probably know the words of the poem. They are old. But the pictures that Miss Jessie Willcox Smith has painted for this edition of it are new. All the children, probably, have seen other pictures painted by Miss Smith, showing children at other seasons of the year. How much they will enjoy looking at these pictures, showing children on that night that all children like best,—Christmas Eve!

And it’s signed,

E. McC.

Who I don’t know who that is. And by the way, the pictures that they’re talking about in this introduction, if you follow the link at the top of the show notes of this podcast, you can see them. And you should. They’re really good

And now, the poem.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!

On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONNER and BLITZEN!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!

So, that’s the most famous poem about christmas. We all read it when we are kids. Do you? Did they translate it to your language? Is this the first time you’ve heard it?

How about some tiny lessons?

The Big Picture is looking pretty Christmasy!

Tonight’s question is, who is this Saint Nick person?

Of course, it’s Santa Claus. He looks pretty different from our idea of him. He is kinda…fat, nd he has a white beard and a pipe. But he’s not wearing red and white. Instead he’s wearing…all fur. Which makes more sense really. It’s cold on Christmas Eve. But the Red-and-white Santa, that comes from Coca-Cola in the 1930s. Really. Theyre the same colors as a can of Coke!

How about a little dance at the Dictionary Disco?

Our first vocabulary word is: stockings. I’m not sure where you’re listening from, but generally stockings these days are like nylons. They’re long and thin and for ladies, mostly. But we’re not talking about that. We’re talking about the big thick socks that we hang in front of the fireplace. And santa stuffs them full of chocolate and oranges and all kinds of good presents. If you’ve been a good kid. Of course.

The second word is, clatter. It’s a sound word again. It’s a sound like a bunch of hard objects knocking together. Sounds like the word, right? CLATTER. Like a sound effect in a comic book

And how is this for a Melody Moment?

I wanna talk about the first word in the poem. “ ‘twas ” Definitely not a normal English word, ‘twas. But it actually goes back to something I talk about all the time. I am obsessed with vowel reduction, when a vowel sound like “A” gets kind of squished and becomes “a” (that’s a schwa) Well sometimes we go even further from vowel reduction to vowel deletion. So instead of saying IT WAS, we delete the vowel in the first word and say…..’twas. I call this….hyperschwa. Nobody else calls it that. And actually it’s pretty unusual to write a hyperschwa. We say stuff like that, but don’t write it out. Except, of course, in poems. In poems you can do anything you want.

Let’s do the credits

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 9 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and this time it came from gutenberg.org, which is also really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

The Gift of the Magi, part 2 by O. Henry

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 14 Dec 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 8

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 2:14 and the tiny lessons begin at 13:28

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Tonight we are going to finish our Christmas story, so if you haven’t heard the first part, go back and listen to the last episode. In part one, we met Della, who doesn’t have enough money for a Christmas present for her husband, Jim. We haven’t met him yet. This couple, they are very poor and have only two things of value: his pocketwatch and her hair. Della is so desperate to get some money for a Christmas present that she sells her beautiful hair to a wig-maker for twenty dollars. She buys Jim a fancy chain for his grandfather’s pocketwatch. We stopped just as Jim is getting home, so let’s see what happens.

And remember, don’t worry about the fancy vocabulary. The story is pretty clear. And it’s really good.

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two—and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

“Jim, darling,” she cried, “don’t look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn’t have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It’ll grow out again—you won’t mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say ‘Merry Christmas!’ Jim, and let’s be happy. You don’t know what a nice—what a beautiful, nice gift I’ve got for you.”

“You’ve cut off your hair?” asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

“Cut it off and sold it,” said Della. “Don’t you like me just as well, anyhow? I’m me without my hair, ain’t I?”

Jim looked about the room curiously.

“You say your hair is gone?” he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

“You needn’t look for it,” said Della. “It’s sold, I tell you—sold and gone, too. It’s Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,” she went on with sudden serious sweetness, “but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?”

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year—what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

“Don’t make any mistake, Dell,” he said, “about me. I don’t think there’s anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you’ll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first.”

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs—the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims—just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: “My hair grows so fast, Jim!”

And then Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, “Oh, oh!”

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

“Isn’t it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You’ll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it.”

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

“Dell,” said he, “let’s put our Christmas presents away and keep ’em a while. They’re too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on.”

The magi, as you know, were wise men—wonderfully wise men—who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

—----------------------------------------------------—----------------------------------------------------—--------------

So, I’m only crying like, a little bit. And I remember that story from school. I remember it made me really sad, because her hair will grow back but they’ll never get that watch again.

And I think I missed the point when I was in elementary school. I think I missed the last paragraph

Because well, I guess we need to talk about what magi are. They’re a Christmas thing. They’re the three men who came to visit Jesus after he was born. And like he says in the story, they invented the art of giving christmas presents. In Sunday school, we called them the three wise men. Or maybe you know the Christmas carol, “We Three Kings?” (HUM) Those guys.

So I guess the big picture can only be one question.

Why are these two, Jim and Della, the wisest? Why are they compared to the three wise men in the bible? Why are they the wisEST?

I think it’s because they both sacrificed their most important possession for love. Because they weren’t thinking about themselves, only about the people they love. Which is the whole point of Christmas, after all.

Still feel like dancing at the dictionary disco?

How about this one: alas. Like “a scream of joy and then, alas…” well actually then some kinda sexist nonsense. But alas, it’s an old fashioned way of expression sadness or grief. It’s an exclamation, like…”oh no!”

The second word is, “singed,” as in, Della “leaped up like a little singed cat.” To singe something is to burn it, but just a tiny little bit! So a singed cat is a cat that got a little too close to the fireplace. So yeah Della jumped pretty fast!

And tonight’s melody moment?

I think it’s time to talk about, “M.” This is the sound you mostly see written as M. This sound, MMMMM it’s actually really easy to make. You just have to make sure that you touch your lips together. And don’t really do anything else. Your tongue is just in the middle of your mouth. Not touching anything. And push your lips together. And yeah this is a voiced sound, so you gotta vibrate your throat. MMMMMM Fun!

Next week we will do an even more Christmasey story. Actually, it’s a poem. You probably know it, but I love it. See you then.

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 7 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

The Gift of the Magi, part 1 by O. Henry

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 07 Dec 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 7

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 02:00 and the tiny lessons begin at 20:00

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Well, it’s Christmastime. It’s not Christmas yet, but it’s ChristmasTIME. And in my house, that means one thing: Christmas Movies. All December. Home Alone and Gremlins and Die Hard and this absolutely horrifying Korean movie called The Tower. And it also means it’s time for Christmas stories. So let’s start out with one that I still remember from elementary school. It’s by an author named O. Henry, who was a very famous short story writer from the USA in the 20th century. This story is from 1905, and there is some wild vocabulary, but honestly don’t even stress about it. The plot is easy to follow. And beyond that, I’m not going to tell you anything about it. Let’s just get started.

The Gift of the Magi

By O. Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name “Mr. James Dillingham Young.”

The “Dillingham” had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called “Jim” and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn’t go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling—something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim’s gold watch that had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. The other was Della’s hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty’s jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della’s beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: “Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds.” One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the “Sofronie.”

“Will you buy my hair?” asked Della.

“I buy hair,” said Madame. “Take yer hat off and let’s have a sight at the looks of it.”

Down rippled the brown cascade.

“Twenty dollars,” said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

“Give it to me quick,” said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim’s present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation—as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim’s. It was like him. Quietness and value—the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends—a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

“If Jim doesn’t kill me,” she said to herself, “before he takes a second look at me, he’ll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do—oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?”

At 7 o’clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit of saying a little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: “Please God, make him think I am still pretty.”

And that’s where we will stop for tonight.

I honestly am starting to cry.

I’m certain that I will cry by the end of the story. This is a really special story. And again, there’s some crazy vocabulary because O Henry wanted to sound smart. But, it’s not really important. To be honest, I don’t know what “meretricious” means. I’ve never heard that word before. But I get the idea. It means fancy. It’s talking about fancy watchchain. So, If you’re confused go back and listen again And just listen to the story. Also, maybe I can help you with

Three Tiny Lessons

Can you see the Big Picture?

What does Della do with her hair? And although it’s not stated in the story, why would that lady give her $20 for it (which is about $600 in today’s money)?

It’s all about making wigs. At that time, in 1905, there was no fake human hair. So they had to use human hair to make wigs. Della sold her beautiful hair, so some rich lady could wear it around. Awful.

And the Dictionary Disco? How’s it sound?

There is SO MUCH old vocabulary in this story. So maybe you wanna spend some time with a actual dictionary, looking up words. Don’t forget, there is a transcript in the show notes. But I’ll help you with two of them.

First is Falter, As in “for a moment, she faltered.” It means to lose strength or momentum. So Della allllmost didn’t have the strength to sell her hair. But she did in the end.

The second word is “ripple,” as in “Down rippled the brown cascade.” Ripples are the little waves in water when there is some wind or a little current. Or if you drop a rock into a still pond. So her hair, moves like water. It flows. Beautiful.

What about a Melody Moment?

Let’s talk about “L” This is the sound that’s written with an L. I’m not sure where you are or what your first language is, but here in Japan, people have a lot of trouble with L. And there’s a pretty simple reason for it. In the Japanese language, you never, ever, ever touch your teeth with your tongue. And to say “L” properly, you have to tap the end of your tongue against your front top teeth. Try it. Tap Tap La La La! Now move your tongue back like one centimeter so it doesn’t touch teeth any more. Different, right? Not the same sound. So that’s the lesson. You gotta touch your teeth!

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 7 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part 2: Beyond the Door

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 30 Nov 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 6

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:50 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:07

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

This is the second and last part of “Beyond the Door” by Philip K Dick. Last episode we met four characters. There’s Larry, who’s kind of a jerk. His wife, Doris, is fooling around with her friend, Bob. And then there’s this cuckoo clock. Larry got it as a gift for Doris, and she has…kinda….fallen in love with it? I don’t know. It’s weird. The last thing that happened was, Doris and Bob were talking about the clock. She called it….”he.” Like it’s her friend.

So let’s see what happens.

“He?” Bob frowned. “Who is he?”

Doris laughed. “You’re jealous! Come on.” A moment later they stood before the clock, looking up at it. “He’ll come out in a few minutes. Wait until you see him. I know you two will get along just fine.”

“What does Larry think of him?”

“They don’t like each other. Sometimes when Larry’s here he won’t come out. Larry gets mad if he doesn’t come out on time. He says⁠—”

“Says what?”

Doris looked down. “He always says he’s been robbed, even if he did get it wholesale.” She brightened. “But I know he won’t come out because he doesn’t like Larry. When I’m here alone he comes right out for me, every fifteen minutes, even though he really only has to come out on the hour.”

She gazed up at the clock. “He comes out for me because he wants to. We talk; I tell him things. Of course, I’d like to have him upstairs in my room, but it wouldn’t be right.”

There was the sound of footsteps on the front porch. They looked at each other, horrified.

Larry pushed the front door open, grunting. He set his briefcase down and took off his hat. Then he saw Bob for the first time.

“Chambers. I’ll be damned.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?” He came into the dining-room. Doris drew her robe about her helplessly, backing away.

“I⁠—” Bob began. “That is, we⁠—” He broke off, glancing at Doris. Suddenly the clock began to whirr. The cuckoo came rushing out, bursting into sound. Larry moved toward him.

“Shut that din off,” he said. He raised his fist toward the clock. The cuckoo snapped into silence and retreated. The door closed. “That’s better.” Larry studied Doris and Bob, standing mutely together.

“I came over to look at the clock,” Bob said. “Doris told me that it’s a rare antique and that⁠—”

“Nuts. I bought it myself.” Larry walked up to him. “Get out of here.” He turned to Doris. “You too. And take that damn clock with you.”

He paused, rubbing his chin. “No. Leave the clock here. It’s mine; I bought it and paid for it.”

In the weeks that followed after Doris left, Larry and the cuckoo clock got along even worse than before. For one thing, the cuckoo stayed inside most of the time, sometimes even at twelve o’clock when he should have been busiest. And if he did come out at all he usually spoke only once or twice, never the correct number of times. And there was a sullen, uncooperative note in his voice, a jarring sound that made Larry uneasy and a little angry.

But he kept the clock wound, because the house was very still and quiet and it got on his nerves not to hear someone running around, talking and dropping things. And even the whirring of a clock sounded good to him.

But he didn’t like the cuckoo at all. And sometimes he spoke to him.

“Listen,” he said late one night to the closed little door. “I know you can hear me. I ought to give you back to the Germans⁠—back to the Black Forest.” He paced back and forth. “I wonder what they’re doing now, the two of them. That young punk with his books and his antiques. A man shouldn’t be interested in antiques; that’s for women.”

He set his jaw. “Isn’t that right?”

The clock said nothing. Larry walked up in front of it. “Isn’t that right?” he demanded. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

He looked at the face of the clock. It was almost eleven, just a few seconds before the hour. “All right. I’ll wait until eleven. Then I want to hear what you have to say. You’ve been pretty quiet the last few weeks since she left.”

He grinned wryly. “Maybe you don’t like it here since she’s gone.” He scowled. “Well, I paid for you, and you’re coming out whether you like it or not. You hear me?”

Eleven o’clock came. Far off, at the end of town, the great tower clock boomed sleepily to itself. But the little door remained shut. Nothing moved. The minute hand passed on and the cuckoo did not stir. He was someplace inside the clock, beyond the door, silent and remote.

“All right, if that’s the way you feel,” Larry murmured, his lips twisting. “But it isn’t fair. It’s your job to come out. We all have to do things we don’t like.”

He went unhappily into the kitchen and opened the great gleaming refrigerator. As he poured himself a drink he thought about the clock.

There was no doubt about it⁠—the cuckoo should come out, Doris or no Doris. He had always liked her, from the very start. They had got along well, the two of them. Probably he liked Bob too⁠—probably he had seen enough of Bob to get to know him. They would be quite happy together, Bob and Doris and the cuckoo.

Larry finished his drink. He opened the drawer at the sink and took out the hammer. He carried it carefully into the dining-room. The clock was ticking gently to itself on the wall.

“Look,” he said, waving the hammer. “You know what I have here? You know what I’m going to do with it? I’m going to start on you⁠—first.” He smiled. “Birds of a feather, that’s what you are⁠—the three of you.”

The room was silent.

“Are you coming out? Or do I have to come in and get you?”

The clock whirred a little.

“I hear you in there. You’ve got a lot of talking to do, enough for the last three weeks. As I figure it, you owe me⁠—”

The door opened. The cuckoo came out fast, straight at him. Larry was looking down, his brow wrinkled in thought. He glanced up, and the cuckoo caught him squarely in the eye.

Down he went, hammer and chair and everything, hitting the floor with a tremendous crash. For a moment the cuckoo paused, its small body poised rigidly. Then it went back inside its house. The door snapped tight-shut after it.

The man lay on the floor, stretched out grotesquely, his head bent over to one side. Nothing moved or stirred. The room was completely silent, except, of course, for the ticking of the clock.

“I see,” Doris said, her face tight. Bob put his arm around her, steadying her.

“Doctor,” Bob said, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” the doctor said.

“Is it very easy to break your neck, falling from so low a chair? It wasn’t very far to fall. I wonder if it might not have been an accident. Is there any chance it might have been⁠—”

“Suicide?” the doctor rubbed his jaw. “I never heard of anyone committing suicide that way. It was an accident; I’m positive.”

“I don’t mean suicide,” Bob murmured under his breath, looking up at the clock on the wall. “I meant something else.”

But no one heard him.

Oh ho ho ho! The Clock killed Larry. Oh my gosh. Did you expect that’s what would happen? I certainly didn’t. I thought that there would be alike aliens or something. Not just BOOM the cuckoo killed him. Good story! The next couple weeks, we are gonna do another Philip K Dick story, and then…Christmas! I’m pretty excited. Let’s do some tiny lessons.

First, can we take a Big Picture?

We already talked about the murder cuckoo. So how about this? I think that Larry planned to murder Doris AND Bob. And I have a good reason for thinking that. Can you pause and go back through the text and find my reason? Maybe you disagree? Check it out.

Larry says to the clock, “I’m going to start on you-first.” Meaning hammering. To me, that means he plans to hammer Bob and Doris next. What do you think?

How about a Dance at the Dictionary Disco?

The first word today is gonna be…antique. As an adjective, it means old. Specifically it’s something that’s more than 100 years old. If it’s less than 100 years old, it can be vintage, but not antique. But here it’s used as a noun. Antiques are old, valuable furniture for fancy houses.

The second vocabulary word is…”grotesque.” It’s actually “grotesquely,” but that’s just the adverb form. So grotesque means totally ugly and disgusting. So like Larry at the end, he was stretched out grotesquely because of the angle of his broken neck. Eeew.

And can we have a Melody Moment?

So last week we talked about the voiced pair of SHHH and ZHHH. What happens if you add a “t” sound before “shhh?” you get “CH” Like a C and an H. The sound for CH has a “t” in it. Wild! So, if you add a “t” to “shh” and get CH…what about when it’s voiced? The voiced version of “T” is “D,” so the voiced version of “CH” is….”J.” Yeah. Like my brother’s name….George.

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 6 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part 1: Beyond the Door

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 23 Nov 2022 23:45:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper

👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY

Season 2 Episode 5

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:24 and the tiny lessons begin at 14:17

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

This is part one of a new story by Philip K Dick. This one is called Beyond the Door, and it’s only two episodes. It’s still a kind of horror story, but….a different kind. A smaller kind. Just a man, and his wife, and….the other man…..and…….the cuckoo clock. Enjoy!

That night at the dinner table he brought it out and set it down beside her plate. Doris stared at it, her hand to her mouth. “My God, what is it?” She looked up at him, bright-eyed.

“Well, open it.”

Doris tore the ribbon and paper from the square package with her sharp nails, her bosom rising and falling. Larry stood watching her as she lifted the lid. He lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall.

“A cuckoo clock!” Doris cried. “A real old cuckoo clock like my mother had.” She turned the clock over and over. “Just like my mother had, when Pete was still alive.” Her eyes sparkled with tears.

“It’s made in Germany,” Larry said. After a moment he added, “Carl got it for me wholesale. He knows some guy in the clock business. Otherwise I wouldn’t have⁠—” He stopped.

Doris made a funny little sound.

“I mean, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to afford it.” He scowled. “What’s the matter with you? You’ve got your clock, haven’t you? Isn’t that what you want?”

Doris sat holding onto the clock, her fingers pressed against the brown wood.

“Well,” Larry said, “what’s the matter?”

He watched in amazement as she leaped up and ran from the room, still clutching the clock. He shook his head. “Never satisfied. They’re all that way. Never get enough.”

He sat down at the table and finished his meal.

The cuckoo clock was not very large. It was handmade, however, and there were countless frets on it, little indentations and ornaments scored in the soft wood. Doris sat on the bed drying her eyes and winding the clock. She set the hands by her wristwatch. Presently she carefully moved the hands to two minutes of ten. She carried the clock over to the dresser and propped it up.

Then she sat waiting, her hands twisted together in her lap⁠—waiting for the cuckoo to come out, for the hour to strike.

As she sat she thought about Larry and what he had said. And what she had said, too, for that matter⁠—not that she could be blamed for any of it. After all, she couldn’t keep listening to him forever without defending herself; you had to blow your own trumpet in the world.

She touched her handkerchief to her eyes suddenly. Why did he have to say that, about getting it wholesale? Why did he have to spoil it all? If he felt that way he needn’t have got it in the first place. She clenched her fists. He was so mean, so damn mean.

But she was glad of the little clock sitting there ticking to itself, with its funny grilled edges and the door. Inside the door was the cuckoo, waiting to come out. Was he listening, his head cocked on one side, listening to hear the clock strike so that he would know to come out?

Did he sleep between hours? Well, she would soon see him: she could ask him. And she would show the clock to Bob. He would love it; Bob loved old things, even old stamps and buttons. He liked to go with her to the stores. Of course, it was a little awkward, but Larry had been staying at the office so much, and that helped. If only Larry didn’t call up sometimes to⁠—

There was a whirr. The clock shuddered and all at once the door opened. The cuckoo came out, sliding swiftly. He paused and looked around solemnly, scrutinizing her, the room, the furniture.

It was the first time he had seen her, she realized, smiling to herself in pleasure. She stood up, coming toward him shyly. “Go on,” she said. “I’m waiting.”

The cuckoo opened his bill. He whirred and chirped, quickly, rhythmically. Then, after a moment of contemplation, he retired. And the door snapped shut.

She was delighted. She clapped her hands and spun in a little circle. He was marvelous, perfect! And the way he had looked around, studying her, sizing her up. He liked her; she was certain of it. And she, of course, loved him at once, completely. He was just what she had hoped would come out of the little door.

Doris went to the clock. She bent over the little door, her lips close to the wood. “Do you hear me?” she whispered. “I think you’re the most wonderful cuckoo in the world.” She paused, embarrassed. “I hope you’ll like it here.”

Then she went downstairs again, slowly, her head high.

Larry and the cuckoo clock really never got along well from the start. Doris said it was because he didn’t wind it right, and it didn’t like being only half-wound all the time. Larry turned the job of winding over to her; the cuckoo came out every quarter hour and ran the spring down without remorse, and someone had to be ever after it, winding it up again.

Doris did her best, but she forgot a good deal of the time. Then Larry would throw his newspaper down with an elaborate weary motion and stand up. He would go into the dining-room where the clock was mounted on the wall over the fireplace. He would take the clock down and making sure that he had his thumb over the little door, he would wind it up.

“Why do you put your thumb over the door?” Doris asked once.

“You’re supposed to.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I wonder if it isn’t that you don’t want him to come out while you’re standing so close.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe you’re afraid of him.”

Larry laughed. He put the clock back on the wall and gingerly removed his thumb. When Doris wasn’t looking he examined his thumb.

There was still a trace of the nick cut out of the soft part of it. Who⁠—or what⁠—had pecked at him?

One Saturday morning, when Larry was down at the office working over some important special accounts, Bob Chambers came to the front porch and rang the bell.

Doris was taking a quick shower. She dried herself and slipped into her robe. When she opened the door Bob stepped inside, grinning.

“Hi,” he said, looking around.

“It’s all right. Larry’s at the office.”

“Fine.” Bob gazed at her slim legs below the hem of the robe. “How nice you look today.”

She laughed. “Be careful! Maybe I shouldn’t let you in after all.”

They looked at one another, half amused half frightened. Presently Bob said, “If you want, I’ll⁠—”

“No, for God’s sake.” She caught hold of his sleeve. “Just get out of the doorway so I can close it. Mrs. Peters across the street, you know.”

She closed the door. “And I want to show you something,” she said. “You haven’t seen it.”

He was interested. “An antique? Or what?”

She took his arm, leading him toward the dining-room. “You’ll love it, Bobby.” She stopped, wide-eyed. “I hope you will. You must; you must love it. It means so much to me⁠—he means so much.”

And that’s where we’re going to stop part one.

What do you think so far? It's not so totally horrible. There’s no dead bodies. Not yet anyway. Just three people and a clock. But it’s weird, right? There’s something strange going on. It’s hard to know what, but there’s something about that clock. Something….not….right.

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

The Big Picture’s looking good today!

I’ve got a question for you: What’s the deal with Bob? Is he just a friend? Is he Doris’ lover? How do you know? Take a minute. Maybe review some of the text.

Yeah they’re sleeping together. Or if they haven’t yet, they’re gonna soon. I know because she’s keeping him a secret. From her husband, and even from the lady across the street. She’s his secret. Good luck, Bob!

Let’s shake it on down at the Dictionary Disco.

The first vocabulary word is a phrasal verb, kind of. It’s “Afford it,” as in, “otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to afford it.” So if you can afford something, it means you have enough money to buy it. So we mostly see that as “I can’t afford it.” I don’t have enough money.

The second word is “nick,” as in “a nick on the soft part of his thumb.” A nick is a tiny little cut, like something was kind of dug out. Like if you just get yourself with the tip of a knife. Or the beak of a tiny wooden bird.

Can we share a Melody Moment?

I wanna talk about a really fun pair of sounds. And of course, they’re the same except for voicing. So let’s start with this one “SSSHHH” All kinds of different cultures use this sound to mean….? Yeah. Be quiet.

So what happens if you voice it? You get a sound that’s quite rare in English. ZHHHHHH. Try it. ZZZHHHH does your language have this sound? Where do you use it? What letter do you use? In English, it could be an S, like in Explosion or Asia. Or a G like in Garage. Or a J, like in Deja Vu. Or….a Z. Or a T. Or even in Luxury……it’s a X. ZHHHHHH

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 5 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part 4: The Hanging Stranger

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 16 Nov 2022 22:15:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 4

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:44 and the tiny lessons begin at 16:22

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Tonight we are finally finishing The Hanging Stranger by Philip K Dick. I promise, by the end of the story you will have the answer to the big question: is Ed losing his mind? Or has his town been invaded by bug monsters from another dimension? Either way, it’s not great for Ed. Last episode he murdered a bug monster pretending to be his son. Or….he murdered his son because he thought it was a bug monster. Then he ran ten miles to the next town to try and find someone to help. I wonder how it’s gonna go for ol’ Ed. Let’s find out…

A farmer in a field gaped at him. From a house a young woman watched in wonder. Loyce reached the road and turned onto it. Ahead of him was a gasoline station and a drive-in. A couple of trucks, some chickens pecking in the dirt, a dog tied with a string.

The white-clad attendant watched suspiciously as he dragged himself up to the station. "Thank God." He caught hold of the wall. "I didn't think I was going to make it. They followed me most of the way. I could hear them buzzing. Buzzing and flitting around behind me."

"What happened?" the attendant demanded. "You in a wreck? A hold-up?"

Loyce shook his head wearily. "They have the whole town. The City Hall and the police station. They hung a man from the lamppost. That was the first thing I saw. They've got all the roads blocked. I saw them hovering over the cars coming in. About four this morning I got beyond them. I knew it right away. I could feel them leave. And then the sun came up."

The attendant licked his lip nervously. "You're out of your head. I better get a doctor."

"Get me into Oak Grove," Loyce gasped. He sank down on the gravel. "We've got to get started—cleaning them out. Got to get started right away."

They kept a tape recorder going all the time he talked. When he had finished the Commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet. He stood for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he got out his cigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face.

"You don't believe me," Loyce said.

The Commissioner offered him a cigarette. Loyce pushed it impatiently away. "Suit yourself." The Commissioner moved over to the window and stood for a time looking out at the town of Oak Grove. "I believe you," he said abruptly.

Loyce sagged. "Thank God."

"So you got away." The Commissioner shook his head. "You were down in your cellar instead of at work. A freak chance. One in a million."

Loyce sipped some of the black coffee they had brought him. "I have a theory," he murmured.

"What is it?"

"About them. Who they are. They take over one area at a time. Starting at the top—the highest level of authority. Working down from there in a widening circle. When they're firmly in control they go on to the next town. They spread, slowly, very gradually. I think it's been going on for a long time."

"A long time?"

"Thousands of years. I don't think it's new."

"Why do you say that?"

"When I was a kid.... A picture they showed us in Bible League. A religious picture—an old print. The enemy gods, defeated by Jehovah. Moloch, Beelzebub, Moab, Baalin, Ashtaroth—"

"So?"

"They were all represented by figures." Loyce looked up at the Commissioner. "Beelzebub was represented as—a giant fly."

The Commissioner grunted. "An old struggle."

"They've been defeated. The Bible is an account of their defeats. They make gains—but finally they're defeated."

"Why defeated?"

"They can't get everyone. They didn't get me. And they never got the Hebrews. The Hebrews carried the message to the whole world. The realization of the danger. The two men on the bus. I think they understood. Had escaped, like I did." He clenched his fists. "I killed one of them. I made a mistake. I was afraid to take a chance."

The Commissioner nodded. "Yes, they undoubtedly had escaped, as you did. Freak accidents. But the rest of the town was firmly in control." He turned from the window. "Well, Mr. Loyce. You seem to have figured everything out."

"Not everything. The hanging man. The dead man hanging from the lamppost. I don't understand that. Why? Why did they deliberately hang him there?"

"That would seem simple." The Commissioner smiled faintly. "Bait."

Loyce stiffened. His heart stopped beating. "Bait? What do you mean?"

"To draw you out. Make you declare yourself. So they'd know who was under control—and who had escaped."

Loyce recoiled with horror. "Then they expected failures! They anticipated—" He broke off. "They were ready with a trap."

"And you showed yourself. You reacted. You made yourself known." The Commissioner abruptly moved toward the door. "Come along, Loyce. There's a lot to do. We must get moving. There's no time to waste."

Loyce started slowly to his feet, numbed. "And the man. Who was the man? I never saw him before. He wasn't a local man. He was a stranger. All muddy and dirty, his face cut, slashed—"

There was a strange look on the Commissioner's face as he answered. "Maybe," he said softly, "you'll understand that, too. Come along with me, Mr. Loyce." He held the door open, his eyes gleaming. Loyce caught a glimpse of the street in front of the police station. Policemen, a platform of some sort. A telephone pole—and a rope! "Right this way," the Commissioner said, smiling coldly.

As the sun set, the vice-president of the Oak Grove Merchants' Bank came up out of the vault, threw the heavy time locks, put on his hat and coat, and hurried outside onto the sidewalk. Only a few people were there, hurrying home to dinner.

"Good night," the guard said, locking the door after him.

"Good night," Clarence Mason murmured. He started along the street toward his car. He was tired. He had been working all day down in the vault, examining the lay-out of the safety deposit boxes to see if there was room for another tier. He was glad to be finished.

At the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around—and froze.

From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind.

What the hell was it?

Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad; he couldn't tell what it was. Yet it drew him on, made him move closer for a better look. The shapeless thing made him uneasy. He was frightened by it. Frightened—and fascinated.

And the strange part was that nobody else seemed to notice it.

Oooooh man! So….that’s the end! Did you guess right? Did it scare you? It scared me the first time I read it.

There is one thing I wanna talk about. The story gets very Biblical at the end. It talks about Beelzebub and demons and stuff, and it also mentions….the Hebrews. So, that word is kind of a problem. There is a language, Hebrew, which people speak in Israel today. And that word is used in the bible to refer to early Jewish people thousands of years ago. But these days, it is super not-OK to call Jewish people “Hebrews” in English. This story is 60 years old, and things were different back then, but today….not OK.

Anyway, I talked to my university students and I asked them, do you want to have a scary story next, or a fun one. They said they want horror! So, OK. More horror! We are gonna do two very short stories next, then maybe a longer one. All by Philip K Dick! I hope you enjoy.

Let’s have some lessons.

So the Big Picture is pretty clear to see.

Was Ed crazy? Or was his town invaded by bug people? How do you know? Maybe pause and think about it for a minute.

Yeah, the bug people were real. And how do we know? Because they caught him in the next town and hung HIM from the lamppost, as bait to draw out anyone else who escaped their mind control. Ed became the hanging stranger. Poor Ed.

Still feel like dancing at the Dictionary Disco?I’ve got two good words for you from the end of this part.

The first one is “Vague.” It means uncertain, or unclear. Like when you ask your teenager where they were, and they say, “oh, you know. Around.” Very vague.

The second one is “ominous,” as in “something ominous and ugly.” It means something that gives you the feeling that something horrible is going to happen. Like, this whole story is pretty ominous.

And maybe a Melody Moment?

Are you tired of hearing about voicing yet> Let me share one that kind of blew my mind when I figured it out. F and V make almost the same sound. The only difference between FFFFF and VVVVVV is voicing. Maybe that’s not such a surprise for you, but it was pretty big for me. I always thought of them as totally different sounds, but they’re really not. Here try this:Say FAN. Then say VAN. Now say LEAF and LEAVE. Pay attention to the positions of your lips, teeth, jaw and tongue. They’re exactly the same. The only difference is the vibration in your throat. Wild.

Let’s do the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 4 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part 3: The Hanging Stranger

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 09 Nov 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 3

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 2:00 and the tiny lessons begin at 17:20

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

And today you’re going to find out why Tabatha isn’t appearing in this story. Like I’ve been saying, this story is NOT for kids.

In the last two parts, we met Ed Loyce, who saw a dead guy hanging in the town square. Everyone else was okay with it, which, uh, freaked him out. Then he saw a crack in the sky, a portal into another universe hanging over City Hall. And bug-people were coming out of it. Oh yeah, and he killed a guy with a rock. But Ed’s day is about to get worse. He’s just arrived at home….

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Ed!" Janet Loyce backed away nervously. "What is it? What—"

Ed Loyce slammed the door behind him and came into the living room. "Pull down the shades. Quick."

Janet moved toward the window. "But—"

"Do as I say. Who else is here besides you?"

"Nobody. Just the twins. They're upstairs in their room. What's happened? You look so strange. Why are you home?"

Ed locked the front door. He prowled around the house, into the kitchen. From the drawer under the sink he slid out the big butcher knife and ran his finger along it. Sharp. Plenty sharp. He returned to the living room.

"Listen to me," he said. "I don't have much time. They know I escaped and they'll be looking for me."

"Escaped?" Janet's face twisted with bewilderment and fear. "Who?"

"The town has been taken over. They're in control. I've got it pretty well figured out. They started at the top, at the City Hall and police department. What they did with the real humans they—"

"What are you talking about?"

"We've been invaded. From some other universe, some other dimension. They're insects. Mimicry. And more. Power to control minds. Your mind."

"My mind?"

"Their entrance is here, in Pikeville. They've taken over all of you. The whole town—except me. We're up against an incredibly powerful enemy, but they have their limitations. That's our hope. They're limited! They can make mistakes!"

Janet shook her head. "I don't understand, Ed. You must be insane."

"Insane? No. Just lucky. If I hadn't been down in the basement I'd be like all the rest of you." Loyce peered out the window. "But I can't stand here talking. Get your coat."

"My coat?"

"We're getting out of here. Out of Pikeville. We've got to get help. Fight this thing. They can be beaten. They're not infallible. It's going to be close—but we may make it if we hurry. Come on!" He grabbed her arm roughly. "Get your coat and call the twins. We're all leaving. Don't stop to pack. There's no time for that."

White-faced, his wife moved toward the closet and got down her coat. "Where are we going?"

Ed pulled open the desk drawer and spilled the contents out onto the floor. He grabbed up a road map and spread it open. "They'll have the highway covered, of course. But there's a back road. To Oak Grove. I got onto it once. It's practically abandoned. Maybe they'll forget about it."

"The old Ranch Road? Good Lord—it's completely closed. Nobody's supposed to drive over it."

"I know." Ed thrust the map grimly into his coat. "That's our best chance. Now call down the twins and let's get going. Your car is full of gas, isn't it?"

Janet was dazed.

"The Chevy? I had it filled up yesterday afternoon." Janet moved toward the stairs. "Ed, I—"

"Call the twins!" Ed unlocked the front door and peered out. Nothing stirred. No sign of life. All right so far.

"Come on downstairs," Janet called in a wavering voice. "We're—going out for awhile."

"Now?" Tommy's voice came.

"Hurry up," Ed barked. "Get down here, both of you."

Tommy appeared at the top of the stairs. "I was doing my home work. We're starting fractions. Miss Parker says if we don't get this done—"

"You can forget about fractions." Ed grabbed his son as he came down the stairs and propelled him toward the door. "Where's Jim?"

"He's coming."

Jim started slowly down the stairs. "What's up, Dad?"

"We're going for a ride."

"A ride? Where?"

Ed turned to Janet. "We'll leave the lights on. And the TV set. Go turn it on." He pushed her toward the set. "So they'll think we're still—"

He heard the buzz. And dropped instantly, the long butcher knife out. Sickened, he saw it coming down the stairs at him, wings a blur of motion as it aimed itself. It still bore a vague resemblance to Jimmy. It was small, a baby one. A brief glimpse—the thing hurtling at him, cold, multi-lensed inhuman eyes. Wings, body still clothed in yellow T-shirt and jeans, the mimic outline still stamped on it. A strange half-turn of its body as it reached him. What was it doing?

A stinger.

Loyce stabbed wildly at it. It retreated, buzzing frantically. Loyce rolled and crawled toward the door. Tommy and Janet stood still as statues, faces blank. Watching without expression. Loyce stabbed again. This time the knife connected. The thing shrieked and faltered. It bounced against the wall and fluttered down.

Something lapped through his mind. A wall of force, energy, an alien mind probing into him. He was suddenly paralyzed. The mind entered his own, touched against him briefly, shockingly. An utterly alien presence, settling over him—and then it flickered out as the thing collapsed in a broken heap on the rug.

It was dead. He turned it over with his foot. It was an insect, a fly of some kind. Yellow T-shirt, jeans. His son Jimmy.... He closed his mind tight. It was too late to think about that. Savagely he scooped up his knife and headed toward the door. Janet and Tommy stood stone-still, neither of them moving.

The car was out. He'd never get through. They'd be waiting for him. It was ten miles on foot. Ten long miles over rough ground, gulleys and open fields and hills of uncut forest. He'd have to go alone.

Loyce opened the door. For a brief second he looked back at his wife and son. Then he slammed the door behind him and raced down the porch steps.

A moment later he was on his way, hurrying swiftly through the darkness toward the edge of town.

The early morning sunlight was blinding. Loyce halted, gasping for breath, swaying back and forth. Sweat ran down in his eyes. His clothing was torn, shredded by the brush and thorns through which he had crawled. Ten miles—on his hands and knees. Crawling, creeping through the night. His shoes were mud-caked. He was scratched and limping, utterly exhausted.

But ahead of him lay Oak Grove.

He took a deep breath and started down the hill. Twice he stumbled and fell, picking himself up and trudging on. His ears rang. Everything receded and wavered. But he was there. He had got out, away from Pikeville.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Ok, so who guessed that Ed would have to murder an enormous insect that was wearing his son’s clothes? Anyone? Anyone at all? Me neither. This story is wild! Don’t worry, not all of the stories this season are horror, and the next part of this story is the last one. But I’m having a lot of fun reading it. I hope you’re having fun listening!

Last episode I asked you to write down: do you think Ed is losing his mind, or are there really bug monsters? How do you feel after this episode? Have you changed your mind? I promise you will get an answer in part four. For now, let’s do some lessons.

First take a peek at the Big Picture

What is Ed’s plan? How is he going to beat the bug people?

He wants to get out of Pikeville, and go to the next town, Oak Grove. He has to go on foot by the old road because he thinks the police will capture him if he uses his car. Since the portal seems to only be over Pikeville, he’s hoping that he can get help in Oak Grove.

So, who’s dancing at the Dictionary Disco?

Our first word is: mimic, or mimicry. It means making a copy of something else. An imitation. Like, say, bug people pretending to be normal human beings. Ugh.

The second word is: vague, as in “a vague resemblance.” Vague is like uncertain, or unclear. So if a horrible bug monster vaguely resembles your son, it mostly looks like a…horrible bug monster.

Can I bother you for a Melody Moment?

Let’s talk more about voicing. When a word ends in “ED,” there are actually three different sounds that it can make. It could be “t” or “d” or “-id” So the first two are the same, but “d” is voiced. Try it for yourself. The third one, “-id” actually adds a syllable to the word. So like “start” is one syllable, but “started” is two syllables. So, I have a little quiz for you. I’m gonna say six words that end with “-ed.” You write down which ones have a “t” sound, a “d” sound, or an “id” sound. Ready?

Connected stamped crawled stabbed bounced exhausted

Got it?

Stamped and bounced have a “t” sound at the end.

Crawled and stabbed have a “d” sound

And exhausted and connected have an “id” sound.

Can you hear the different sounds? Can you say them?

Let’s go to the credits?

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 3 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part 2: The Hanging Stranger

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 02 Nov 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 2

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:52 and the tiny lessons begin at 17:58

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hey, this is Cooper. I’m playing around with some of the options in my podcast host and one thing that I can do is add little messages to ALL the episodes. So. Yesterday we reached a thousand downloads. That’s totally crazy to me. Amazing. I just want to say, thank you! Let’s get on to the story.

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Today we are going to continue with The Hanging Stranger. Again, this story is definitely NOT for children. And if you thought it was weird before….hang on. At the end of the last part, Ed Loyce was on the run. He had seen a dead guy hanging from a lamppost, but he was the only one who was worried about it. Everyone else thought that was….just fine. He ended up in a police car, but he didn’t recognize the cops. So he ran away. Are you ready for more scares? Here we go!

He was at the entrance of an alley, dark and strewn with boards and ruined boxes and tires. He could see the street at the far end. A street light wavered and came on. Men and women. Stores. Neon signs. Cars.

And to his right—the police station.

He was close, terribly close. Past the loading platform of a grocery store rose the white concrete side of the Hall of Justice. Barred windows. The police antenna. A great concrete wall rising up in the darkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had to keep moving, get farther away from them.

Them?

Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was the City Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brass and broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, dark windows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance.

And—something else.

Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser than the surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lost into the sky.

He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made him struggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound. A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees.

Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging over the City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid. In the vortex something moved. Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky, pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a dense swarm and then dropping silently onto the roof.

Shapes. Fluttering shapes from the sky. From the crack of darkness that hung above him.

He was seeing—them.

For a long time Loyce watched, crouched behind a sagging fence in a pool of scummy water.

They were landing. Coming down in groups, landing on the roof of the City Hall and disappearing inside. They had wings. Like giant insects of some kind. They flew and fluttered and came to rest—and then crawled crab-fashion, sideways, across the roof and into the building.

He was sickened. And fascinated. Cold night wind blew around him and he shuddered. He was tired, dazed with shock. On the front steps of the City Hall were men, standing here and there. Groups of men coming out of the building and halting for a moment before going on.

Were there more of them?

It didn't seem possible. What he saw descending from the black chasm weren't men. They were alien—from some other world, some other dimension. Sliding through this slit, this break in the shell of the universe. Entering through this gap, winged insects from another realm of being.

On the steps of the City Hall a group of men broke up. A few moved toward a waiting car. One of the remaining shapes started to re-enter the City Hall. It changed its mind and turned to follow the others.

Loyce closed his eyes in horror. His senses reeled. He hung on tight, clutching at the sagging fence. The shape, the man-shape, had abruptly fluttered up and flapped after the others. It flew to the sidewalk and came to rest among them.

Pseudo-men. Imitation men. Insects with ability to disguise themselves as men. Like other insects familiar to Earth. Protective coloration. Mimicry.

Loyce pulled himself away. He got slowly to his feet. It was night. The alley was totally dark. But maybe they could see in the dark. Maybe darkness made no difference to them.

He left the alley cautiously and moved out onto the street. Men and women flowed past, but not so many, now. At the bus-stops stood waiting groups. A huge bus lumbered along the street, its lights flashing in the evening gloom.

Loyce moved forward. He pushed his way among those waiting and when the bus halted he boarded it and took a seat in the rear, by the door. A moment later the bus moved into life and rumbled down the street.

Loyce relaxed a little. He studied the people around him. Dulled, tired faces. People going home from work. Quite ordinary faces. None of them paid any attention to him. All sat quietly, sunk down in their seats, jiggling with the motion of the bus.

The man sitting next to him unfolded a newspaper. He began to read the sports section, his lips moving. An ordinary man. Blue suit. Tie. A businessman, or a salesman. On his way home to his wife and family.

Across the aisle a young woman, perhaps twenty. Dark eyes and hair, a package on her lap. Nylons and heels. Red coat and white angora sweater. Gazing absently ahead of her.

A high school boy in jeans and black jacket.

A great triple-chinned woman with an immense shopping bag loaded with packages and parcels. Her thick face dim with weariness.

Ordinary people. The kind that rode the bus every evening. Going home to their families. To dinner.

Going home—with their minds dead. Controlled, filmed over with the mask of an alien being that had appeared and taken possession of them, their town, their lives. Himself, too. Except that he happened to be deep in his cellar instead of in the store. Somehow, he had been overlooked. They had missed him. Their control wasn't perfect, foolproof.

Maybe there were others.

Hope flickered in Loyce. They weren't omnipotent. They had made a mistake, not got control of him. Their net, their field of control, had passed over him. He had emerged from his cellar as he had gone down. Apparently their power-zone was limited.

A few seats down the aisle a man was watching him. Loyce broke off his chain of thought. A slender man, with dark hair and a small mustache. Well-dressed, brown suit and shiny shoes. A book between his small hands. He was watching Loyce, studying him intently. He turned quickly away.

Loyce tensed. One of them? Or—another they had missed?

The man was watching him again. Small dark eyes, alive and clever. Shrewd. A man too shrewd for them—or one of the things itself, an alien insect from beyond.

The bus halted. An elderly man got on slowly and dropped his token into the box. He moved down the aisle and took a seat opposite Loyce.

The elderly man caught the sharp-eyed man's gaze. For a split second something passed between them.

A look rich with meaning.

Loyce got to his feet. The bus was moving. He ran to the door. One step down into the well. He yanked the emergency door release. The rubber door swung open.

"Hey!" the driver shouted, jamming on the brakes. "What the hell—"

Loyce squirmed through. The bus was slowing down. Houses on all sides. A residential district, lawns and tall apartment buildings. Behind him, the bright-eyed man had leaped up. The elderly man was also on his feet. They were coming after him.

Loyce leaped. He hit the pavement with terrific force and rolled against the curb. Pain lapped over him. Pain and a vast tide of blackness. Desperately, he fought it off. He struggled to his knees and then slid down again. The bus had stopped. People were getting off.

Loyce groped around. His fingers closed over something. A rock, lying in the gutter. He crawled to his feet, grunting with pain. A shape loomed before him. A man, the bright-eyed man with the book.

Loyce kicked. The man gasped and fell. Loyce brought the rock down. The man screamed and tried to roll away. "Stop! For God's sake listen—"

He struck again. A hideous crunching sound. The man's voice cut off and dissolved in a bubbling wail. Loyce scrambled up and back. The others were there, now. All around him. He ran, awkwardly, down the sidewalk, up a driveway. None of them followed him. They had stopped and were bending over the inert body of the man with the book, the bright-eyed man who had come after him.

Had he made a mistake?

But it was too late to worry about that. He had to get out—away from them. Out of Pikeville, beyond the crack of darkness, the rent between their world and his.

I think that’s a pretty good place to stop for today.

Yeah. Ed just murdered a guy. The question is, was it a guy? Or was it a horrible bug monster? Are there even any bug monsters? Or is Ed going crazy? This is the kind of stuff I was talking about with Philip K Dick, the author. You never really know what’s going on. Maybe Ed’s crazy, or maybe…..he’s not. And which one would be more horrible? Anyway, how about some lessons?

The Big Picture’s looking pretty dark today!

Here’s kind of a really big picture. What Is Philip K Dick trying to say about normal people? Like the people on the bus. Does he like them? Why do you think so?

I know what I think. I think he hates them. Not only because he suggests that maybe all the people on the bus are horrible bug monsters from another dimension, but also because he uses words like “Dulled,” “Dim,” “Ordinary” to describe them. He also suggests that they might be mind controlled by aliens.

Let’s Dance at the Dictionary Disco like Zombies in that Michael Jackson video.

The first word is kind of a combination word. “Pseudo-men.” “Pseudo” means fake, or not real. So Pseudo-men are…fake men. Bug monsters.

The second word is “omnipotent.” “Omni” means “everything,” and “Potent” means “powerful.” So he’s saying that the bug monsters are NOT totally powerful. If they are real, of course.

Maybe, a Melody Moment?

Talking about voicing more. Let’s talk about “S” and “Z” They’re almost the same sound. Just ZZ is voiced, and SS is unvoiced. Where it gets interesting is at the end of words. So in the story a lady is wearing nylons and heels. Both of those words finish with the letter S. But the sound is definitely a Z. How about Shapes? Tha has a Ssss sound. “Monsters?” that’s a Z. Ghere’s another one we’ll talk about another time.

For now, I’d like you to decide: is Ed crazy? Or are there really bug monsters? Why do you think so? Maybe write it down before you listen to part three.

And let’s read the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 1 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part 1: The Hanging Stranger

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 26 Oct 2022 23:15:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 1

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:30 and the tiny lessons begin at 23:00

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

and….welcome to season two! This season we are reading science fiction stories by Philip K. Dick. I have to warn you, these stories are….not for kids. There aren’t any bad words or anything, but they’re pretty dark. I’ll talk more about Philip K. Dick at the end of the story, but….yeah. Spooky. Happy Halloween!

The Hanging Stranger, part one.

Five o'clock. Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his car out and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. His back and shoulders ached from digging dirt out of the basement and wheeling it into the back yard. But for a forty-year-old man he had done okay. Janet could get a new vase with the money he had saved; and he liked the idea of repairing the foundations himself!

It was getting dark. The setting sun cast long rays over the scurrying commuters, tired and grim-faced, women loaded down with bundles and packages, students swarming home from the university, mixing with clerks and businessmen and drab secretaries. He stopped his Packard for a red light and then started it up again. The store had been open without him; he'd arrive just in time to spell the help for dinner, go over the records of the day, maybe even close a couple of sales himself. He drove slowly past the small square of green in the center of the street, the town park. There were no parking places in front of LOYCE TV SALES AND SERVICE. He cursed under his breath and swung the car in a U-turn. Again he passed the little square of green with its lonely drinking fountain and bench and single lamppost.

From the lamppost something was hanging. A shapeless dark bundle, swinging a little with the wind. Like a dummy of some sort. Loyce rolled down his window and peered out. What the hell was it? A display of some kind? Sometimes the Chamber of Commerce put up displays in the square.

Again he made a U-turn and brought his car around. He passed the park and concentrated on the dark bundle. It wasn't a dummy. And if it was a display it was a strange kind. The hackles on his neck rose and he swallowed uneasily. Sweat slid out on his face and hands.

It was a body. A human body.

"Look at it!" Loyce snapped. "Come on out here!"

Don Fergusson came slowly out of the store, buttoning his pin-stripe coat with dignity. "This is a big deal, Ed. I can't just leave the guy standing there."

"See it?" Ed pointed into the gathering gloom. The lamppost jutted up against the sky—the post and the bundle swinging from it. "There it is. How the hell long has it been there?" His voice rose excitedly. "What's wrong with everybody? They just walk on past!"

Don Fergusson lit a cigarette slowly. "Take it easy, old man. There must be a good reason, or it wouldn't be there."

"A reason! What kind of a reason?"

Fergusson shrugged. "Like the time the Traffic Safety Council put that wrecked Buick there. Some sort of civic thing. How would I know?"

Jack Potter from the shoe shop joined them. "What's up, boys?"

"There's a body hanging from the lamppost," Loyce said. "I'm going to call the cops."

"They must know about it," Potter said. "Or otherwise it wouldn't be there."

"I got to get back in." Fergusson headed back into the store. "Business before pleasure."

Loyce began to get hysterical. "You see it? You see it hanging there? A man's body! A dead man!"

"Sure, Ed. I saw it this afternoon when I went out for coffee."

"You mean it's been there all afternoon?"

"Sure. What's the matter?" Potter glanced at his watch. "Have to run. See you later, Ed."

Potter hurried off, joining the flow of people moving along the sidewalk. Men and women, passing by the park. A few glanced up curiously at the dark bundle—and then went on. Nobody stopped. Nobody paid any attention.

"I'm going nuts," Loyce whispered. He made his way to the curb and crossed out into traffic, among the cars. Horns honked angrily at him. He gained the curb and stepped up onto the little square of green.

The man had been middle-aged. His clothing was ripped and torn, a gray suit, splashed and caked with dried mud. A stranger. Loyce had never seen him before. Not a local man. His face was partly turned, away, and in the evening wind he spun a little, turning gently, silently. His skin was gouged and cut. Red gashes, deep scratches of congealed blood. A pair of steel-rimmed glasses hung from one ear, dangling foolishly. His eyes bulged. His mouth was open, tongue thick and ugly blue.

"For Heaven's sake," Loyce muttered, sickened. He pushed down his nausea and made his way back to the sidewalk. He was shaking all over, with revulsion—and fear.

Why? Who was the man? Why was he hanging there? What did it mean?

And—why didn't anybody notice?

He bumped into a small man hurrying along the sidewalk. "Watch it!" the man grated, "Oh, it's you, Ed."

Ed nodded dazedly. "Hello, Jenkins."

"What's the matter?" The stationery clerk caught Ed's arm. "You look sick."

"The body. There in the park."

"Sure, Ed." Jenkins led him into the alcove of LOYCE TV SALES AND SERVICE. "Take it easy."

Margaret Henderson from the jewelry store joined them. "Something wrong?"

"Ed's not feeling well."

Loyce yanked himself free. "How can you stand here? Don't you see it? For God's sake—"

"What's he talking about?" Margaret asked nervously.

"The body!" Ed shouted. "The body hanging there!"

More people collected. "Is he sick? It's Ed Loyce. You okay, Ed?"

"The body!" Loyce screamed, struggling to get past them. Hands caught at him. He tore loose. "Let me go! The police! Get the police!"

"Ed—"

"Better get a doctor!"

"He must be sick."

"Or drunk."

Loyce fought his way through the people. He stumbled and half fell. Through a blur he saw rows of faces, curious, concerned, anxious. Men and women halting to see what the disturbance was. He fought past them toward his store. He could see Fergusson inside talking to a man, showing him an Emerson TV set. Pete Foley in the back at the service counter, setting up a new Philco. Loyce shouted at them frantically. His voice was lost in the roar of traffic and the murmur around him.

"Do something!" he screamed. "Don't stand there! Do something! Something's wrong! Something's happened! Things are going on!"

The crowd melted respectfully for the two heavy-set cops moving efficiently toward Loyce.

"Name?" the cop with the notebook murmured.

"Loyce." He mopped his forehead wearily. "Edward C. Loyce. Listen to me. Back there—"

"Address?" the cop demanded. The police car moved swiftly through traffic, shooting among the cars and buses. Loyce sagged against the seat, exhausted and confused. He took a deep shuddering breath.

"1368 Hurst Road."

"That's here in Pikeville?"

"That's right." Loyce pulled himself up with a violent effort. "Listen to me. Back there. In the square. Hanging from the lamppost—"

"Where were you today?" the cop behind the wheel demanded.

"Where?" Loyce echoed.

"You weren't in your shop, were you?"

"No." He shook his head. "No, I was home. Down in the basement."

"In the basement?"

"Digging. A new foundation. Getting out the dirt to pour a cement frame. Why? What has that to do with—"

"Was anybody else down there with you?"

"No. My wife was downtown. My kids were at school." Loyce looked from one heavy-set cop to the other. Hope flicked across his face, wild hope. "You mean because I was down there I missed—the explanation? I didn't get in on it? Like everybody else?"

After a pause the cop with the notebook said: "That's right. You missed the explanation."

"Then it's official? The body—it's supposed to be hanging there?"

"It's supposed to be hanging there. For everybody to see."

Ed Loyce grinned weakly. "Good Lord. I guess I sort of went off the deep end. I thought maybe something had happened. You know, something like the Ku Klux Klan. Some kind of violence. Communists or Fascists taking over." He wiped his face with his breast-pocket handkerchief, his hands shaking. "I'm glad to know it's on the level."

"It's on the level." The police car was getting near the Hall of Justice. The sun had set. The streets were gloomy and dark. The lights had not yet come on.

"I feel better," Loyce said. "I was pretty excited there, for a minute. I guess I got all stirred up. Now that I understand, there's no need to take me in, is there?"

The two cops said nothing.

"I should be back at my store. The boys haven't had dinner. I'm all right, now. No more trouble. Is there any need of—"

"This won't take long," the cop behind the wheel interrupted. "A short process. Only a few minutes."

"I hope it's short," Loyce muttered. The car slowed down for a stoplight. "I guess I sort of disturbed the peace. Funny, getting excited like that and—"

Loyce yanked the door open. He sprawled out into the street and rolled to his feet. Cars were moving all around him, gaining speed as the light changed. Loyce leaped onto the curb and raced among the people, burrowing into the swarming crowds. Behind him he heard sounds, shouts, people running.

They weren't cops. He had realized that right away. He knew every cop in Pikeville. A man couldn't own a store, operate a business in a small town for twenty-five years without getting to know all the cops.

They weren't cops—and there hadn't been any explanation. Potter, Fergusson, Jenkins, none of them knew why it was there. They didn't know—and they didn't care. That was the strange part.

Loyce ducked into a hardware store. He raced toward the back, past the startled clerks and customers, into the shipping room and through the back door. He tripped over a garbage can and ran up a flight of concrete steps. He climbed over a fence and jumped down on the other side, gasping and panting.

There was no sound behind him. He had got away.

Pretty different from Winnie-the-Pooh, right? Philip K. Dick was one of the really great science fiction authors of the 20th century. Maybe the greatest, really. Not all of his stories are as scary as this one, but they all ask a similar question: “what is real?” Like in this story, everyone can see a dead body hanging in the park, but only Ed Loyce is upset about it. So, is Ed crazy, or is something else happening? I guess you’ll have to come back for the next two weeks to find out.

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

First, it’s time to check out the big picture.

So, does this story take place in a city or a small town? Pause the show and think about it. Why do you think so?

I think it’s in a small town in America in the 1940s or 50s. Why? Well, at the end, Ed says you can’t work in a small town for twenty five years without knowing all the cops. And everyone just knows everyone else. Like they do in a small place.

How about dancing with me at the dictionary disco?

Our first word is, “foundation.” It’s actually important for the plot that you know that word, the foundation of a building is the lowest part of it. It’s usually made of concrete, and it’s usually pretty deep underground, especially in the USA where houses have basements.

The second word is: “hackles,” as in “the hackles on his neck rose.” The hackles are the little hairs on an animals back and neck that, well, rise when it gets angry or….scared. Like when a cat is gonna hiss at someone. You know that feeling, when something is just wrong or weird. You can feel it on the back of your neck. Spooooky!

How about we pause for a melody moment?

I’d like to talk about voicing. Voiced and unvoiced consonants are exactly the same, except that when you say a voiced sound, you vibrate your throat. So like for example, the difference between “t” and “d.” When you say them, your face is exactly the same, except that when you say the “D” you kind of bzzzzzz vibrate your throat. So, “d” is voiced, “t” is unvoiced. For example, “tear” and “dear.” Say them. You can touch your neck and feel the difference.

Let’s try a little tiny quiz. “Bear” and “Pear.” Which one has the voiced sound at the beginning? Say them. Touch your neck.

Yup, it’s Bear. A “P” and “B” make the same sound, except that the “B” is….voiced.

Let’s go to the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 2 Episode 1 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

If you like the show, tell someone about it! A recommendation from a friend is the best way to get someone to listen, and I would really appreciate it.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part Two: Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter X: In Which Christopher Robin Gives Pooh a Party, and We Say Goodbye

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 19 Oct 2022 22:30:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 12

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:54 and the tiny lessons begin at 13:40

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. You can get the Podcast User’s Manual, with lots of ideas for self-study. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy.

Oh my goodness, this is the end of season one, the end of Winnie-the-Pooh. Well the first book at least. I’ll talk more after the story about what’s coming in season two, but for now, there is a LOT of Christopher Robin in this story, so….are you ready, Tabatha?

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter X

In Which Christopher Robin Gives Pooh a Party, and We Say Goodbye

Part 2

When they had all nearly eaten enough, Christopher Robin banged on the table with his spoon, and everybody stopped talking and was very silent, except Roo who was just finishing a loud attack of hiccups and trying to look as if it was one of Rabbit’s relations.

“This party,” said Christopher Robin, “is a party because of what someone did, and we all know who it was, and it’s his party, because of what he did, and I’ve got a present for him and here it is.” Then he felt about a little and whispered, “Where is it?”

While he was looking, Eeyore coughed in an impressive way and began to speak.

“Friends,” he said, “including oddments, it is a great pleasure, or perhaps I had better say it has been a pleasure so far, to see you at my party. What I did was nothing. Any of you⁠—except Rabbit and Owl and Kanga⁠—would have done the same. Oh, and Pooh. My remarks do not, of course, apply to Piglet and Roo, because they are too small. Any of you would have done the same. But it just happened to be Me. It was not, I need hardly say, with an idea of getting what Christopher Robin is looking for now”⁠—and he put his front leg to his mouth and said in a loud whisper, “Try under the table”⁠—“that I did what I did⁠—but because I feel that we should all do what we can to help. I feel that we should all⁠—”

“H⁠—hup!” said Roo accidentally.

“Roo, dear!” said Kanga reproachfully.

“Was it me?” asked Roo, a little surprised.

“What’s Eeyore talking about?” Piglet whispered to Pooh.

“I don’t know,” said Pooh rather dolefully.

“I thought this was your party.”

“I thought it was once. But I suppose it isn’t.”

“I’d sooner it was yours than Eeyore’s,” said Piglet.

“So would I,” said Pooh.

“H⁠—hup!” said Roo again.

“As⁠—I⁠—was⁠—saying,” said Eeyore loudly and sternly, “as I was saying when I was interrupted by various Loud Sounds, I feel that⁠—”

“Here it is!” cried Christopher Robin excitedly. “Pass it down to silly old Pooh. It’s for Pooh.”

“For Pooh?” said Eeyore.

“Of course it is. The best bear in all the world.”

“I might have known,” said Eeyore. “After all, one can’t complain. I have my friends. Somebody spoke to me only yesterday. And was it last week or the week before that Rabbit bumped into me and said ‘Bother!’ The Social Round. Always something going on.”

Nobody was listening, for they were all saying “Open it, Pooh,” “What is it, Pooh?” “I know what it is,” “No, you don’t” and other helpful remarks of this sort. And of course Pooh was opening it as quickly as ever he could, but without cutting the string, because you never know when a bit of string might be Useful. At last it was undone.

When Pooh saw what it was, he nearly fell down, he was so pleased. It was a Special Pencil Case. There were pencils in it marked “B” for Bear, and pencils marked “HB” for Helping Bear, and pencils marked “BB” for Brave Bear. There was a knife for sharpening the pencils, and india-rubber for rubbing out anything which you had spelt wrong, and a ruler for ruling lines for the words to walk on, and inches marked on the ruler in case you wanted to know how many inches anything was, and Blue Pencils and Red Pencils and Green Pencils for saying special things in blue and red and green. And all these lovely things were in little pockets of their own in a Special Case which shut with a click when you clicked it. And they were all for Pooh.

“Oh!” said Pooh.

“Oh, Pooh!” said everybody else except Eeyore.

“Thank you,” growled Pooh.

But Eeyore was saying to himself, “This writing business. Pencils and whatnot. Overrated, if you ask me. Silly stuff. Nothing in it.”

Later on, when they had all said “Goodbye” and “Thank you” to Christopher Robin, Pooh and Piglet walked home thoughtfully together in the golden evening, and for a long time they were silent.

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?”

“What’s for breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”

“I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet.

Pooh nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s the same thing,” he said.

“And what did happen?” asked Christopher Robin.

“When?”

“Next morning.”

“I don’t know.”

“Could you think and tell me and Pooh some time?”

“If you wanted it very much.”

“Pooh does,” said Christopher Robin.

He gave a deep sigh, picked his bear up by the leg and walked off to the door, trailing Winnie-the-Pooh behind him. At the door he turned and said “Coming to see me have my bath?”

“I might,” I said.

“Was Pooh’s pencil case any better than mine?”

“It was just the same,” I said.

He nodded and went out⁠ ⁠… and in a moment I heard Winnie-the-Pooh⁠—bump, bump, bump⁠—going up the stairs behind him.

And that is the end of the book. I’m actually having a lot of feelings right now. It took me about six months of preparation and practice to begin this podcast, and I always knew that I would read Winnie-the-Pooh to first. But I wasn’t sure what I would do after that. And now, here we are, at the end. It’s time to take a bath and put Edward Bear and Christopher Robin to bed.

Like I always say in the credits, all the stories I read are in the public domain, which means that the copyright has expired on them. So far, only the first Winnie-the-pooh book is in the public domain, so I can’t continue with those stories. Not until next year, anyway. It’s actually pretty interesting legal stuff, and you can google it yourself, if you want to.

Anyway, I’ve decided that for season two of A Little English, we are gonna do something different. We’re going to read some pretty weird science fiction stories by another one of my favorite authors, Philip K Dick. And since Halloween is coming up, we are gonna start with a spooky one, called The Hanging Stranger. These stories are also public domain, but they come from the 1950s and 60s, so I hope the language will be a little easier to understand.

Phil Dick’s stories are very different from AA Milne’s and I am super excited to get started. I hope you’re gonna come along for the ride.

Anyway, let’s do some tiny lessons!

How is the Big Picture looking tonight?

I just have one question: why was it so important that Pooh got a pencil case as a present? There are a few answers, but I think the best one is that it’s exactly the same case as Christopher Robin-the real Christopher Robin- had. So the two best friends can write together.

What about a dance at the Dictionary Disco?

There are two absolutely beastly adverbs in this story, and they’re right near each other.

First Kanga speaks reproachfully. Whoa. Long word. Well. “Reproach” means to scold someone or speak with them like a mom to a kid. Like Kanga does….a lot. So reproachFULLY means to talk to someone….like……you are their Mom. And you just caught them doing something naughty.

Right afterwards, Pooh speaks dolefully. I don’t think that you can be “dole.’ But you can be “doleful.” Full of dole? No. Doleful means sad or kinda depressed. So speaking “dolefully” is just a fancy 1926 way of saying “sadly.”

How about Season One’s final Melody Moment?

Actually I don’t have a new lesson for today. It’s the end of Season One, and I want to review. If you go all the way back to episode one, I talk about the Boots and Cats of English. That’s just another way to say the rhythm. Rhythm is incredibly important for spoken English. Actually, I think it’s the MOST important thing in speaking and listening to English. It’s created by having strong and weak syllables. Strong syllables generally sound like the way they are written. And weak syllables are made weak by reducing the vowel sound into a schwa. Or sometimes another sound, like the schwi. That’s it. That’s the key to sounding great in spoken English. Change about half your vowel sounds to schwas. So instead of O or A, you just say a little tiny….uh.

DOn’t worry, I’ll talk a LOT more about this.

Let’s go to the credits!

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 12 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter.

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes.

If you want to support this podcast, you can go to patreon.com/alittleenglish. If you do, you can join a private discord server for patrons, and you can chat with me. Ask me questions! Maybe I can help you with your homework! Maybe :)

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part One: Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter X: In Which Christopher Robin Gives Pooh a Party, and We Say Goodbye

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 12 Oct 2022 23:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 11

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 2:20 and the tiny lessons begin at 13:54

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

Well. We have come to the last chapter of the book. I’m going to split it into two parts again, just like last one. I think it’s kinda nice to keep the episodes a little shorter. Feel free to give me some feedback at contact@alittleenglish.com. But this is pretty emotional for me, because this book was a big part of my childhood, and I have had the chance to relive it with you though this podcast. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have. And, of course, since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). Oh, and you get to hear me sing….quite a bit in this episode. Enjoy

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter X

In Which Christopher Robin Gives Pooh a Party, and We Say Goodbye

One day when the sun had come back over the Forest, bringing with it the scent of May, and all the streams of the Forest were tinkling happily to find themselves their own pretty shape again, and the little pools lay dreaming of the life they had seen and the big things they had done, and in the warmth and quiet of the Forest the cuckoo was trying over his voice carefully and listening to see if he liked it, and wood-pigeons were complaining gently to themselves in their lazy comfortable way that it was the other fellow’s fault, but it didn’t matter very much; on such a day as this Christopher Robin whistled in a special way he had, and Owl came flying out of the Hundred Acre Wood to see what was wanted.

“Owl,” said Christopher Robin, “I am going to give a party.”

“You are, are you?” said Owl.

“And it’s to be a special sort of party, because it’s because of what Pooh did when he did what he did to save Piglet from the flood.”

“Oh, that’s what it’s for, is it?” said Owl.

“Yes, so will you tell Pooh as quickly as you can, and all the others, because it will be tomorrow.”

“Oh, it will, will it?” said Owl, still being as helpful as possible.

“So will you go and tell them, Owl?”

Owl tried to think of something very wise to say, but couldn’t, so he flew off to tell the others. And the first person he told was Pooh.

“Pooh,” he said, “Christopher Robin is giving a party.”

“Oh!” said Pooh. And then seeing that Owl expected him to say something else, he said “Will there be those little cake things with pink sugar icing?”

Owl felt that it was rather beneath him to talk about little cake things with pink sugar icing, so he told Pooh exactly what Christopher Robin had said, and flew off to Eeyore.

“A party for Me?” thought Pooh to himself. “How grand!” And he began to wonder if all the other animals would know that it was a special Pooh Party, and if Christopher Robin had told them about The Floating Bear and the Brain of Pooh and all the wonderful ships he had invented and sailed on, and he began to think how awful it would be if everybody had forgotten about it, and nobody quite knew what the party was for; and the more he thought like this, the more the party got muddled in his mind, like a dream when nothing goes right. And the dream began to sing itself over in his head until it became a sort of song. It was an

Anxious Pooh Song

3 Cheers for Pooh!

(For Who?)

For Pooh⁠—

(Why what did he do?)

I thought you knew;

He saved his friend from a wetting!

3 Cheers for Bear!

(For where?)

For Bear⁠—

He couldn’t swim,

But he rescued him!

(He rescued who?)

Oh, listen, do!

I am talking of Pooh⁠—

(Of who?)

Of Pooh!

(I’m sorry I keep forgetting).

Well, Pooh was a Bear of Enormous Brain

(Just say it again!)

Of enormous brain⁠—

(Of enormous what?)

Well, he ate a lot,

And I don’t know if he could swim or not,

But he managed to float

On a sort of boat

(On a sort of what?)

Well, a sort of pot⁠—

So now let’s give him three hearty cheers

(So now let’s give him three hearty whiches?)

And hope he’ll be with us for years and years,

And grow in health and wisdom and riches!

3 Cheers for Pooh!

(For who?)

For Pooh⁠—

3 Cheers for Bear!

(For where?)

For Bear⁠—

3 Cheers for the wonderful Winnie-the-Pooh!

(Just tell me, somebody⁠—what did he do?)

While this was going on inside him, Owl was talking to Eeyore.

“Eeyore,” said Owl, “Christopher Robin is giving a party.”

“Very interesting,” said Eeyore. “I suppose they will be sending me down the odd bits which got trodden on. Kind and Thoughtful. Not at all, don’t mention it.”

“There is an Invitation for you.”

“What’s that like?”

“An Invitation!”

“Yes, I heard you. Who dropped it?”

“This isn’t anything to eat, it’s asking you to the party. Tomorrow.”

Eeyore shook his head slowly.

“You mean Piglet. The little fellow with the excited ears. That’s Piglet. I’ll tell him.”

“No, no!” said Owl, getting quite fussy. “It’s you!”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Christopher Robin said ‘All of them! Tell all of them.’ ”

“All of them, except Eeyore?”

“All of them,” said Owl sulkily.

“Ah!” said Eeyore. “A mistake, no doubt, but still, I shall come. Only don’t blame me if it rains.”

But it didn’t rain. Christopher Robin had made a long table out of some long pieces of wood, and they all sat round it. Christopher Robin sat at one end, and Pooh sat at the other, and between them on one side were Owl and Eeyore and Piglet, and between them on the other side were Rabbit, and Roo and Kanga. And all Rabbit’s friends and relations spread themselves about on the grass, and waited hopefully in case anybody spoke to them, or dropped anything, or asked them the time.

It was the first party to which Roo had ever been, and he was very excited. As soon as ever they had sat down he began to talk.

“Hallo, Pooh!” he squeaked.

“Hallo, Roo!” said Pooh.

Roo jumped up and down in his seat for a little while and then began again.

“Hallo, Piglet!” he squeaked.

Piglet waved a paw at him, being too busy to say anything.

“Hallo, Eeyore!” said Roo.

Eeyore nodded gloomily at him. “It will rain soon, you see if it doesn’t,” he said.

Roo looked to see if it didn’t, and it didn’t, so he said “Hallo, Owl!”⁠—and Owl said “Hallo, my little fellow,” in a kindly way, and went on telling Christopher Robin about an accident which had nearly happened to a friend of his whom Christopher Robin didn’t know, and Kanga said to Roo, “Drink up your milk first, dear, and talk afterwards.” So Roo, who was drinking his milk, tried to say that he could do both at once⁠ ⁠… and had to be patted on the back and dried for quite a long time afterwards.

And that’s where we will leave it for this episode.

I don’t want to stop reading pooh stories. I’m having a lot of fun. Unfortunately, the big Mouse still controls the rest of the old books.

But I promise, I’ll have something cool for you in season two.

—----

Let’s do some tiny lessons.

First, we’ll observe the Big Picture

I guess the biggest question I can ask is, why is Pooh anxious about the party? After all, he sings a song called Anxious Pooh Song. My best guess is that he’s really proud of what he did during the flood, and he is nervous that he won’t get recognized for it. Or that people would forget. Think about the song. It’s all about ”Let’s celebrate Pooh!” and people answer….”Who?” He just wants some recognition.

Now, let’s shake it on down to the Dictionary Disco

Let’s do….not a phrasal verb but a…phrasal adjective? “Beneath Him,” as in Owl thinking that cupcakes are Beneath him. Yes, it could mean literally like BELOW him. But it’s more talking about his position or his dignity. Like he’s too good for it. Owl is a fancy boy.

The second vocabulary word is, Fussy. Owl is a fussy fellow. Fussy means that you are very worried about things being perfect or correct. That you’re hard to please.

Like Owl.

Finally, we will pause for a Melody Moment.

I’ve spent most of this season talking about schwas and word stress, so why stop now? Let;s talk about these two sentences from the song:

On a sort of what?

Well, a sort of pot

The last words in both lines, “What” and “pot.” What vowel sounds do they use? And what vowel spellings do they use?

What has an A. But guess what? Strong schwa. It’s an Uhh. But a strong one, because it’s important in the sentence.

Pot is spelled with an O. But it has an “ah” sound. Try it yourself. “Pot.” It’s “Ah.”

Spelling! Pronunciation!

Let’s go to the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 11 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter.

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes.

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part Two: Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter IX: In Which Piglet is Entirely Surrounded by Water

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 05 Oct 2022 22:30:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 10

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 2:30 and the tiny lessons begin at 14:25

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

ALE S01E09

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s read a story. TToday we are reading the second part of chapter nine of Winnie-the-Pooh. Do you remember what happened last time? Well, there was a flood. Piglet was kind of….freaking out…so he made a message in a bottle. Pooh found the message, but couldn’t read it. So he took his….boat….-which was really just a floating honey pot- to find Christopher Robin. And, of course, since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this).

Christopher Robin lived at the very top of the Forest. It rained, and it rained, and it rained, but the water couldn’t come up to his house. It was rather jolly to look down into the valleys and see the water all round him, but it rained so hard that he stayed indoors most of the time, and thought about things. Every morning he went out with his umbrella and put a stick in the place where the water came up to, and every next morning he went out and couldn’t see his stick any more, so he put another stick in the place where the water came up to, and then he walked home again, and each morning he had a shorter way to walk than he had had the morning before. On the morning of the fifth day he saw the water all round him, and knew that for the first time in his life he was on a real island. Which was very exciting.

It was on this morning that Owl came flying over the water to say “How do you do,” to his friend Christopher Robin.

“I say, Owl,” said Christopher Robin, “isn’t this fun? I’m on an island!”

“The atmospheric conditions have been very unfavourable lately,” said Owl.

“The what?”

“It has been raining,” explained Owl.

“Yes,” said Christopher Robin. “It has.”

“The flood-level has reached an unprecedented height.”

“The who?”

“There’s a lot of water about,” explained Owl.

“Yes,” said Christopher Robin, “there is.”

“However, the prospects are rapidly becoming more favourable. At any moment⁠—”

“Have you seen Pooh?”

“No. At any moment⁠—”

“I hope he’s all right,” said Christopher Robin. “I’ve been wondering about him. I expect Piglet’s with him. Do you think they’re all right, Owl?”

“I expect so. You see, at any moment⁠—”

“Do go and see, Owl. Because Pooh hasn’t got very much brain, and he might do something silly, and I do love him so, Owl. Do you see, Owl?”

“That’s all right,” said Owl. “I’ll go. Back directly.” And he flew off.

In a little while he was back again.

“Pooh isn’t there,” he said.

“Not there?”

“Has been there. He’s been sitting on a branch of his tree outside his house with nine pots of honey. But he isn’t there now.”

“Oh, Pooh!” cried Christopher Robin. “Where are you?”

“Here I am,” said a growly voice behind him.

“Pooh!”

They rushed into each other’s arms.

“How did you get here, Pooh?” asked Christopher Robin, when he was ready to talk again.

“On my boat,” said Pooh proudly. “I had a Very Important Missage sent me in a bottle, and owing to having got some water in my eyes, I couldn’t read it, so I brought it to you. On my boat.”

With these proud words he gave Christopher Robin the missage.

“But it’s from Piglet!” cried Christopher Robin when he had read it.

“Isn’t there anything about Pooh in it?” asked Bear, looking over his shoulder.

Christopher Robin read the message aloud.

“Oh, are those P’s Piglets? I thought they were Poohs.”

“We must rescue him at once! I thought he was with you, Pooh. Owl, could you rescue him on your back?”

“I don’t think so,” said Owl, after grave thought. “It is doubtful if the necessary dorsal muscles⁠—”

“Then would you fly to him at once and say that Rescue is Coming? And Pooh and I will think of a Rescue and come as quick as ever we can. Oh, don’t talk, Owl, go on quick!” And, still thinking of something to say, Owl flew off.

“Now then, Pooh,” said Christopher Robin, “where’s your boat?”

“I ought to say,” explained Pooh as they walked down to the shore of the island, “that it isn’t just an ordinary sort of boat. Sometimes it’s a Boat, and sometimes it’s more of an Accident. It all depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“On whether I’m on the top of it or underneath it.”

“Oh! Well, where is it?”

“There!” said Pooh, pointing proudly to The Floating Bear.

It wasn’t what Christopher Robin expected, and the more he looked at it, the more he thought what a Brave and Clever Bear Pooh was, and the more Christopher Robin thought this, the more Pooh looked modestly down his nose and tried to pretend he wasn’t.

“But it’s too small for two of us,” said Christopher Robin sadly.

“Three of us with Piglet.”

“That makes it smaller still. Oh, Pooh Bear, what shall we do?”

And then this Bear, Pooh Bear, Winnie-the-Pooh, F.O.P. (Friend of Piglet’s), R.C. (Rabbit’s Companion), P.D. (Pole Discoverer), E.C. and T.F. (Eeyore’s Comforter and Tail-finder)⁠—in fact, Pooh himself⁠—said something so clever that Christopher Robin could only look at him with mouth open and eyes staring, wondering if this was really the Bear of Very Little Brain whom he had known and loved so long.

“We might go in your umbrella,” said Pooh.

“?”

“We might go in your umbrella,” said Pooh.

“??”

“We might go in your umbrella,” said Pooh.

“!!!!!!”

For suddenly Christopher Robin saw that they might. He opened his umbrella and put it point downwards in the water. It floated but wobbled. Pooh got in. He was just beginning to say that it was all right now, when he found that it wasn’t, so after a short drink which he didn’t really want he waded back to Christopher Robin. Then they both got in together, and it wobbled no longer.

“I shall call this boat The Brain of Pooh,” said Christopher Robin, and The Brain of Pooh set sail forthwith in a southwesterly direction, revolving gracefully.

You can imagine Piglet’s joy when at last the ship came in sight of him. In after-years he liked to think that he had been in Very Great Danger during the Terrible Flood, but the only danger he had really been in was in the last half-hour of his imprisonment, when Owl, who had just flown up, sat on a branch of his tree to comfort him, and told him a very long story about an aunt who had once laid a seagull’s egg by mistake, and the story went on and on, rather like this sentence, until Piglet who was listening out of his window without much hope, went to sleep quietly and naturally, slipping slowly out of the window towards the water until he was only hanging on by his toes, at which moment luckily, a sudden loud squawk from Owl, which was really part of the story, being what his aunt said, woke the Piglet up and just gave him time to jerk himself back into safety and say, “How interesting, and did she?” when⁠—well, you can imagine his joy when at last he saw the good ship, The Brain of Pooh (Captain, C. Robin; 1st Mate, P. Bear) coming over the sea to rescue him. Christopher Robin and Pooh again.⁠ ⁠…

And that is really the end of the story, and I am very tired after that last sentence, I think I shall stop there.

That really is how the story ends.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how, when I was a kid, Pooh was just the coolest to me. Which is funny, because he’s kind of, like, not….smart. But he is loyal and he tries really hard, and in the end, what else could you ask for from a friend?

What’s the Big Picture Looking like?

It’s pretty good. Everything turns out OK in the end. So…..how did they do it? Last time, I asked you to predict how they would rescue Piglet. Did you guess that Pooh and Christopher Robin would float over in an umbrella and get him? Yeah, I bet you did.

When I was a kid, I tried to do this. Use an umbrella like a boat to go floating away. Except in my case, it was just in a puddle, and I broke the umbrella. My parents were very, very patient people.

How about a little vocab party at the dictionary Disco?

The first word I want to talk about is…Missage. Which is….not a word. It’s just Pooh being…well himself, I guess.

So let’s talk about “Jolly” Jolly is happy! Think like Santa Claus. So christopher Robin thinks it’s FUN to see a flood coming up around him.

The second vocabulary word for today is “unprecedented.” So a “precedent” is a fancy way of saying something that has happened before now. So, an “unprecedented” flood level is the highest it’s ever been. Not so jolly, really.

Today’s melody moment is talking about a sound inside a word. I’m talking about “FLOOD.” Listen to the word. There are two O’s in it. F-L-O-O-D So it should sound like my name…Cooper. But it doesn’t. The sound the two O’s make is….UH. Sounds like our old friend the Schwa, but it’s not. There is a big difference. It’s not tiny. It’s strong and powerful. Actually this sound is called….a strong schwa. And since “Flood” is one of the really important words in a sentence - not like “a” or “the” - it’s strong. It’s not a schwa, because schwas are pretty much only for….stuff that doesn’t matter. A flood…matters.

Let’s go to the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 10 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter.

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes.

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Part One: Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter IX: In Which Piglet is Entirely Surrounded by Water

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 28 Sep 2022 22:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 9

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 02:00 and the tiny lessons begin at 15:30

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

ALE S01E09

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Nine of Winnie-the-Pooh. I asked some of my students for feedback on the show so far, and they said that the episodes are kind of long. So we are gonna try splitting this story into two episodes. After all, it is supposed to be…a LITTLE English. Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this).

In Which Piglet Is Entirely Surrounded by Water

It rained and it rained and it rained. Piglet told himself that never in all his life, and he was goodness knows how old⁠—three, was it, or four?⁠—never had he seen so much rain. Days and days and days.

“If only,” he thought, as he looked out of the window, “I had been in Pooh’s house, or Christopher Robin’s house, or Rabbit’s house when it began to rain, then I should have had Company all this time, instead of being here all alone, with nothing to do except wonder when it will stop.” And he imagined himself with Pooh, saying, “Did you ever see such rain, Pooh?” and Pooh saying, “Isn’t it awful, Piglet?” and Piglet saying, “I wonder how it is over Christopher Robin’s way” and Pooh saying, “I should think poor old Rabbit is about flooded out by this time.” It would have been jolly to talk like this, and really, it wasn’t much good having anything exciting like floods, if you couldn’t share them with somebody.

For it was rather exciting. The little dry ditches in which Piglet had nosed about so often had become streams, the little streams across which he had splashed were rivers, and the river, between whose steep banks they had played so happily, had sprawled out of its own bed and was taking up so much room everywhere, that Piglet was beginning to wonder whether it would be coming into his bed soon.

“It’s a little Anxious,” he said to himself, “to be a Very Small Animal Entirely Surrounded by Water. Christopher Robin and Pooh could escape by Climbing Trees, and Kanga could escape by Jumping, and Rabbit could escape by Burrowing, and Owl could escape by Flying, and Eeyore could escape by⁠—by Making a Loud Noise Until Rescued, and here am I, surrounded by water and I can’t do anything.”

It went on raining, and every day the water got a little higher, until now it was nearly up to Piglet’s window⁠ ⁠… and still he hadn’t done anything.

“There’s Pooh,” he thought to himself. “Pooh hasn’t much Brain, but he never comes to any harm. He does silly things and they turn out right. There’s Owl. Owl hasn’t exactly got Brain, but he Knows Things. He would know the Right Thing to Do when Surrounded by Water. There’s Rabbit. He hasn’t Learnt in Books, but he can always Think of a Clever Plan. There’s Kanga. She isn’t Clever, Kanga isn’t, but she would be so anxious about Roo that she would do a Good Thing to Do without thinking about It. And then there’s Eeyore. And Eeyore is so miserable anyhow that he wouldn’t mind about this. But I wonder what Christopher Robin would do?”

Then suddenly he remembered a story which Christopher Robin had told him about a man on a desert island who had written something in a bottle and thrown it in the sea; and Piglet thought that if he wrote something in a bottle and threw it in the water, perhaps somebody would come and rescue him!

He left the window and began to search his house, all of it that wasn’t under water, and at last he found a pencil and a small piece of dry paper, and a bottle with a cork to it. And he wrote on one side of the paper:

help!

piglet (me)

and on the other side:

it’s me piglet, help help.

Then he put the paper in the bottle, and he corked the bottle up as tightly as he could, and he leant out of his window as far as he could lean without falling in, and he threw the bottle as far as he could throw⁠—splash!⁠—and in a little while it bobbed up again on the water; and he watched it floating slowly away in the distance, until his eyes ached with looking, and sometimes he thought it was the bottle, and sometimes he thought it was just a ripple on the water which he was following, and then suddenly he knew that he would never see it again and that he had done all that he could do to save himself.

“So now,” he thought, “somebody else will have to do something, and I hope they will do it soon, because if they don’t I shall have to swim, which I can’t, so I hope they do it soon.” And then he gave a very long sigh and said, “I wish Pooh were here. It’s so much more friendly with two.”

When the rain began Pooh was asleep. It rained, and it rained, and it rained, and he slept and he slept and he slept. He had had a tiring day. You remember how he discovered the North Pole; well, he was so proud of this that he asked Christopher Robin if there were any other Poles such as a Bear of Little Brain might discover.

“There’s a South Pole,” said Christopher Robin, “and I expect there’s an East Pole and a West Pole, though people don’t like talking about them.”

Pooh was very excited when he heard this, and suggested that they should have an Expotition to discover the East Pole, but Christopher Robin had thought of something else to do with Kanga; so Pooh went out to discover the East Pole by himself. Whether he discovered it or not, I forget; but he was so tired when he got home that, in the very middle of his supper, after he had been eating for little more than half-an-hour, he fell fast asleep in his chair, and slept and slept and slept.

Then suddenly he was dreaming. He was at the East Pole, and it was a very cold pole with the coldest sort of snow and ice all over it. He had found a beehive to sleep in, but there wasn’t room for his legs, so he had left them outside. And Wild Woozles, such as inhabit the East Pole, came and nibbled all the fur off his legs to make nests for their Young. And the more they nibbled, the colder his legs got, until suddenly he woke up with an Ow!⁠—and there he was, sitting in his chair with his feet in the water, and water all round him!

He splashed to his door and looked out.⁠ ⁠…

“This is Serious,” said Pooh. “I must have an Escape.”

So he took his largest pot of honey and escaped with it to a broad branch of his tree, well above the water, and then he climbed down again and escaped with another pot⁠ ⁠… and when the whole Escape was finished, there was Pooh sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and there, beside him, were ten pots of honey.⁠ ⁠…

Two days later, there was Pooh, sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and there, beside him, were four pots of honey.⁠ ⁠…

Three days later, there was Pooh, sitting on his branch, dangling his legs, and there beside him, was one pot of honey.

Four days later, there was Pooh⁠ ⁠…

And it was on the morning of the fourth day that Piglet’s bottle came floating past him, and with one loud cry of “Honey!” Pooh plunged into the water, seized the bottle, and struggled back to his tree again.

“Bother!” said Pooh, as he opened it. “All that wet for nothing. What’s that bit of paper doing?”

He took it out and looked at it.

“It’s a Missage,” he said to himself, “that’s what it is. And that letter is a P, and so is that, and so is that, and P means ‘Pooh,’ so it’s a very important Missage to me, and I can’t read it. I must find Christopher Robin or Owl or Piglet, one of those Clever Readers who can read things, and they will tell me what this missage means. Only I can’t swim. Bother!”

Then he had an idea, and I think that for a Bear of Very Little Brain, it was a good idea. He said to himself:

“If a bottle can float, then a jar can float, and if a jar floats, I can sit on the top of it, if it’s a very big jar.”

So he took his biggest jar, and corked it up. “All boats have to have a name,” he said, “so I shall call mine The Floating Bear.” And with these words he dropped his boat into the water and jumped in after it.

For a little while Pooh and The Floating Bear were uncertain as to which of them was meant to be on the top, but after trying one or two different positions, they settled down with The Floating Bear underneath and Pooh triumphantly astride it, paddling vigorously with his feet.

And that is where we will pause the story until next week.

Well…

There is some real danger and scary stuff happening in this Children’s story.

This is kinda exciting.

Let’s do some tiny lessons

First, let’s see what we can see in the Big Picture

Since this is the first two-part story, let me ask you to make a prediction. What’s going to happen to piglet? Who do YOU think will rescue him, and how? Will he even BE rescued?

How about a boogie at the Dctionary Disco?

This week’s two words are right next to each other. Right at the end of the story. They’re…”Trimphantly astride.” Just a great phrase. Trimphantly….astride.

So Triumphantly means, like the winner. A triumph is a victory. So, sitting as though he had just won a battle. Which…..he had.

Astride. Tough one. Well, “Stride” is an old word for “step” and “A” means, like “On,” or “In” something. So it’s IN his step. Because he’s sitting on it. Like a horse. Except it’s a honey pot in the middle of a flood.

Finally, let’s share a Melody Moment.

There’s one thing I say that I think is really important. The sentence was, “and in a little while it bobbed up again on the water” Listen to how I say the first four words. un dinuh liddul. Undinnuh. Schwas again, right? And it almost sounds like the word un dinnuh. Like two words that don’t make any sense. But that’s english. Those words aren’t really important. They’re just little tiny grammar things. They’re not important for the STORY. So we kinda…push them away. That’s the secret to English Melody. The stuff that’s not important, it just gets smushed away.

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 9 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Edward Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter.

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes.

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter VIII: In Which Christopher Robin Leads an Expotition to the North Pole

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 21 Sep 2022 21:30:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 8

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 1:40 and the tiny lessons begin at 28:00

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

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TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Eight of Winnie-the-Pooh. We are getting to the end of the book! Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this).

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter VIII

In Which Christopher Robin Leads an Expotition to the North Pole

One fine day Pooh had stumped up to the top of the Forest to see if his friend Christopher Robin was interested in Bears at all. At breakfast that morning (a simple meal of marmalade spread lightly over a honeycomb or two) he had suddenly thought of a new song. It began like this:

“Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear!”

When he had got as far as this, he scratched his head, and thought to himself “That’s a very good start for a song, but what about the second line?” He tried singing “Ho,” two or three times, but it didn’t seem to help. “Perhaps it would be better,” he thought, “if I sang Hi for the life of a Bear.” So he sang it⁠ ⁠… but it wasn’t. “Very well, then,” he said, “I shall sing that first line twice, and perhaps if I sing it very quickly, I shall find myself singing the third and fourth lines before I have time to think of them, and that will be a Good Song. Now then:”

Sing Ho! for the life of a Bear!

I don’t much mind if it rains or snows,

’Cos I’ve got a lot of honey on my nice new nose,

I don’t much care if it snows or thaws,

’Cos I’ve got a lot of honey on my nice clean paws!

Sing Ho! for a Bear!

Sing Ho! for a Pooh!

And I’ll have a little something in an hour or two!

He was so pleased with this song that he sang it all the way to the top of the Forest, “and if I go on singing it much longer,” he thought, “it will be time for the little something, and then the last line won’t be true.” So he turned it into a hum instead.

Christopher Robin was sitting outside his door, putting on his Big Boots. As soon as he saw the Big Boots, Pooh knew that an Adventure was going to happen, and he brushed the honey off his nose with the back of his paw, and spruced himself up as well as he could, so as to look Ready for Anything.

“Good morning, Christopher Robin,” he called out.

“Hallo, Pooh Bear. I can’t get this boot on.”

“That’s bad,” said Pooh.

“Do you think you could very kindly lean against me, ’cos I keep pulling so hard that I fall over backwards.”

Pooh sat down, dug his feet into the ground, and pushed hard against Christopher Robin’s back, and Christopher Robin pushed hard against his, and pulled and pulled at his boot until he had got it on.

“And that’s that,” said Pooh. “What do we do next?”

“We are all going on an Expedition,” said Christopher Robin, as he got up and brushed himself. “Thank you, Pooh.”

“Going on an Expotition?” said Pooh eagerly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on one of those. Where are we going to on this Expotition?”

“Expedition, silly old Bear. It’s got an x in it.”

“Oh!” said Pooh. “I know.” But he didn’t really.

“We’re going to discover the North Pole.”

“Oh!” said Pooh again. “What is the North Pole?” he asked.

“It’s just a thing you discover,” said Christopher Robin carelessly, not being quite sure himself.

“Oh! I see,” said Pooh. “Are bears any good at discovering it?”

“Of course they are. And Rabbit and Kanga and all of you. It’s an Expedition. That’s what an Expedition means. A long line of everybody. You’d better tell the others to get ready, while I see if my gun’s all right. And we must all bring Provisions.”

“Bring what?”

“Things to eat.”

“Oh!” said Pooh happily. “I thought you said Provisions. I’ll go and tell them.” And he stumped off.

The first person he met was Rabbit.

“Hallo, Rabbit,” he said, “is that you?”

“Let’s pretend it isn’t,” said Rabbit, “and see what happens.”

“I’ve got a message for you.”

“I’ll give it to him.”

“We’re all going on an Expotition with Christopher Robin!”

“What is it when we’re on it?”

“A sort of boat, I think,” said Pooh.

“Oh! that sort.”

“Yes. And we’re going to discover a Pole or something. Or was it a Mole? Anyhow we’re going to discover it.”

“We are, are we?” said Rabbit.

“Yes. And we’ve got to bring Pro⁠—things to eat with us. In case we want to eat them. Now I’m going down to Piglet’s. Tell Kanga, will you?”

He left Rabbit and hurried down to Piglet’s house. The Piglet was sitting on the ground at the door of his house blowing happily at a dandelion, and wondering whether it would be this year, next year, sometime or never. He had just discovered that it would be never, and was trying to remember what “it” was, and hoping it wasn’t anything nice, when Pooh came up.

“Oh! Piglet,” said Pooh excitedly, “we’re going on an Expotition, all of us, with things to eat. To discover something.”

“To discover what?” said Piglet anxiously.

“Oh! just something.”

“Nothing fierce?”

“Christopher Robin didn’t say anything about fierce. He just said it had an x.”

“It isn’t their necks I mind,” said Piglet earnestly. “It’s their teeth. But if Christopher Robin is coming I don’t mind anything.”

In a little while they were all ready at the top of the Forest, and the Expotition started. First came Christopher Robin and Rabbit, then Piglet and Pooh; then Kanga, with Roo in her pocket, and Owl; then Eeyore; and, at the end, in a long line, all Rabbit’s friends-and-relations.

“I didn’t ask them,” explained Rabbit carelessly. “They just came. They always do. They can march at the end, after Eeyore.”

“What I say,” said Eeyore, “is that it’s unsettling. I didn’t want to come on this Expo⁠—what Pooh said. I only came to oblige. But here I am; and if I am the end of the Expo⁠—what we’re talking about⁠—then let me be the end. But if, every time I want to sit down for a little rest, I have to brush away half a dozen of Rabbit’s smaller friends-and-relations first, then this isn’t an Expo⁠—whatever it is⁠—at all, it’s simply a Confused Noise. That’s what I say.”

“I see what Eeyore means,” said Owl. “If you ask me⁠—”

“I’m not asking anybody,” said Eeyore. “I’m just telling everybody. We can look for the North Pole, or we can play ‘Here we go gathering Nuts and May’ with the end part of an ant’s nest. It’s all the same to me.”

There was a shout from the top of the line.

“Come on!” called Christopher Robin.

“Come on!” called Pooh and Piglet.

“Come on!” called Owl.

“We’re starting,” said Rabbit. “I must go.” And he hurried off to the front of the Expotition with Christopher Robin.

“All right,” said Eeyore. “We’re going. Only Don’t Blame Me.”

So off they all went to discover the Pole. And as they walked, they chattered to each other of this and that, all except Pooh, who was making up a song.

“This is the first verse,” he said to Piglet, when he was ready with it.

“First verse of what?”

“My song.”

“What song?”

“This one.”

“Which one?”

“Well, if you listen, Piglet, you’ll hear it.”

“How do you know I’m not listening?”

Pooh couldn’t answer that one, so he began to sing.

They all went off to discover the Pole,

Owl and Piglet and Rabbit and all;

It’s a Thing you Discover, as I’ve been tole

By Owl and Piglet and Rabbit and all.

Eeyore, Christopher Robin and Pooh

And Rabbit’s relations all went too⁠—

And where the Pole was none of them knew.⁠ ⁠…

Sing Hey! for Owl and Rabbit and all!

“Hush!” said Christopher Robin turning round to Pooh, “we’re just coming to a Dangerous Place.”

“Hush!” said Pooh turning round quickly to Piglet.

“Hush!” said Piglet to Kanga.

“Hush!” said Kanga to Owl, while Roo said “Hush!” several times to himself very quietly.

“Hush!” said Owl to Eeyore.

“Hush!” said Eeyore in a terrible voice to all Rabbit’s friends-and-relations, and “Hush!” they said hastily to each other all down the line, until it got to the last one of all. And the last and smallest friend-and-relation was so upset to find that the whole Expotition was saying “Hush!” to him, that he buried himself head downwards in a crack in the ground, and stayed there for two days until the danger was over, and then went home in a great hurry, and lived quietly with his Aunt ever-afterwards. His name was Alexander Beetle.

They had come to a stream which twisted and tumbled between high rocky banks, and Christopher Robin saw at once how dangerous it was.

“It’s just the place,” he explained, “for an Ambush.”

“What sort of bush?” whispered Pooh to Piglet. “A gorse-bush?”

“My dear Pooh,” said Owl in his superior way, “don’t you know what an Ambush is?”

“Owl,” said Piglet, looking round at him severely, “Pooh’s whisper was a perfectly private whisper, and there was no need⁠—”

“An Ambush,” said Owl, “is a sort of Surprise.”

“So is a gorse-bush sometimes,” said Pooh.

“An Ambush, as I was about to explain to Pooh,” said Piglet, “is a sort of Surprise.”

“If people jump out at you suddenly, that’s an Ambush,” said Owl.

“It’s an Ambush, Pooh, when people jump at you suddenly,” explained Piglet.

Pooh, who now knew what an Ambush was, said that a gorse-bush had sprung at him suddenly one day when he fell off a tree, and he had taken six days to get all the prickles out of himself.

“We are not talking about gorse-bushes,” said Owl a little crossly.

“I am,” said Pooh.

They were climbing very cautiously up the stream now, going from rock to rock, and after they had gone a little way they came to a place where the banks widened out at each side, so that on each side of the water there was a level strip of grass on which they could sit down and rest. As soon as he saw this, Christopher Robin called “Halt!” and they all sat down and rested.

“I think,” said Christopher Robin, “that we ought to eat all our Provisions now, so that we shan’t have so much to carry.”

“Eat all our what?” said Pooh.

“All that we’ve brought,” said Piglet, getting to work.

“That’s a good idea,” said Pooh, and he got to work too.

“Have you all got something?” asked Christopher Robin with his mouth full.

“All except me,” said Eeyore. “As Usual.” He looked round at them in his melancholy way. “I suppose none of you are sitting on a thistle by any chance?”

“I believe I am,” said Pooh. “Ow!” He got up, and looked behind him. “Yes, I was. I thought so.”

“Thank you, Pooh. If you’ve quite finished with it.” He moved across to Pooh’s place, and began to eat.

“It don’t do them any Good, you know, sitting on them,” he went on, as he looked up munching. “Takes all the Life out of them. Remember that another time, all of you. A little Consideration, a little Thought for Others, makes all the difference.”

As soon as he had finished his lunch Christopher Robin whispered to Rabbit, and Rabbit said “Yes, yes, of course,” and they walked a little way up the stream together.

“I didn’t want the others to hear,” said Christopher Robin.

“Quite so,” said Rabbit, looking important.

“It’s⁠—I wondered⁠—It’s only⁠—Rabbit, I suppose you don’t know, What does the North Pole look like?”

“Well,” said Rabbit, stroking his whiskers. “Now you’re asking me.”

“I did know once, only I’ve sort of forgotten,” said Christopher Robin carelessly.

“It’s a funny thing,” said Rabbit, “but I’ve sort of forgotten too, although I did know once.”

“I suppose it’s just a pole stuck in the ground?”

“Sure to be a pole,” said Rabbit, “because of calling it a pole, and if it’s a pole, well, I should think it would be sticking in the ground, shouldn’t you, because there’d be nowhere else to stick it.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought.”

“The only thing,” said Rabbit, “is, where is it sticking?”

“That’s what we’re looking for,” said Christopher Robin.

They went back to the others. Piglet was lying on his back, sleeping peacefully. Roo was washing his face and paws in the stream, while Kanga explained to everybody proudly that this was the first time he had ever washed his face himself, and Owl was telling Kanga an Interesting Anecdote full of long words like Encyclopaedia and Rhododendron to which Kanga wasn’t listening.

“I don’t hold with all this washing,” grumbled Eeyore. “This modern Behind-the-ears nonsense. What do you think, Pooh?”

“Well,” said Pooh, “I think⁠—”

But we shall never know what Pooh thought, for there came a sudden squeak from Roo, a splash, and a loud cry of alarm from Kanga.

“So much for washing,” said Eeyore.

“Roo’s fallen in!” cried Rabbit, and he and Christopher Robin came rushing down to the rescue.

“Look at me swimming!” squeaked Roo from the middle of his pool, and was hurried down a waterfall into the next pool.

“Are you all right, Roo dear?” called Kanga anxiously.

“Yes!” said Roo. “Look at me sw⁠—” and down he went over the next waterfall into another pool.

Everybody was doing something to help. Piglet, wide awake suddenly, was jumping up and down and making “Oo, I say” noises; Owl was explaining that in a case of Sudden and Temporary Immersion the Important Thing was to keep the Head Above Water; Kanga was jumping along the bank, saying “Are you sure you’re all right, Roo dear?” to which Roo, from whatever pool he was in at the moment, was answering “Look at me swimming!” Eeyore had turned round and hung his tail over the first pool into which Roo fell, and with his back to the accident was grumbling quietly to himself, and saying, “All this washing; but catch on to my tail, little Roo, and you’ll be all right”; and, Christopher Robin and Rabbit came hurrying past Eeyore, and were calling out to the others in front of them.

“All right, Roo, I’m coming,” called Christopher Robin.

“Get something across the stream lower down, some of you fellows,” called Rabbit.

But Pooh was getting something. Two pools below Roo he was standing with a long pole in his paws, and Kanga came up and took one end of it, and between them they held it across the lower part of the pool; and Roo, still bubbling proudly, “Look at me swimming,” drifted up against it, and climbed out.

“Did you see me swimming?” squeaked Roo excitedly, while Kanga scolded him and rubbed him down. “Pooh, did you see me swimming? That’s called swimming, what I was doing. Rabbit, did you see what I was doing? Swimming. Hallo, Piglet! I say, Piglet! What do you think I was doing! Swimming! Christopher Robin, did you see me⁠—”

But Christopher Robin wasn’t listening. He was looking at Pooh.

“Pooh,” he said, “where did you find that pole?”

Pooh looked at the pole in his hands.

“I just found it,” he said. “I thought it ought to be useful. I just picked it up.”

“Pooh,” said Christopher Robin solemnly, “the Expedition is over. You have found the North Pole!”

“Oh!” said Pooh.

Eeyore was sitting with his tail in the water when they all got back to him.

“Tell Roo to be quick, somebody,” he said. “My tail’s getting cold. I don’t want to mention it, but I just mention it. I don’t want to complain but there it is. My tail’s cold.”

“Here I am!” squeaked Roo.

“Oh, there you are.”

“Did you see me swimming?”

Eeyore took his tail out of the water, and swished it from side to side.

“As I expected,” he said. “Lost all feeling. Numbed it. That’s what it’s done. Numbed it. Well, as long as nobody minds, I suppose it’s all right.”

“Poor old Eeyore. I’ll dry it for you,” said Christopher Robin, and he took out his handkerchief and rubbed it up.

“Thank you, Christopher Robin. You’re the only one who seems to understand about tails. They don’t think⁠—that’s what the matter with some of these others. They’ve no imagination. A tail isn’t a tail to them, it’s just a Little Bit Extra at the back.”

“Never mind, Eeyore,” said Christopher Robin, rubbing his hardest. “Is that better?”

“It’s feeling more like a tail perhaps. It Belongs again, if you know what I mean.”

“Hullo, Eeyore,” said Pooh, coming up to them with his pole.

“Hullo, Pooh. Thank you for asking, but I shall be able to use it again in a day or two.”

“Use what?” said Pooh.

“What we are talking about.”

“I wasn’t talking about anything,” said Pooh, looking puzzled.

“My mistake again. I thought you were saying how sorry you were about my tail, being all numb, and could you do anything to help?”

“No,” said Pooh. “That wasn’t me,” he said. He thought for a little and then suggested...

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter VII: In Which Kanga and Baby Roo Come to the Forest, and Piglet Has a Bath

Edward Cooper Howland — Thu, 15 Sep 2022 00:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 7

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:50 and the tiny lessons begin at 30:08

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Seven of Winnie-the-Pooh. Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). In this story, we meet not one but TWO new characters, Kanga and her son Roo. And it’s interesting, the other animals are…actually kind of mean to them. How will it all work out? Let’s listen.

Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter VII

In Which Kanga and Baby Roo Come to the Forest, and Piglet Has a Bath

Nobody seemed to know where they came from, but there they were in the Forest: Kanga and Baby Roo. When Pooh asked Christopher Robin, “How did they come here?” Christopher Robin said, “In the Usual Way, if you know what I mean, Pooh,” and Pooh, who didn’t, said “Oh!” Then he nodded his head twice and said, “In the Usual Way. Ah!” Then he went to call upon his friend Piglet to see what he thought about it. And at Piglet’s house he found Rabbit. So they all talked about it together.

“What I don’t like about it is this,” said Rabbit. “Here are we⁠—you, Pooh, and you, Piglet, and Me⁠—and suddenly⁠—”

“And Eeyore,” said Pooh.

“And Eeyore⁠—and then suddenly⁠—”

“And Owl,” said Pooh.

“And Owl⁠—and then all of a sudden⁠—”

“Oh, and Eeyore,” said Pooh. “I was forgetting him.”

“Here⁠—we⁠—are,” said Rabbit very slowly and carefully, “all⁠—of⁠—us, and then, suddenly, we wake up one morning and, what do we find? We find a Strange Animal among us. An animal of whom we have never even heard before! An animal who carries her family about with her in her pocket! Suppose I carried my family about with me in my pocket, how many pockets should I want?”

“Sixteen,” said Piglet.

“Seventeen, isn’t it?” said Rabbit. “And one more for a handkerchief⁠—that’s eighteen. Eighteen pockets in one suit! I haven’t time.”

There was a long and thoughtful silence⁠ ⁠… and then Pooh, who had been frowning very hard for some minutes, said: “I make it fifteen.”

“What?” said Rabbit.

“Fifteen.”

“Fifteen what?”

“Your family.”

“What about them?”

Pooh rubbed his nose and said that he thought Rabbit had been talking about his family.

“Did I?” said Rabbit carelessly.

“Yes, you said⁠—”

“Never mind, Pooh,” said Piglet impatiently.

“The question is, What are we to do about Kanga?”

“Oh, I see,” said Pooh.

“The best way,” said Rabbit, “would be this. The best way would be to steal Baby Roo and hide him, and then when Kanga says, ‘Where’s Baby Roo?’ we say, ‘Aha!’ ”

“Aha!” said Pooh, practising. “Aha! Aha!⁠ ⁠… Of course,” he went on, “we could say ‘Aha!’ even if we hadn’t stolen Baby Roo.”

“Pooh,” said Rabbit kindly, “you haven’t any brain.”

“I know,” said Pooh humbly.

“We say ‘Aha!’ so that Kanga knows that we know where Baby Roo is. ‘Aha!’ means ‘We’ll tell you where Baby Roo is, if you promise to go away from the Forest and never come back.’ Now don’t talk while I think.”

Pooh went into a corner and tried saying “Aha!” in that sort of voice. Sometimes it seemed to him that it did mean what Rabbit said, and sometimes it seemed to him that it didn’t. “I suppose it’s just practice,” he thought. “I wonder if Kanga will have to practise too so as to understand it.”

“There’s just one thing,” said Piglet, fidgeting a bit. “I was talking to Christopher Robin, and he said that a Kanga was Generally Regarded as One of the Fiercer Animals. I am not frightened of Fierce Animals in the ordinary way, but it is well known that, if One of the Fiercer Animals is Deprived of Its Young, it becomes as fierce as Two of the Fiercer Animals. In which case ‘Aha!’ is perhaps a foolish thing to say.”

“Piglet,” said Rabbit, taking out a pencil, and licking the end of it, “you haven’t any pluck.”

“It is hard to be brave,” said Piglet, sniffing slightly, “when you’re only a Very Small Animal.”

Rabbit, who had begun to write very busily, looked up and said:

“It is because you are a very small animal that you will be Useful in the adventure before us.”

Piglet was so excited at the idea of being Useful that he forgot to be frightened any more, and when Rabbit went on to say that Kangas were only Fierce during the winter months, being at other times of an Affectionate Disposition, he could hardly sit still, he was so eager to begin being useful at once.

“What about me?” said Pooh sadly. “I suppose I shan’t be useful?”

“Never mind, Pooh,” said Piglet comfortingly. “Another time perhaps.”

“Without Pooh,” said Rabbit solemnly as he sharpened his pencil, “the adventure would be impossible.”

“Oh!” said Piglet, and tried not to look disappointed. But Pooh went into a corner of the room and said proudly to himself, “Impossible without Me! That sort of Bear.”

“Now listen all of you,” said Rabbit when he had finished writing, and Pooh and Piglet sat listening very eagerly with their mouths open. This was what Rabbit read out:

Plan to Capture Baby Roo

General Remarks. Kanga runs faster than any of Us, even Me.

More General Remarks. Kanga never takes her eye off Baby Roo, except when he’s safely buttoned up in her pocket.

Therefore. If we are to capture Baby Roo, we must get a Long Start, because Kanga runs faster than any of Us, even Me. (See 1.)

A Thought. If Roo had jumped out of Kanga’s pocket and Piglet had jumped in, Kanga wouldn’t know the difference, because Piglet is a Very Small Animal.

Like Roo.

But Kanga would have to be looking the other way first, so as not to see Piglet jumping in.

See 2.

Another Thought. But if Pooh was talking to her very excitedly, she might look the other way for a moment.

And then I could run away with Roo.

Quickly.

And Kanga wouldn’t discover the difference until Afterwards.

Well, Rabbit read this out proudly, and for a little while after he had read it nobody said anything. And then Piglet, who had been opening and shutting his mouth without making any noise, managed to say very huskily:

“And⁠—Afterwards?”

“How do you mean?”

“When Kanga does Discover the Difference?”

“Then we all say ‘Aha!’ ”

“All three of us?”

“Yes.”

“Oh!”

“Why, what’s the trouble, Piglet?”

“Nothing,” said Piglet, “as long as we all three say it. As long as we all three say it,” said Piglet, “I don’t mind,” he said, “but I shouldn’t care to say ‘Aha!’ by myself. It wouldn’t sound nearly so well. By the way,” he said, “you are quite sure about what you said about the winter months?”

“The winter months?”

“Yes, only being Fierce in the Winter Months.”

“Oh, yes, yes, that’s all right. Well, Pooh? You see what you have to do?”

“No,” said Pooh Bear. “Not yet,” he said. “What do I do?”

“Well, you just have to talk very hard to Kanga so as she doesn’t notice anything.”

“Oh! What about?”

“Anything you like.”

“You mean like telling her a little bit of poetry or something?”

“That’s it,” said Rabbit. “Splendid. Now come along.”

So they all went out to look for Kanga.

Kanga and Roo were spending a quiet afternoon in a sandy part of the Forest. Baby Roo was practising very small jumps in the sand, and falling down mouse-holes and climbing out of them, and Kanga was fidgeting about and saying “Just one more jump, dear, and then we must go home.” And at that moment who should come stumping up the hill but Pooh.

“Good afternoon, Kanga.”

“Good afternoon, Pooh.”

“Look at me jumping,” squeaked Roo, and fell into another mouse-hole.

“Hallo, Roo, my little fellow!”

“We were just going home,” said Kanga. “Good afternoon, Rabbit. Good afternoon, Piglet.”

Rabbit and Piglet, who had now come up from the other side of the hill, said “Good afternoon,” and “Hallo, Roo,” and Roo asked them to look at him jumping, so they stayed and looked.

And Kanga looked too.⁠ ⁠…

“Oh, Kanga,” said Pooh, after Rabbit had winked at him twice, “I don’t know if you are interested in Poetry at all?”

“Hardly at all,” said Kanga.

“Oh!” said Pooh.

“Roo, dear, just one more jump and then we must go home.”

There was a short silence while Roo fell down another mouse-hole.

“Go on,” said Rabbit in a loud whisper behind his paw.

“Talking of Poetry,” said Pooh, “I made up a little piece as I was coming along. It went like this. Er⁠—now let me see⁠—”

“Fancy!” said Kanga. “Now Roo, dear⁠—”

“You’ll like this piece of poetry,” said Rabbit.

“You’ll love it,” said Piglet.

“You must listen very carefully,” said Rabbit.

“So as not to miss any of it,” said Piglet.

“Oh, yes,” said Kanga, but she still looked at Baby Roo.

“How did it go, Pooh?” said Rabbit.

Pooh gave a little cough and began.

Lines Written by a Bear of Very Little Brain

On Monday, when the sun is hot

I wonder to myself a lot:

“Now is it true, or is it not,

“That what is which and which is what?”

On Tuesday, when it hails and snows,

The feeling on me grows and grows

That hardly anybody knows

If those are these or these are those.

On Wednesday, when the sky is blue,

And I have nothing else to do,

I sometimes wonder if it’s true

That who is what and what is who.

On Thursday, when it starts to freeze

And hoarfrost twinkles on the trees,

How very readily one sees

That these are whose⁠—but whose are these?

On Friday⁠—

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” said Kanga, not waiting to hear what happened on Friday. “Just one more jump, Roo, dear, and then we really must be going.”

Rabbit gave Pooh a hurrying-up sort of nudge.

“Talking of Poetry,” said Pooh quickly, “have you ever noticed that tree right over there?”

“Where?” said Kanga. “Now, Roo⁠—”

“Right over there,” said Pooh, pointing behind Kanga’s back.

“No,” said Kanga. “Now jump in, Roo, dear, and we’ll go home.”

“You ought to look at that tree right over there,” said Rabbit. “Shall I lift you in, Roo?” And he picked up Roo in his paws.

“I can see a bird in it from here,” said Pooh. “Or is it a fish?”

“You ought to see that bird from here,” said Rabbit. “Unless it’s a fish.”

“It isn’t a fish, it’s a bird,” said Piglet.

“So it is,” said Rabbit.

“Is it a starling or a blackbird?” said Pooh.

“That’s the whole question,” said Rabbit. “Is it a blackbird or a starling?”

And then at last Kanga did turn her head to look. And the moment that her head was turned, Rabbit said in a loud voice “In you go, Roo!” and in jumped Piglet into Kanga’s pocket, and off scampered Rabbit, with Roo in his paws, as fast as he could.

“Why, where’s Rabbit?” said Kanga, turning round again. “Are you all right, Roo, dear?”

Piglet made a squeaky Roo-noise from the bottom of Kanga’s pocket.

“Rabbit had to go away,” said Pooh. “I think he thought of something he had to go and see about suddenly.”

“And Piglet?”

“I think Piglet thought of something at the same time. Suddenly.”

“Well, we must be getting home,” said Kanga. “Goodbye, Pooh.” And in three large jumps she was gone.

Pooh looked after her as she went.

“I wish I could jump like that,” he thought. “Some can and some can’t. That’s how it is.”

But there were moments when Piglet wished that Kanga couldn’t. Often, when he had had a long walk home through the Forest, he had wished that he were a bird; but now he thought jerkily to himself at the bottom of Kanga’s pocket,

this take

“If is shall really to

flying I never it.”

And as he went up in the air he said, “Ooooooo!” and as he came down he said, “Ow!” And he was saying, “Ooooooo-ow, Ooooooo-ow, Ooooooo-ow” all the way to Kanga’s house.

Of course as soon as Kanga unbuttoned her pocket, she saw what had happened. Just for a moment, she thought she was frightened, and then she knew she wasn’t; for she felt quite sure that Christopher Robin would never let any harm happen to Roo. So she said to herself, “If they are having a joke with me, I will have a joke with them.”

“Now then, Roo, dear,” she said, as she took Piglet out of her pocket. “Bedtime.”

“Aha!” said Piglet, as well as he could after his Terrifying Journey. But it wasn’t a very good “Aha!” and Kanga didn’t seem to understand what it meant.

“Bath first,” said Kanga in a cheerful voice.

“Aha!” said Piglet again, looking round anxiously for the others. But the others weren’t there. Rabbit was playing with Baby Roo in his own house, and feeling more fond of him every minute, and Pooh, who had decided to be a Kanga, was still at the sandy place on the top of the Forest, practising jumps.

“I am not at all sure,” said Kanga in a thoughtful voice, “that it wouldn’t be a good idea to have a cold bath this evening. Would you like that, Roo, dear?”

Piglet, who had never been really fond of baths, shuddered a long indignant shudder, and said in as brave a voice as he could:

“Kanga, I see that the time has come to spleak painly.”

“Funny little Roo,” said Kanga, as she got the bath-water ready.

“I am not Roo,” said Piglet loudly. “I am Piglet!”

“Yes, dear, yes,” said Kanga soothingly. “And imitating Piglet’s voice too! So clever of him,” she went on, as she took a large bar of yellow soap out of the cupboard. “What will he be doing next?”

“Can’t you see?” shouted Piglet. “Haven’t you got eyes? Look at me!”

“I am looking, Roo, dear,” said Kanga rather severely. “And you know what I told you yesterday about making faces. If you go on making faces like Piglet’s, you will grow up to look like Piglet⁠—and then think how sorry you will be. Now then, into the bath, and don’t let me have to speak to you about it again.”

Before he knew where he was, Piglet was in the bath, and Kanga was scrubbing him firmly with a large lathery flannel.

“Ow!” cried Piglet. “Let me out! I’m Piglet!”

“Don’t open the mouth, dear, or the soap goes in,” said Kanga. “There! What did I tell you?”

“You⁠—you⁠—you did it on purpose,” spluttered Piglet, as soon as he could speak again⁠ ⁠… and then accidentally had another mouthful of lathery flannel.

“That’s right, dear, don’t say anything,” said Kanga, and in another minute Piglet was out of the bath, and being rubbed dry with a towel.

“Now,” said Kanga, “there’s your medicine, and then bed.”

“W-w-what medicine?” said Piglet.

“To make you grow big and strong, dear, You don’t want to grow up small and weak like Piglet, do you? Well, then!”

At that moment there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” said Kanga, and in came Christopher Robin.

“Christopher Robin, Christopher Robin!” cried Piglet. “Tell Kanga who I am! She keeps saying I’m Roo. I’m not Roo, am I?”

Christopher Robin looked at him very carefully, and shook his head.

“You can’t be Roo,” he said, “because I’ve just seen Roo playing in Rabbit’s house.”

“Well!” said Kanga. “Fancy that! Fancy my making a mistake like that.”

“There you are!” said Piglet. “I told you so. I’m Piglet.”

Christopher Robin shook his head again.

“Oh, you’re not Piglet,” he said. “I know Piglet well, and he’s quite a different colour.”

Piglet began to say that this was because he had just had a bath, and then he thought that perhaps he wouldn’t say that, and as he opened his mouth to say something else, Kanga slipped the medicine spoon in, and then patted him on the back and told him that it was really quite a nice taste when you got used to it.

“I knew it wasn’t Piglet,” said Kanga. “I wonder who it can be.”

“Perhaps it’s some relation of Pooh’s,” said Christopher Robin. “What about a nephew or an uncle or something?”

Kanga agreed that this was probably what it was, and said that they would have to call it by some name.

“I shall call it Pootel,” said Christopher Robin. “Henry Pootel for short.”

And just when it was decided, Henry Pootel wriggled out of Kanga’s arms and jumped to the ground. To his great joy Christopher Robin had left the door open. Never had Henry Pootel Piglet run so fast as he ran then, and he didn’t stop running until he had got quite close to his house. But when he was a hundred yards away he stopped running, and rolled the rest of the way home, so as to get his own nice...

Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter VI: In Which Eeyore Has a Birthday and Gets Two Presents

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 07 Sep 2022 22:45:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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Season 1 Episode 6

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 02:25 and the tiny lessons begin at 32:35

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

Some illustrations:

Eeyore

Trying to reach the knocker

Can Owl spell?

BANG!

A damp rag

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

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TRANSCRIPT:

ALE S01E06

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Six of Winnie-the-Pooh. Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). Today’s story is a long one. It has a lot of dialogue, and lots of voice acting by, well, me. Don’t worry if the conversations are a little confusing. They are supposed to be. Pooh and Eeyore are just as confused by the conversations as you and I are. So, like always, relax and enjoy.

Chapter VI

In Which Eeyore Has a Birthday and Gets Two Presents

Eeyore, the old grey Donkey, stood by the side of the stream, and looked at himself in the water.

“Pathetic,” he said. “That’s what it is. Pathetic.”

He turned and walked slowly down the stream for twenty yards, splashed across it, and walked slowly back on the other side. Then he looked at himself in the water again.

“As I thought,” he said. “No better from this side. But nobody minds. Nobody cares. Pathetic, that’s what it is.”

There was a crackling noise in the bracken behind him, and out came Pooh.

“Good morning, Eeyore,” said Pooh.

“Good morning, Pooh Bear,” said Eeyore gloomily. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can’t all, and some of us don’t. That’s all there is to it.”

“Can’t all what?” said Pooh, rubbing his nose.

“Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.”

“Oh!” said Pooh. He thought for a long time, and then asked, “What mulberry bush is that?”

“Bon-hommy,” went on Eeyore gloomily. “French word meaning bonhommy,” he explained. “I’m not complaining, but There It Is.”

Pooh sat down on a large stone, and tried to think this out. It sounded to him like a riddle, and he was never much good at riddles, being a Bear of Very Little Brain. So he sang “Cottleston Pie” instead:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

A fly can’t bird, but a bird can fly.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”

That was the first verse. When he had finished it, Eeyore didn’t actually say that he didn’t like it, so Pooh very kindly sang the second verse to him:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

A fish can’t whistle and neither can I.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”

Eeyore still said nothing at all, so Pooh hummed the third verse quietly to himself:

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,

Why does a chicken, I don’t know why.

Ask me a riddle and I reply:

“Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.”

“That’s right,” said Eeyore. “Sing. Umty-tiddly, umty-too. Here we go gathering Nuts and May. Enjoy yourself.”

“I am,” said Pooh.

“Some can,” said Eeyore.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“Is anything the matter?”

“You seem so sad, Eeyore.”

“Sad? Why should I be sad? It’s my birthday. The happiest day of the year.”

“Your birthday?” said Pooh in great surprise.

“Of course it is. Can’t you see? Look at all the presents I have had.” He waved a foot from side to side. “Look at the birthday cake. Candles and pink sugar.”

Pooh looked⁠—first to the right and then to the left.

“Presents?” said Pooh. “Birthday cake?” said Pooh. “Where?”

“Can’t you see them?”

“No,” said Pooh.

“Neither can I,” said Eeyore. “Joke,” he explained. “Ha ha!”

Pooh scratched his head, being a little puzzled by all this.

“But is it really your birthday?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Oh! Well, Many happy returns of the day, Eeyore.”

“And many happy returns to you, Pooh Bear.”

“But it isn’t my birthday.”

“No, it’s mine.”

“But you said ‘Many happy returns’⁠—”

“Well, why not? You don’t always want to be miserable on my birthday, do you?”

“Oh, I see,” said Pooh.

“It’s bad enough,” said Eeyore, almost breaking down, “being miserable myself, what with no presents and no cake and no candles, and no proper notice taken of me at all, but if everybody else is going to be miserable too⁠—”

This was too much for Pooh. “Stay there!” he called to Eeyore, as he turned and hurried back home as quick as he could; for he felt that he must get poor Eeyore a present of some sort at once, and he could always think of a proper one afterwards.

Outside his house he found Piglet, jumping up and down trying to reach the knocker.

“Hallo, Piglet,” he said.

“Hallo, Pooh,” said Piglet.

“What are you trying to do?”

“I was trying to reach the knocker,” said Piglet. “I just came round⁠—”

“Let me do it for you,” said Pooh kindly. So he reached up and knocked at the door. “I have just seen Eeyore,” he began, “and poor Eeyore is in a Very Sad Condition, because it’s his birthday, and nobody has taken any notice of it, and he’s very Gloomy⁠—you know what Eeyore is⁠—and there he was, and⁠—What a long time whoever lives here is answering this door.” And he knocked again.

“But Pooh,” said Piglet, “it’s your own house!”

“Oh!” said Pooh. “So it is,” he said. “Well, let’s go in.”

So in they went. The first thing Pooh did was to go to the cupboard to see if he had quite a small jar of honey left; and he had, so he took it down.

“I’m giving this to Eeyore,” he explained, “as a present. What are you going to give?”

“Couldn’t I give it too?” said Piglet. “From both of us?”

“No,” said Pooh. “That would not be a good plan.”

“All right, then, I’ll give him a balloon. I’ve got one left from my party. I’ll go and get it now, shall I?”

“That, Piglet, is a very good idea. It is just what Eeyore wants to cheer him up. Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon.”

So off Piglet trotted; and in the other direction went Pooh, with his jar of honey.

It was a warm day, and he had a long way to go. He hadn’t gone more than halfway when a sort of funny feeling began to creep all over him. It began at the tip of his nose and trickled all through him and out at the soles of his feet. It was just as if somebody inside him were saying, “Now then, Pooh, time for a little something.”

“Dear, dear,” said Pooh, “I didn’t know it was as late as that.” So he sat down and took the top off his jar of honey. “Lucky I brought this with me,” he thought. “Many a bear going out on a warm day like this would never have thought of bringing a little something with him.” And he began to eat.

“Now let me see,” he thought, as he took his last lick of the inside of the jar, “where was I going? Ah, yes, Eeyore.” He got up slowly.

And then, suddenly, he remembered. He had eaten Eeyore’s birthday present!

“Bother!” said Pooh. “What shall I do? I must give him something.”

For a little while he couldn’t think of anything. Then he thought: “Well, it’s a very nice pot, even if there’s no honey in it, and if I washed it clean, and got somebody to write ‘A Happy Birthday’ on it, Eeyore could keep things in it, which might be Useful.” So, as he was just passing the Hundred Acre Wood, he went inside to call on Owl, who lived there.

“Good morning, Owl,” he said.

“Good morning, Pooh,” said Owl.

“Many happy returns of Eeyore’s birthday,” said Pooh.

“Oh, is that what it is?”

“What are you giving him, Owl?”

“What are you giving him, Pooh?”

“I’m giving him a Useful Pot to Keep Things In, and I wanted to ask you⁠—”

“Is this it?” said Owl, taking it out of Pooh’s paw.

“Yes, and I wanted to ask you⁠—”

“Somebody has been keeping honey in it,” said Owl.

“You can keep anything in it,” said Pooh earnestly. “It’s Very Useful like that. And I wanted to ask you⁠—”

“You ought to write ‘A Happy Birthday’ on it.”

“That was what I wanted to ask you,” said Pooh. “Because my spelling is Wobbly. It’s good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places. Would you write ‘A Happy Birthday’ on it for me?”

“It’s a nice pot,” said Owl, looking at it all round. “Couldn’t I give it too? From both of us?”

“No,” said Pooh. “That would not be a good plan. Now I’ll just wash it first, and then you can write on it.”

Well, he washed the pot out, and dried it, while Owl licked the end of his pencil, and wondered how to spell “birthday.”

“Can you read, Pooh?” he asked a little anxiously. “There’s a notice about knocking and ringing outside my door, which Christopher Robin wrote. Could you read it?”

“Christopher Robin told me what it said, and then I could.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what this says, and then you’ll be able to.”

So Owl wrote⁠ ⁠… and this is what he wrote:

hipy papy bthuthdth thuthda

bthuthdy.

Pooh looked on admiringly.

“I’m just saying ‘A Happy Birthday,’ ” said Owl carelessly.

“It’s a nice long one,” said Pooh, very much impressed by it.

“Well, actually, of course, I’m saying ‘A Very Happy Birthday with love from Pooh.’ Naturally it takes a good deal of pencil to say a long thing like that.”

“Oh, I see,” said Pooh.

While all this was happening, Piglet had gone back to his own house to get Eeyore’s balloon. He held it very tightly against himself, so that it shouldn’t blow away, and he ran as fast as he could so as to get to Eeyore before Pooh did; for he thought that he would like to be the first one to give a present, just as if he had thought of it without being told by anybody. And running along, and thinking how pleased Eeyore would be, he didn’t look where he was going⁠ ⁠… and suddenly he put his foot in a rabbit hole, and fell down flat on his face.

Bang!!!???***!!!

Piglet lay there, wondering what had happened. At first he thought that the whole world had blown up; and then he thought that perhaps only the Forest part of it had; and then he thought that perhaps only he had, and he was now alone in the moon or somewhere, and would never see Christopher Robin or Pooh or Eeyore again. And then he thought, “Well, even if I’m in the moon, I needn’t be face downwards all the time,” so he got cautiously up and looked about him.

He was still in the Forest!

“Well, that’s funny,” he thought. “I wonder what that bang was. I couldn’t have made such a noise just falling down. And where’s my balloon? And what’s that small piece of damp rag doing?”

It was the balloon!

“Oh, dear!” said Piglet. “Oh, dear, oh, dearie, dearie, dear! Well, it’s too late now. I can’t go back, and I haven’t another balloon, and perhaps Eeyore doesn’t like balloons so very much.”

So he trotted on, rather sadly now, and down he came to the side of the stream where Eeyore was, and called out to him.

“Good morning, Eeyore,” shouted Piglet.

“Good morning, Little Piglet,” said Eeyore. “If it is a good morning,” he said. “Which I doubt,” said he. “Not that it matters,” he said.

“Many happy returns of the day,” said Piglet, having now got closer.

Eeyore stopped looking at himself in the stream, and turned to stare at Piglet.

“Just say that again,” he said.

“Many hap⁠—”

“Wait a moment.”

Balancing on three legs, he began to bring his fourth leg very cautiously up to his ear. “I did this yesterday,” he explained, as he fell down for the third time. “It’s quite easy. It’s so as I can hear better.⁠ ⁠… There, that’s done it! Now then, what were you saying?” He pushed his ear forward with his hoof.

“Many happy returns of the day,” said Piglet again.

“Meaning me?”

“Of course, Eeyore.”

“My birthday?”

“Yes.”

“Me having a real birthday?”

“Yes, Eeyore, and I’ve brought you a present.”

Eeyore took down his right hoof from his right ear, turned round, and with great difficulty put up his left hoof.

“I must have that in the other ear,” he said. “Now then.”

“A present,” said Piglet very loudly.

“Meaning me again?”

“Yes.”

“My birthday still?”

“Of course, Eeyore.”

“Me going on having a real birthday?”

“Yes, Eeyore, and I brought you a balloon.”

“Balloon?” said Eeyore. “You did say balloon? One of those big coloured things you blow up? Gaiety, song-and-dance, here we are and there we are?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid⁠—I’m very sorry, Eeyore⁠—but when I was running along to bring it you, I fell down.”

“Dear, dear, how unlucky! You ran too fast, I expect. You didn’t hurt yourself, Little Piglet?”

“No, but I⁠—I⁠—oh, Eeyore, I burst the balloon!”

There was a very long silence.

“My balloon?” said Eeyore at last.

Piglet nodded.

“My birthday balloon?”

“Yes, Eeyore,” said Piglet sniffing a little. “Here it is. With⁠—with many happy returns of the day.” And he gave Eeyore the small piece of damp rag.

“Is this it?” said Eeyore, a little surprised.

Piglet nodded.

“My present?”

Piglet nodded again.

“The balloon?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Piglet,” said Eeyore. “You don’t mind my asking,” he went on, “but what colour was this balloon when it⁠—when it was a balloon?”

“Red.”

“I just wondered.⁠ ⁠… Red,” he murmured to himself. “My favourite colour.⁠ ⁠… How big was it?”

“About as big as me.”

“I just wondered.⁠ ⁠… About as big as Piglet,” he said to himself sadly. “My favourite size. Well, well.”

Piglet felt very miserable, and didn’t know what to say. He was still opening his mouth to begin something, and then deciding that it wasn’t any good saying that, when he heard a shout from the other side of the river, and there was Pooh.

“Many happy returns of the day,” called out Pooh, forgetting that he had said it already.

“Thank you, Pooh, I’m having them,” said Eeyore gloomily.

“I’ve brought you a little present,” said Pooh excitedly.

“I’ve had it,” said Eeyore.

Pooh had now splashed across the stream to Eeyore, and Piglet was sitting a little way off, his head in his paws, snuffling to himself.

“It’s a Useful Pot,” said Pooh. “Here it is. And it’s got ‘A Very Happy Birthday with love from Pooh’ written on it. That’s what all that writing is. And it’s for putting things in. There!”

When Eeyore saw the pot, he became quite excited.

“Why!” he said. “I believe my Balloon will just go into that Pot!”

“Oh, no, Eeyore,” said Pooh. “Balloons are much too big to go into Pots. What you do with a balloon is, you hold the ballon⁠—”

“Not mine,” said Eeyore proudly. “Look, Piglet!” And as Piglet looked sorrowfully round, Eeyore picked the balloon up with his teeth, and placed it carefully in the pot; picked it out and put it on the ground; and then picked it up again and put it carefully back.

“So it does!” said Pooh. “It goes in!”

“So it does!” said Piglet. “And it comes out!”

“Doesn’t it?” said Eeyore. “It goes in and out like anything.”

“I’m very glad,” said Pooh happily, “that I thought of giving you a Useful Pot to put things in.”

“I’m very glad,” said Piglet happily, “that I thought of giving you Something to put in a Useful Pot.”

But Eeyore wasn’t listening. He was taking the balloon out, and putting it back again, as happy as could be.⁠ ⁠…

“And didn’t I give him anything?” asked Christopher Robin sadly.

“Of course you did,” I said. “You gave him⁠—don’t you remember⁠—a little⁠—a little⁠—”

“I gave him a box of paints to paint things with.”

“That was it.”

“Why didn’t I give it to him in the morning?”

“You were so busy getting his party ready for him. He had a cake with icing on the top, and three candles, and his name in pink sugar, and⁠—”

“Yes, I remember,” said Christopher...

Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter V: In Which Piglet Meets a Heffalump

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 31 Aug 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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Season 1 Episode 5

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 01:52 and the tiny lessons begin at 23:20

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s read a story. Today we are reading Chapter Five of Winnie-the-Pooh. The name of this chapter is, “In Which Piglet Meets a Heffalump. Since Christopher Robin is a character in this episode, I have invited Tabatha to join me. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this). There is som,e great silly action in this story, especially when Piglet does indeed meet…..the Heffalump. What’s a Heffalump, you ask? Keep listening to find out!

V

In Which Piglet Meets a Heffalump

One day, when Christopher Robin and Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet were all talking together, Christopher Robin finished the mouthful he was eating and said carelessly: “I saw a Heffalump today, Piglet.”

“What was it doing?” asked Piglet.

“Just lumping along,” said Christopher Robin. “I don’t think it saw me.”

“I saw one once,” said Piglet. “At least, I think I did,” he said. “Only perhaps it wasn’t.”

“So did I,” said Pooh, wondering what a Heffalump was like.

“You don’t often see them,” said Christopher Robin carelessly.

“Not now,” said Piglet.

“Not at this time of year,” said Pooh.

Then they all talked about something else, until it was time for Pooh and Piglet to go home together. At first as they stumped along the path which edged the Hundred Acre Wood, they didn’t say much to each other; but when they came to the stream and had helped each other across the stepping stones, and were able to walk side by side again over the heather, they began to talk in a friendly way about this and that, and Piglet said, “If you see what I mean, Pooh,” and Pooh said, “It’s just what I think myself, Piglet,” and Piglet said, “But, on the other hand, Pooh, we must remember,” and Pooh said, “Quite true, Piglet, although I had forgotten it for the moment.” And then, just as they came to the Six Pine Trees, Pooh looked round to see that nobody else was listening, and said in a very solemn voice:

“Piglet, I have decided something.”

“What have you decided, Pooh?”

“I have decided to catch a Heffalump.”

Pooh nodded his head several times as he said this, and waited for Piglet to say “How?” or “Pooh, you couldn’t!” or something helpful of that sort, but Piglet said nothing. The fact was Piglet was wishing that he had thought about it first.

“I shall do it,” said Pooh, after waiting a little longer, “by means of a trap. And it must be a Cunning Trap, so you will have to help me, Piglet.”

“Pooh,” said Piglet, feeling quite happy again now, “I will.” And then he said, “How shall we do it?” and Pooh said, “That’s just it. How?” And then they sat down together to think it out.

Pooh’s first idea was that they should dig a Very Deep Pit, and then the Heffalump would come along and fall into the Pit, and⁠—

“Why?” said Piglet.

“Why what?” said Pooh.

“Why would he fall in?”

Pooh rubbed his nose with his paw, and said that the Heffalump might be walking along, humming a little song, and looking up at the sky, wondering if it would rain, and so he wouldn’t see the Very Deep Pit until he was halfway down, when it would be too late.

Piglet said that this was a very good Trap, but supposing it were raining already?

Pooh rubbed his nose again, and said that he hadn’t thought of that. And then he brightened up, and said that, if it were raining already, the Heffalump would be looking at the sky wondering if it would clear up, and so he wouldn’t see the Very Deep Pit until he was halfway down.⁠ ⁠… When it would be too late.

Piglet said that, now that this point had been explained, he thought it was a Cunning Trap.

Pooh was very proud when he heard this, and he felt that the Heffalump was as good as caught already, but there was just one other thing which had to be thought about, and it was this. Where should they dig the Very Deep Pit?

Piglet said that the best place would be somewhere where a Heffalump was, just before he fell into it, only about a foot farther on.

“But then he would see us digging it,” said Pooh.

“Not if he was looking at the sky.”

“He would Suspect,” said Pooh, “if he happened to look down.” He thought for a long time and then added sadly, “It isn’t as easy as I thought. I suppose that’s why Heffalumps hardly ever get caught.”

“That must be it,” said Piglet.

They sighed and got up; and when they had taken a few gorse prickles out of themselves they sat down again; and all the time Pooh was saying to himself, “If only I could think of something!” For he felt sure that a Very Clever Brain could catch a Heffalump if only he knew the right way to go about it.

“Suppose,” he said to Piglet, “you wanted to catch me, how would you do it?”

“Well,” said Piglet, “I should do it like this. I should make a Trap, and I should put a Jar of Honey in the Trap, and you would smell it, and you would go in after it, and⁠—”

“And I would go in after it,” said Pooh excitedly, “only very carefully so as not to hurt myself, and I would get to the Jar of Honey, and I should lick round the edges first of all, pretending that there wasn’t any more, you know, and then I should walk away and think about it a little, and then I should come back and start licking in the middle of the jar, and then⁠—”

“Yes, well never mind about that. There you would be, and there I should catch you. Now the first thing to think of is, What do Heffalumps like? I should think acorns, shouldn’t you? We’ll get a lot of⁠—I say, wake up, Pooh!”

Pooh, who had gone into a happy dream, woke up with a start, and said that Honey was a much more trappy thing than Haycorns. Piglet didn’t think so; and they were just going to argue about it, when Piglet remembered that, if they put acorns in the Trap, he would have to find the acorns, but if they put honey, then Pooh would have to give up some of his own honey, so he said, “All right, honey then,” just as Pooh remembered it too, and was going to say, “All right, haycorns.”

“Honey,” said Piglet to himself in a thoughtful way, as if it were now settled. “I’ll dig the pit, while you go and get the honey.”

“Very well,” said Pooh, and he stumped off.

As soon as he got home, he went to the larder; and he stood on a chair, and took down a very large jar of honey from the top shelf. It had hunny written on it, but, just to make sure, he took off the paper cover and looked at it, and it looked just like honey. “But you never can tell,” said Pooh. “I remember my uncle saying once that he had seen cheese just this colour.” So he put his tongue in, and took a large lick. “Yes,” he said, “it is. No doubt about that. And honey, I should say, right down to the bottom of the jar. Unless, of course,” he said, “somebody put cheese in at the bottom just for a joke. Perhaps I had better go a little further⁠ ⁠… just in case⁠ ⁠… in case Heffalumps don’t like cheese⁠ ⁠… same as me.⁠ ⁠… Ah!” And he gave a deep sigh. “I was right. It is honey, right the way down.”

Having made certain of this, he took the jar back to Piglet, and Piglet looked up from the bottom of his Very Deep Pit, and said, “Got it?” and Pooh said, “Yes, but it isn’t quite a full jar,” and he threw it down to Piglet, and Piglet said, “No, it isn’t! Is that all you’ve got left?” and Pooh said “Yes.” Because it was. So Piglet put the jar at the bottom of the Pit, and climbed out, and they went off home together.

“Well, good night, Pooh,” said Piglet, when they had got to Pooh’s house. “And we meet at six o’clock tomorrow morning by the Pine Trees, and see how many Heffalumps we’ve got in our Trap.”

“Six o’clock, Piglet. And have you got any string?”

“No. Why do you want string?”

“To lead them home with.”

“Oh!⁠ ⁠… I think Heffalumps come if you whistle.”

“Some do and some don’t. You never can tell with Heffalumps. Well, good night!”

“Good night!”

And off Piglet trotted to his house Trespassers W, while Pooh made his preparations for bed.

Some hours later, just as the night was beginning to steal away, Pooh woke up suddenly with a sinking feeling. He had had that sinking feeling before, and he knew what it meant. He was hungry. So he went to the larder, and he stood on a chair and reached up to the top shelf, and found⁠—nothing.

“That’s funny,” he thought. “I know I had a jar of honey there. A full jar, full of honey right up to the top, and it had hunny written on it, so that I should know it was honey. That’s very funny.” And then he began to wander up and down, wondering where it was and murmuring a murmur to himself. Like this:

It’s very, very funny,

’Cos I know I had some honey;

’Cos it had a label on,

Saying hunny.

A goloptious full-up pot too,

And I don’t know where it’s got to,

No, I don’t know where it’s gone⁠—

Well, it’s funny.

He had murmured this to himself three times in a singing sort of way, when suddenly he remembered. He had put it into the Cunning Trap to catch the Heffalump.

“Bother!” said Pooh. “It all comes of trying to be kind to Heffalumps.” And he got back into bed.

But he couldn’t sleep. The more he tried to sleep, the more he couldn’t. He tried Counting Sheep, which is sometimes a good way of getting to sleep, and, as that was no good, he tried counting Heffalumps. And that was worse. Because every Heffalump that he counted was making straight for a pot of Pooh’s honey, and eating it all. For some minutes he lay there miserably, but when the five hundred and eighty-seventh Heffalump was licking its jaws, and saying to itself, “Very good honey this, I don’t know when I’ve tasted better,” Pooh could bear it no longer. He jumped out of bed, he ran out of the house, and he ran straight to the Six Pine Trees.

The Sun was still in bed, but there was a lightness in the sky over the Hundred Acre Wood which seemed to show that it was waking up and would soon be kicking off the clothes. In the half-light the Pine Trees looked cold and lonely, and the Very Deep Pit seemed deeper than it was, and Pooh’s jar of honey at the bottom was something mysterious, a shape and no more. But as he got nearer to it his nose told him that it was indeed honey, and his tongue came out and began to polish up his mouth, ready for it.

“Bother!” said Pooh, as he got his nose inside the jar. “A Heffalump has been eating it!” And then he thought a little and said, “Oh, no, I did. I forgot.”

Indeed, he had eaten most of it. But there was a little left at the very bottom of the jar, and he pushed his head right in, and began to lick.⁠ ⁠…

By and by Piglet woke up. As soon as he woke he said to himself, “Oh!” Then he said bravely, “Yes,” and then, still more bravely, “Quite so.” But he didn’t feel very brave, for the word which was really jiggeting about in his brain was “Heffalumps.”

What was a Heffalump like?

Was it Fierce?

Did it come when you whistled? And how did it come?

Was it Fond of Pigs at all?

If it was Fond of Pigs, did it make any difference what sort of Pig?

Supposing it was Fierce with Pigs, would it make any difference if the Pig had a grandfather called Trespassers William?

He didn’t know the answer to any of these questions⁠ ⁠… and he was going to see his first Heffalump in about an hour from now!

Of course Pooh would be with him, and it was much more Friendly with two. But suppose Heffalumps were Very Fierce with Pigs and Bears? Wouldn’t it be better to pretend that he had a headache, and couldn’t go up to the Six Pine Trees this morning? But then suppose that it was a very fine day, and there was no Heffalump in the trap, here he would be, in bed all the morning, simply wasting his time for nothing. What should he do?

And then he had a Clever Idea. He would go up very quietly to the Six Pine Trees now, peep very cautiously into the Trap, and see if there was a Heffalump there. And if there was, he would go back to bed, and if there wasn’t, he wouldn’t.

So off he went. At first he thought that there wouldn’t be a Heffalump in the Trap, and then he thought that there would, and as he got nearer he was sure that there would, because he could hear it heffalumping about it like anything.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear!” said Piglet to himself. And he wanted to run away. But somehow, having got so near, he felt that he must just see what a Heffalump was like. So he crept to the side of the Trap and looked in.⁠ ⁠…

And all the time Winnie-the-Pooh had been trying to get the honey-jar off his head. The more he shook it, the more tightly it stuck. “Bother!” he said, inside the jar, and “Oh, help!” and, mostly, “Ow!” And he tried bumping it against things, but as he couldn’t see what he was bumping it against, it didn’t help him; and he tried to climb out of the Trap, but as he could see nothing but jar, and not much of that, he couldn’t find his way. So at last he lifted up his head, jar and all, and made a loud, roaring noise of Sadness and Despair⁠ ⁠… and it was at that moment that Piglet looked down.

“Help, help!” cried Piglet, “a Heffalump, a Horrible Heffalump!” and he scampered off as hard as he could, still crying out, “Help, help, a Herrible Hoffalump! Hoff, Hoff, a Hellible Horralump! Holl, Holl, a Hoffable Hellerump!” And he didn’t stop crying and scampering until he got to Christopher Robin’s house.

“Whatever’s the matter, Piglet?” said Christopher Robin, who was just getting up.

“Heff,” said Piglet, breathing so hard that he could hardly speak, “a Heff⁠—a Heff⁠—a Heffalump.”

“Where?”

“Up there,” said Piglet, waving his paw.

“What did it look like?”

“Like⁠—like⁠—It had the biggest head you ever saw, Christopher Robin. A great enormous thing, like⁠—like nothing. A huge big⁠—well, like a⁠—I don’t know⁠—like an enormous big nothing. Like a jar.”

“Well,” said Christopher Robin, putting on his shoes, “I shall go and look at it. Come on.”

Piglet wasn’t afraid if he had Christopher Robin with him, so off they went.⁠ ⁠…

“I can hear it, can’t you?” said Piglet anxiously, as they got near.

“I can hear something,” said Christopher Robin.

It was Pooh bumping his head against a tree-root he had found.

“There!” said Piglet. “Isn’t it awful?” And he held on tight to Christopher Robin’s hand.

Suddenly Christopher Robin began to laugh⁠ ⁠… and he laughed⁠ ⁠… and he laughed⁠ ⁠… and he laughed. And while he was still laughing⁠—Crash went the Heffalump’s head against the tree-root, Smash went the jar, and out came Pooh’s head again.⁠ ⁠…

Then Piglet saw what a Foolish Piglet he had been, and he was so ashamed of himself that he ran straight off home and went to bed with a headache. But Christopher Robin and Pooh went home to breakfast together.

“Oh, Bear!” said Christopher Robin. “How I do love you!”

“So do I,” said Pooh.

—-----------------------

Well, that got kind of intense. Maybe even a little scary? I remember being pretty scared by that story when I was little. There’s a Hoffable Hellerump, after all. But that’s the thing. Piglet is a very anxious guy. He gets pretty upset about almost everything. I mean, I feel the same way some days.

Let’s do some lessons.

First, let’s check the Big Picture.

The simple question is: What in the world do YOU think a Heffalump is? Take a moment, even pause the show if you can, and answer the question.

In this story, a Heffalump is a made-up animal. These stories are very heavy on imagination and make-believe, which is why they are so magical. So, nobody really knows what a Heffalump is, but nobody wants to say that in front of their friends, so they all act like they know exactly what it is. Pretty typical guy stuff if you ask me.

Now, how about we visit the Dictionary Disco?

There are quite a few excellent vocabulary words in this story, but these are tiny lessons, not enormous ones. So, if you want to study more vocabulary, do like I recommend in the Podcast User’s manual. Every time I say a word you don’t know, pause the show and look it up. There are some good ones in this episode.

That said, here are two for now.

The first one is Murmur, which is used three times in one part of the story. To murmur is kind of like to say something quietly to yourself. In a way that other people can’t really understand you.

The other word is Scamper, which is used twice in this story. Like “Piglet scampered off as hard as he could.” it’s a kind of running, but it’s running exactly like you think Piglet would, if he was excited or scared. His short little legs just moving as fast as they can. Zip!

Finally, we are gonna have a Melody Moment.

I want to keep talking about Syllables for at least one more moment. The’re just so important. So Here are two words from the story. You tell me how many syllables they have. Ready? Heffalump….three. Goloptious…..also three. Goloptious and Heffalump are of course….not real words. Pooh loves made-up words. Now. In both of these words, Heffalump and Goloptious, which syllable is the strong one? Take a minute.

In Heffalump, the HEFF is the strongest. And the other two? Schwas. And GoLOPtious? It’s the LOP, the second syllable. And you guessed it. The other two are schwas.

Now here’s the interesting part. IN those two words, we have schwa spelled FOUR different ways. Heffalump uses an A and a U to make schwa sounds. Goloptious uses an O and a, ious combo.

I think it’s really important that you learn not to trust English spelling. Trust your ears.

Let’s go to the credits.

—---------------------------------------------

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 5 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

For more information on how

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter IV: In Which Eeyore Loses a Tail and Pooh Finds One

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 24 Aug 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 4

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 1:44 and the tiny lessons begin at 17:10

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s get into this story. Today we are reading Chapter Four of Winnie-the-Pooh. The name of this chapter is, “In Which Eeyore Loses a Tail and Pooh Finds One. This story is about Eeyore, who is a one of the best characters in the book, but it’s also the first time that we meet Owl. Both of these characters are really fun for me to play. I’ve been working on their voices for a while, trying to make them different from….other versions. I hope you enjoy!

IV

In Which Eeyore Loses a Tail and Pooh Finds One

The Old Grey Donkey, Eeyore, stood by himself in a thistly corner of the forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, “Why?” and sometimes he thought, “Wherefore?” and sometimes he thought, “Inasmuch as which?”⁠—and sometimes he didn’t quite know what he was thinking about. So when Winnie-the-Pooh came stumping along, Eeyore was very glad to be able to stop thinking for a little, in order to say “How do you do?” in a gloomy manner to him.

“And how are you?” said Winnie-the-Pooh.

Eeyore shook his head from side to side.

“Not very how,” he said. “I don’t seem to have felt at all how for a long time.”

“Dear, dear,” said Pooh, “I’m sorry about that. Let’s have a look at you.”

So Eeyore stood there, gazing sadly at the ground, and Winnie-the-Pooh walked all round him once.

“Why, what’s happened to your tail?” he said in surprise.

“What has happened to it?” said Eeyore.

“It isn’t there!”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, either a tail is there or it isn’t there. You can’t make a mistake about it. And yours isn’t there!”

“Then what is?”

“Nothing.”

“Let’s have a look,” said Eeyore, and he turned slowly round to the place where his tail had been a little while ago, and then, finding that he couldn’t catch it up, he turned round the other way, until he came back to where he was at first, and then he put his head down and looked between his front legs, and at last he said, with a long, sad sigh, “I believe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” said Pooh.

“That Accounts for a Good Deal,” said Eeyore gloomily. “It Explains Everything. No Wonder.”

“You must have left it somewhere,” said Winnie-the-Pooh.

“Somebody must have taken it,” said Eeyore. “How Like Them,” he added, after a long silence.

Pooh felt that he ought to say something helpful about it, but didn’t quite know what. So he decided to do something helpful instead.

“Eeyore,” he said solemnly, “I, Winnie-the-Pooh, will find your tail for you.”

“Thank you, Pooh,” answered Eeyore. “You’re a real friend,” said he. “Not like Some,” he said.

So Winnie-the-Pooh went off to find Eeyore’s tail.

It was a fine spring morning in the forest as he started out. Little soft clouds played happily in a blue sky, skipping from time to time in front of the sun as if they had come to put it out, and then sliding away suddenly so that the next might have his turn. Through them and between them the sun shone bravely; and a copse which had worn its firs all the year round seemed old and dowdy now beside the new green lace which the beeches had put on so prettily. Through copse and spinney marched Bear; down open slopes of gorse and heather, over rocky beds of streams, up steep banks of sandstone into the heather again; and so at last, tired and hungry, to the Hundred Acre Wood. For it was in the Hundred Acre Wood that Owl lived.

“And if anyone knows anything about anything,” said Bear to himself, “it’s Owl who knows something about something,” he said, “or my name’s not Winnie-the-Pooh,” he said. “Which it is,” he added. “So there you are.”

Owl lived at The Chestnuts, an old-world residence of great charm, which was grander than anybody else’s, or seemed so to Bear, because it had both a knocker and a bell-pull. Underneath the knocker there was a notice which said:

ples ring if an rnser is reqird.

Underneath the bell-pull there was a notice which said:

plez cnoke if an rnsr is not reqid.

These notices had been written by Christopher Robin, who was the only one in the forest who could spell; for Owl, wise though he was in many ways, able to read and write and spell his own name Wol, yet somehow went all to pieces over delicate words like measles and buttered toast.

Winnie-the-Pooh read the two notices very carefully, first from left to right, and afterwards, in case he had missed some of it, from right to left. Then, to make quite sure, he knocked and pulled the knocker, and he pulled and knocked the bell-rope, and he called out in a very loud voice, “Owl! I require an answer! It’s Bear speaking.” And the door opened, and Owl looked out.

“Hallo, Pooh,” he said. “How’s things?”

“Terrible and Sad,” said Pooh, “because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine, has lost his tail. And he’s Moping about it. So could you very kindly tell me how to find it for him?”

“Well,” said Owl, “the customary procedure in such cases is as follows.”

“What does Crustimoney Proseedcake mean?” said Pooh. “For I am a Bear of Very Little Brain, and long words Bother me.”

“It means the Thing to Do.”

“As long as it means that, I don’t mind,” said Pooh humbly.

“The thing to do is as follows. First, Issue a Reward. Then⁠—”

“Just a moment,” said Pooh, holding up his paw. “What do we do to this⁠—what you were saying? You sneezed just as you were going to tell me.”

“I didn’t sneeze.”

“Yes, you did, Owl.”

“Excuse me, Pooh, I didn’t. You can’t sneeze without knowing it.”

“Well, you can’t know it without something having been sneezed.”

“What I said was, ‘First Issue a Reward.’ ”

“You’re doing it again,” said Pooh sadly.

“A Reward!” said Owl very loudly. “We write a notice to say that we will give a large something to anybody who finds Eeyore’s tail.”

“I see, I see,” said Pooh, nodding his head. “Talking about large somethings,” he went on dreamily, “I generally have a small something about now⁠—about this time in the morning,” and he looked wistfully at the cupboard in the corner of Owl’s parlour; “just a mouthful of condensed milk or whatnot, with perhaps a lick of honey⁠—”

“Well, then,” said Owl, “we write out this notice, and we put it up all over the forest.”

“A lick of honey,” murmured Bear to himself, “or⁠—or not, as the case may be.” And he gave a deep sigh, and tried very hard to listen to what Owl was saying.

But Owl went on and on, using longer and longer words, until at last he came back to where he started, and he explained that the person to write out this notice was Christopher Robin.

“It was he who wrote the ones on my front door for me. Did you see them, Pooh?”

For some time now Pooh had been saying “Yes” and “No” in turn, with his eyes shut, to all that Owl was saying, and having said, “Yes, yes,” last time, he said “No, not at all,” now, without really knowing what Owl was talking about.

“Didn’t you see them?” said Owl, a little surprised. “Come and look at them now.”

So they went outside. And Pooh looked at the knocker and the notice below it, and he looked at the bell-rope and the notice below it, and the more he looked at the bell-rope, the more he felt that he had seen something like it, somewhere else, sometime before.

“Handsome bell-rope, isn’t it?” said Owl.

Pooh nodded.

“It reminds me of something,” he said, “but I can’t think what. Where did you get it?”

“I just came across it in the Forest. It was hanging over a bush, and I thought at first somebody lived there, so I rang it, and nothing happened, and then I rang it again very loudly, and it came off in my hand, and as nobody seemed to want it, I took it home, and⁠—”

“Owl,” said Pooh solemnly, “you made a mistake. Somebody did want it.”

“Who?”

“Eeyore. My dear friend Eeyore. He was⁠—he was fond of it.”

“Fond of it?”

“Attached to it,” said Winnie-the-Pooh sadly.

So with these words he unhooked it, and carried it back to Eeyore; and when Christopher Robin had nailed it on in its right place again, Eeyore frisked about the forest, waving his tail so happily that Winnie-the-Pooh came over all funny, and had to hurry home for a little snack of something to sustain him. And, wiping his mouth half an hour afterwards, he sang to himself proudly:

Who found the Tail?

“I,” said Pooh,

“At a quarter to two

(Only it was quarter to eleven really),

I found the Tail!”

—--------------------------

LESSONS START AT 16:30

Crustimoney Proceedcake. Crustimoney Proceedcake. I had forgotten about that one. When I was a little kid, I thought that was the funniest damn thing i’d ever heard. Crustimoney Proceedcake. To tell the truth, I still kinda do.

On to the lessons!

First, let’s try to see the Big Picture. Can you tell me the whole story of Eeyore’s tail? How did he lose it? Where did Owl find it? And what did Pooh do with it once he realized what had happened? I’ll give you a minute.

Eeyore must have brushed up against a bush with his rear end, because that’s where Owl found it. Just hanging from a bush. And he thought it looked like a string for ringing a bell, so he took it home. When Pooh figured out what had happened, he took it back to poor old Eeyore. What a good friend.

Now, let’s check out the Dictionary Disco, where we talk about vocabulary. Crustimoney Proceedcake is, obviously not real English. As much as I wish that it was.

There is a paragraph about one-third of the way through the story that is one of the loveliest pieces of writing I’ve ever encountered. It starts with “It was a fine spring morning,” and finishes with, “For it was in the Hundred Acre Wood that Owl lived.” There are a lot of vocabulary words in there. If you are studying at level 3, go ahead and look each of them up in your dictionary. I not, just trust me that any word you don’t know? It probably just means plants. Copse, Spinney, gorse, heather, firs, these are all British plants and trees. So don’t sweat it too much. Just enjoy the beauty of that paragraph. It’s pretty special.

Finally, it’s time for the Melody Moment.

Today I want to kind of combine the last three lessons. We talked about rhythm. We talked about Schwa. The little tiny uh sound. We talked about syllables. So here’s the interesting thing. Most of the time, when a word has more than two syllables, one is stronger than the others. And the weak ones, most of the time, they’re schwas. Like check out these words from the story: MEASLES. BUTTERED. They both have two syllables. The first syllable is stronger in both of them. And the second syllable both have a schwa. Let’s try another. BANANA. Banana has three syllables, and the first and third ones are schwas. But here’s the really interesting thing. The vowel in all three syllables is the letter A. But in the first syllable it sounds like ə. In the second syllable, it sounds like AH and in the third, it’s ə again. English spelling is really weird.

Let’s do the credits.

—---------------------------------------------

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 4 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter.

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes.

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter III: In Which Pooh and Piglet Go Hunting and Nearly Catch a Woozle

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 17 Aug 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 3

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉The story begins at 1:55 and the tiny lessons begin at 13:24

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

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TRANSCRIPT:

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s get into this story. Today we are reading Chapter Three of Winnie-the-Pooh, and I have once again invited Tabatha to play Christopher Robin. Are you ready, Tabatha? (Let’s DO this!) In this story, we are introduced to Piglet, who is Pooh’s closest animal friend. Pooh and Piglet do…well, they do a very silly thing. I don’t want to ruin the surprise, so we can talk about it after the story. For now, let’s get on with it!

III

In Which Pooh and Piglet Go Hunting and Nearly Catch a Woozle

The Piglet lived in a very grand house in the middle of a beech-tree, and the beech-tree was in the middle of the forest, and the Piglet lived in the middle of the house. Next to his house was a piece of broken board which had: “Trespassers W” on it. When Christopher Robin asked the Piglet what it meant, he said it was his grandfather’s name, and had been in the family for a long time, Christopher Robin said you couldn’t be called Trespassers W, and Piglet said yes, you could, because his grandfather was, and it was short for Trespassers Will, which was short for Trespassers William. And his grandfather had had two names in case he lost one⁠—Trespassers after an uncle, and William after Trespassers.

“I’ve got two names,” said Christopher Robin carelessly.

“Well, there you are, that proves it,” said Piglet.

One fine winter’s day when Piglet was brushing away the snow in front of his house, he happened to look up, and there was Winnie-the-Pooh. Pooh was walking round and round in a circle, thinking of something else, and when Piglet called to him, he just went on walking.

“Hallo!” said Piglet, “what are you doing?”

“Hunting,” said Pooh.

“Hunting what?”

“Tracking something,” said Winnie-the-Pooh very mysteriously.

“Tracking what?” said Piglet, coming closer.

“That’s just what I ask myself. I ask myself, What?”

“What do you think you’ll answer?”

“I shall have to wait until I catch up with it,” said Winnie-the-Pooh. “Now, look there.” He pointed to the ground in front of him. “What do you see there?”

“Tracks,” said Piglet. “Paw-marks.” He gave a little squeak of excitement. “Oh, Pooh! Do you think it’s a⁠—a⁠—a Woozle?”

“It may be,” said Pooh. “Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t. You never can tell with paw-marks.”

With these few words he went on tracking, and Piglet, after watching him for a minute or two, ran after him. Winnie-the-Pooh had come to a sudden stop, and was bending over the tracks in a puzzled sort of way.

“What’s the matter?” asked Piglet.

“It’s a very funny thing,” said Bear, “but there seem to be two animals now. This⁠—whatever-it-was⁠—has been joined by another⁠—whatever-it-is⁠—and the two of them are now proceeding in company. Would you mind coming with me, Piglet, in case they turn out to be Hostile Animals?”

Piglet scratched his ear in a nice sort of way, and said that he had nothing to do until Friday, and would be delighted to come, in case it really was a Woozle.

“You mean, in case it really is two Woozles,” said Winnie-the-Pooh, and Piglet said that anyhow he had nothing to do until Friday. So off they went together.

There was a small spinney of larch trees just here, and it seemed as if the two Woozles, if that is what they were, had been going round this spinney; so round this spinney went Pooh and Piglet after them; Piglet passing the time by telling Pooh what his Grandfather Trespassers W had done to Remove Stiffness after Tracking, and how his Grandfather Trespassers W had suffered in his later years from Shortness of Breath, and other matters of interest, and Pooh wondering what a Grandfather was like, and if perhaps this was Two Grandfathers they were after now, and, if so, whether he would be allowed to take one home and keep it, and what Christopher Robin would say. And still the tracks went on in front of them.⁠ ⁠…

Suddenly Winnie-the-Pooh stopped, and pointed excitedly in front of him. “Look!”

“What?” said Piglet, with a jump. And then, to show that he hadn’t been frightened, he jumped up and down once or twice more in an exercising sort of way.

“The tracks!” said Pooh. “A third animal has joined the other two!”

“Pooh!” cried Piglet. “Do you think it is another Woozle?”

“No,” said Pooh, “because it makes different marks. It is either Two Woozles and one, as it might be, Wizzle, or Two, as it might be, Wizzles and one, if so it is, Woozle. Let us continue to follow them.”

So they went on, feeling just a little anxious now, in case the three animals in front of them were of Hostile Intent. And Piglet wished very much that his Grandfather T. W. were there, instead of elsewhere, and Pooh thought how nice it would be if they met Christopher Robin suddenly but quite accidentally, and only because he liked Christopher Robin so much. And then, all of a sudden, Winnie-the-Pooh stopped again, and licked the tip of his nose in a cooling manner, for he was feeling more hot and anxious than ever in his life before. There were four animals in front of them!

“Do you see, Piglet? Look at their tracks! Three, as it were, Woozles, and one, as it was, Wizzle. Another Woozle has joined them!”

And so it seemed to be. There were the tracks; crossing over each other here, getting muddled up with each other there; but, quite plainly every now and then, the tracks of four sets of paws.

“I think,” said Piglet, when he had licked the tip of his nose too, and found that it brought very little comfort, “I think that I have just remembered something. I have just remembered something that I forgot to do yesterday and shan’t be able to do tomorrow. So I suppose I really ought to go back and do it now.”

“We’ll do it this afternoon, and I’ll come with you,” said Pooh.

“It isn’t the sort of thing you can do in the afternoon,” said Piglet quickly. “It’s a very particular morning thing, that has to be done in the morning, and, if possible, between the hours of⁠—What would you say the time was?”

“About twelve,” said Winnie-the-Pooh, looking at the sun.

“Between, as I was saying, the hours of twelve and twelve five. So, really, dear old Pooh, if you’ll excuse me⁠—What’s that?”

Pooh looked up at the sky, and then, as he heard the whistle again, he looked up into the branches of a big oak-tree, and then he saw a friend of his.

“It’s Christopher Robin,” he said.

“Ah, then you’ll be all right,” said Piglet. “You’ll be quite safe with him. Goodbye,” and he trotted off home as quickly as he could, very glad to be Out of All Danger again.

Christopher Robin came slowly down his tree.

“Silly old Bear,” he said, “what were you doing? First you went round the spinney twice by yourself, and then Piglet ran after you and you went round again together, and then you were just going round a fourth time⁠—”

“Wait a moment,” said Winnie-the-Pooh, holding up his paw.

He sat down and thought, in the most thoughtful way he could think. Then he fitted his paw into one of the Tracks⁠ ⁠… and then he scratched his nose twice, and stood up.

“Yes,” said Winnie-the-Pooh.

“I see now,” said Winnie-the-Pooh.

“I have been Foolish and Deluded,” said he, “and I am a Bear of No Brain at All.”

“You’re the Best Bear in All the World,” said Christopher Robin soothingly.

“Am I?” said Pooh hopefully. And then he brightened up suddenly.

“Anyhow,” he said, “it is nearly Luncheon Time.”

So he went home for it.

—-----------

I think the best thing about Pooh is his attitude. One minute he’s being really hard on himself, saying he is a Bear of No Brain At All. Then just a few seconds later, he’s like, “oh well, let’s eat.” I wish I could be that…comfortable with life. Maybe someday.

For now, let’s just get right to the three tiny lessons.

First let’s jump into the Dictionary Disco, where we talk about vocabulary.We’re doing the disco fist because we really need to talk about one word before we can understand the Big Picture.

The word is Spinney. Now, this is a really tough one, but it’s really important for the story. Pooh and Piglet are walking around a Spinney. I did a little research, and it is a very British word, and was much more popular in the 19th century. Actually, I’ve ever seen this word used anywhere else, which makes sense since I’m an American who was born at the end of the 20th century. So, what does it mean? It’s a small area of trees and bushes. That’s it. Just a few plants. Huh.

The second word is Hostile, as in Hostile Animals and Hostile Intent. This word means, something that wants to hurt you. Pooh and Piglet were both very worried that the Woozles would be Hostile. But, of course, they weren’t because there weren’t any woozles.

Next let’s take a look at The Big Picture. Did you get it? Did you get the silly thing that Pooh did? Pooh understood by the end. It took him a minute, but he did. My copy of the book has these really great illustrations that help make a bit more sense. I’ll put a link in the show notes.

So the key to understanding what happened, is that Pooh and Piglet were walking in circles around a Spinney, or just, a bunch of trees. It was snowing, and Pooh was following some mysterious footprints in the snow. But of course, they were his own footprints. So the second Woozle, that was Pooh’s footprints again, as he went around the trees a second time. Then the Wizzle, that was Piglet joining Pooh! There was never and Woozle. They were chasing themselves!

You can see why he calls himself a Bear of No Brain at All.

Finally let’s slow down, and take a Melody Moment. Today I wanna talk about syllables. Probably all of you have studied syllables at some point, but let’s review. The easiest way to think about syllables is, how many times do you open your mouth when you say a word? So like “banana.” That has three syllables. “Cooper,” that has two. And “Pen,” that only has one. Syllables are super important to rhythm and melody, as I will show you later on this season. For now, let’s just do some syllable counting. I’ll say the words, you count the syllables. Ready? Boston….that’s 2. Paris….also 2. Chair…..that’s one. Alligator…….that’s four. Ham….one. Sandwich……two. Wow, I think I’m getting hungry, like Pooh. Let’s go to the credits.

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 3 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter.

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes.

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter II: In Which Pooh Goes Visiting and Gets Into a Tight Place

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 10 Aug 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 2

Thank you for downloading this episode.

👉Check out some of the original art by EH Shepard:

Pooh goes visiting

Pooh has some trouble

All Rabbit's friends and relations

👉The story begins at 1:34 and the tiny lessons begin at 16:14

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

INTRO 0:00

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

So, let’s get into this story. Today we are reading Chapter Two of Winnie-the-Pooh, and I have once again invited Tabatha to play Christopher Robin. I think that this is probably the most famous Pooh story. Or, at least, it’s the one that I remember the most clearly from my childhood. The good news is, it doesn’t have that story-within-a-story thing that the last one had. It’s just a story about Pooh going to visit his friend, and…well…you’ll see.

STORY 1:34

II

In Which Pooh Goes Visiting and Gets Into a Tight Place

Edward Bear, known to his friends as Winnie-the-Pooh, or Pooh for short, was walking through the forest one day, humming proudly to himself. He had made up a little hum that very morning, as he was doing his Stoutness Exercises in front of the glass: Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, as he stretched up as high as he could go, and then Tra-la-la, tra-la⁠—oh, help!⁠—la, as he tried to reach his toes. After breakfast he had said it over and over to himself until he had learnt it off by heart, and now he was humming it right through, properly. It went like this:

Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,

Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum.

Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,

Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um.

Well, he was humming this hum to himself, and walking along gaily, wondering what everybody else was doing, and what it felt like, being somebody else, when suddenly he came to a sandy bank, and in the bank was a large hole.

“Aha!” said Pooh. (Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum.) “If I know anything about anything, that hole means Rabbit,” he said, “and Rabbit means Company,” he said, “and Company means Food and Listening-to-Me-Humming and suchlike. Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um.”

So he bent down, put his head into the hole, and called out:

“Is anybody at home?”

There was a sudden scuffling noise from inside the hole, and then silence.

“What I said was, ‘Is anybody at home?’ ” called out Pooh very loudly.

“No!” said a voice; and then added, “You needn’t shout so loud. I heard you quite well the first time.”

“Bother!” said Pooh. “Isn’t there anybody here at all?”

“Nobody.”

Winnie-the-Pooh took his head out of the hole, and thought for a little, and he thought to himself, “There must be somebody there, because somebody must have said ‘Nobody.’ ” So he put his head back in the hole, and said:

“Hallo, Rabbit, isn’t that you?”

“No,” said Rabbit, in a different sort of voice this time.

“But isn’t that Rabbit’s voice?”

“I don’t think so,” said Rabbit. “It isn’t meant to be.”

“Oh!” said Pooh.

He took his head out of the hole, and had another think, and then he put it back, and said:

“Well, could you very kindly tell me where Rabbit is?”

“He has gone to see his friend Pooh Bear, who is a great friend of his.”

“But this is Me!” said Bear, very much surprised.

“What sort of Me?”

“Pooh Bear.”

“Are you sure?” said Rabbit, still more surprised.

“Quite, quite sure,” said Pooh.

“Oh, well, then, come in.”

So Pooh pushed and pushed and pushed his way through the hole, and at last he got in.

“You were quite right,” said Rabbit, looking at him all over. “It is you. Glad to see you.”

“Who did you think it was?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure. You know how it is in the Forest. One can’t have anybody coming into one’s house. One has to be careful. What about a mouthful of something?”

Pooh always liked a little something at eleven o’clock in the morning, and he was very glad to see Rabbit getting out the plates and mugs; and when Rabbit said, “Honey or condensed milk with your bread?” he was so excited that he said, “Both,” and then, so as not to seem greedy, he added, “But don’t bother about the bread, please.” And for a long time after that he said nothing⁠ ⁠… until at last, humming to himself in a rather sticky voice, he got up, shook Rabbit lovingly by the paw, and said that he must be going on.

“Must you?” said Rabbit politely.

“Well,” said Pooh, “I could stay a little longer if it⁠—if you⁠—” and he tried very hard to look in the direction of the larder.

“As a matter of fact,” said Rabbit, “I was going out myself directly.”

“Oh, well, then, I’ll be going on. Goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye, if you’re sure you won’t have any more.”

“Is there any more?” asked Pooh quickly.

Rabbit took the covers off the dishes, and said, “No, there wasn’t.”

“I thought not,” said Pooh, nodding to himself. “Well, goodbye. I must be going on.”

So he started to climb out of the hole. He pulled with his front paws, and pushed with his back paws, and in a little while his nose was out in the open again⁠ ⁠… and then his ears⁠ ⁠… and then his front paws⁠ ⁠… and then his shoulders⁠ ⁠… and then⁠—

“Oh, help!” said Pooh. “I’d better go back.”

“Oh, bother!” said Pooh. “I shall have to go on.”

“I can’t do either!” said Pooh. “Oh, help and bother!”

Now by this time Rabbit wanted to go for a walk too, and finding the front door full, he went out by the back door, and came round to Pooh, and looked at him.

“Hallo, are you stuck?” he asked.

“N-no,” said Pooh carelessly. “Just resting and thinking and humming to myself.”

“Here, give us a paw.”

Pooh Bear stretched out a paw, and Rabbit pulled and pulled and pulled.⁠ ⁠…

“Ow!” cried Pooh. “You’re hurting!”

“The fact is,” said Rabbit, “you’re stuck.”

“It all comes,” said Pooh crossly, “of not having front doors big enough.”

“It all comes,” said Rabbit sternly, “of eating too much. I thought at the time,” said Rabbit, “only I didn’t like to say anything,” said Rabbit, “that one of us was eating too much,” said Rabbit, “and I knew it wasn't me,” he said. “Well, well, I shall go and fetch Christopher Robin.”

Christopher Robin lived at the other end of the Forest, and when he came back with Rabbit, and saw the front half of Pooh, he said, “Silly old Bear,” in such a loving voice that everybody felt quite hopeful again.

“I was just beginning to think,” said Bear, sniffing slightly, “that Rabbit might never be able to use his front door again. And I should hate that,” he said.

“So should I,” said Rabbit.

“Use his front door again?” said Christopher Robin. “Of course he’ll use his front door again.”

“Good,” said Rabbit.

“If we can’t pull you out, Pooh, we might push you back.”

Rabbit scratched his whiskers thoughtfully, and pointed out that, when once Pooh was pushed back, he was back, and of course nobody was more glad to see Pooh than he was, still there it was, some lived in trees and some lived underground, and⁠—

“You mean I’d never get out?” said Pooh.

“I mean,” said Rabbit, “that having got so far, it seems a pity to waste it.”

Christopher Robin nodded.

“Then there’s only one thing to be done,” he said. “We shall have to wait for you to get thin again.”

“How long does getting thin take?” asked Pooh anxiously.

“About a week, I should think.”

“But I can’t stay here for a week!”

“You can stay here all right, silly old Bear. It’s getting you out which is so difficult.”

“We’ll read to you,” said Rabbit cheerfully. “And I hope it won’t snow,” he added. “And I say, old fellow, you’re taking up a good deal of room in my house⁠—do you mind if I use your back legs as a towel-horse? Because, I mean, there they are⁠—doing nothing⁠—and it would be very convenient just to hang the towels on them.”

“A week!” said Pooh gloomily. “What about meals?”

“I’m afraid no meals,” said Christopher Robin, “because of getting thin quicker. But we will read to you.”

Bear began to sigh, and then found he couldn’t because he was so tightly stuck; and a tear rolled down his eye, as he said:

“Then would you read a Sustaining Book, such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?”

So for a week Christopher Robin read that sort of book at the North end of Pooh, and Rabbit hung his washing on the South end⁠ ⁠… and in between Bear felt himself getting slenderer and slenderer. And at the end of the week Christopher Robin said, “Now!”

So he took hold of Pooh’s front paws and Rabbit took hold of Christopher Robin, and all Rabbit’s friends and relations took hold of Rabbit, and they all pulled together.⁠ ⁠…

And for a long time Pooh only said “Ow!”⁠ ⁠…

And “Oh!”⁠ ⁠…

And then, all of a sudden, he said “Pop!” just as if a cork were coming out of a bottle.

And Christopher Robin and Rabbit and all Rabbit’s friends and relations went head-over-heels backwards⁠ ⁠… and on the top of them came Winnie-the-Pooh⁠—free!

So, with a nod of thanks to his friends, he went on with his walk through the forest, humming proudly to himself. But, Christopher Robin looked after him lovingly, and said to himself, “Silly old Bear!”

LESSONS 16:14

Again, I just love this book. This story is so funny to me. But it also has quite a bit of emotion. And it introduces Rabbit, who I just think is hilarious. I love how it’s really clear, at least to me, that he does not want Pooh to visit. But once it's clear that Pooh is coming in, Rabbit is an excellent host. What a good friend! Let’s do some tiny lessons.

So, talking about Rabbit, let’s look at THE BIG PICTURE where I ask you about the story itself. Today’s question is: How do you know that Rabbit doesn’t want Pooh to come in? Take a minute, go back to that part of the story, and listen again.

Of course, at the beginning of the story, Rabbit says that nobody is home. Which, I have to tell you, I had to record that part about four times, because I find that conversation so funny.

And then at the end, there’s this great conversation where Rabbit is so polite, and such a good host, but he clearly just wants Pooh to go. Pooh says he must be going on, and Rabbit says….”must you?” So polite. Then Pooh tries to get a little more food, and Rabbit says that he, Rabbit, has to leave as well. THEN, even after all that, he still offers Pooh more food. He says, “Well, goodbye, if you’re sure you won’t have any more.” and Pooh says,

“Is there any more?” and Rabbit says, “NO.”

Rabbit is great.

Now, let’s go over to the DICTIONARY DISCO, where we talk about vocabulary. I’ve got two good vocabulary words for you.

The first one is STOUT, as in “Pooh was doing his stoutness exercises.”
Stout can mean a kind of beer, a very delicious one, but in this case it means, well, fat. Pooh is…kind of a big boy, as we saw in this story. It also means strong and thick, like an old tree could be stout. I think that’s why they call the beer “stout.” It’s pretty heavy stuff!
The second word is slender as in, “Bear felt himself getting slenderer and slenderer. Slender is like the opposite of stout. Thin, skinny or slim. But Slender has kind of an elegant sound to it. Slenderrrrr. Maybe you’ve heard of the famous video game, Slender Man? That guy is pretty slim!

How about YOUR vocabulary words? What words did you not know? What words have you looked up since you’ve been listening? Jump on the Discord. Share them!

Finally, it’s time for the MELODY MOMENT where we talk about pronunciation. Today I’m going to introduce you to the most important sound in English. It’s the most important because it’s the most common sound in the whole language. This sound is…..uh. That’s it. Uh. The interesting thing about this uh, whose name is….the SCHWA…. is that ANY vowel (AEIOU) can make it. For example, listen to these three words. And To The. There’s an A, an O and an E making the exact same sound. And the thing is, I didn’’t say AND, I said ənd. I didn”t say TWO, I said tə. I didn’t say THE, I said thə. So the schwa, it’s everywhere. Go back to any part of this podcast, or ANY podcast, and listen for schwas. Here’s my question: When do we use it? I’ll give you a hint, it has to do with the rhythm that I talked about last episode.

We use it when the word, or the part of the word is not strong in the rhythm. So like, can you swim? I said cən, not CAN. But how about this? Can you swim? Yes, I CAN. Strong CAN, strong A. Weak Can, schwa. This is kind of my obsession as an english teacher, we’re gonna come back to it a lot. For now, let’s go to the credits.

CREDITS 21:29

Thank you for listening to Season 1 Episode 2 of A Little English.

Every episode is produced entirely by me, Cooper Howland, here in Hiroshima, Japan.

For more information on how to study using this podcast, please go to www.alittleenglish.com, where you can get the Podcast User’s Manual.

You can follow me on social media, @alelearning on instagram and twitter.

To join the conversation and the community around A Little English, please go to our discord. There’s a link in the show notes.

Don’t forget to subscribe and leave a review on whatever app you’re using to listen.

The stories I read are in the public domain, and I get them from standardebooks.org, which is a really good website and you should check it out.

Again, thank you so much for listening.

For now, be kind to yourselves, and to each other.

Mentioned in this episode:

Listener Survey

Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter I: In Which We Are Introduced to Winnie-the-Pooh and Some Bees, and the Stories Begin

Edward Cooper Howland — Wed, 03 Aug 2022 21:00:00 +0900

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 1

Thank you for downloading the very first episode of ALE!

I'm very excited to begin this journey with you.

👉Check out some of the original art by EH Shepard:

Pooh and Christopher Robin coming downstairs.

"Under the name of Sanders"

Pooh hangs from his balloon

👉The story begins at 2:20 and the tiny lessons begin at 21:12

👉You can find the transcript after the Credits!

👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.

All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

TRANSCRIPT:

INTRO 0:00

Hi. My name is Cooper Howland, and this is…A Little English. Every episode, I read a short story. After the story, there are three tiny lessons.

If you’re really serious about studying using this podcast, please go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com. I’ve made a Podcast User’s Manual that can give you some ideas about how to study with podcasts. If you just want to listen, then relax and enjoy.

So, let’s get into this story. Today we are reading Chapter One of Winnie-the-Pooh by AA Milne. I’m really excited about reading this book. When I was a kid, my dad used to read it to me before bed, or when I was sick. I have some really great memories of this book, so I’m very excited to share it with you.

Now, this first chapter is a little confusing because it’s actually two stories. The first one is about a boy named Christopher Robin, and his stuffed bear, Pooh. Christopher Robin’s father is going to tell him a bedtime story. The second part is the story that the father tells. Then at the end, we return to Christopher Robin at bedtime. I hope that it’s not too confusing, but don’t worry. The rest of the stories aren’t like that.

In order to maybe make it easier, I’ve brought in a guest to help me tell this story. This is Tabatha TABBY WORDS and she’s going to be playing Christopher Robin.

And in the end, if the structure is too confusing, the best thing you can do is just….don’t worry about it! It’s a beautiful, funny little story. Just relax and listen to the melody and the rhythm of it. Enjoy yourself! Are you ready? Let’s begin.

STORY 2:20

In Which We Are Introduced to Winnie-the-Pooh and Some Bees, and the Stories Begin

Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it. And then he feels that perhaps there isn’t. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh.

When I first heard his name, I said, just as you are going to say, “But I thought he was a boy?”

“So did I,” said Christopher Robin.

“Then you can’t call him Winnie?”

“I don’t.”

“But you said⁠—”

“He’s Winnie-ther-Pooh. Don’t you know what ‘ther’ means?”

“Ah, yes, now I do,” I said quickly; and I hope you do too, because it is all the explanation you are going to get.

Sometimes Winnie-the-Pooh likes a game of some sort when he comes downstairs, and sometimes he likes to sit quietly in front of the fire and listen to a story. This evening⁠—

“What about a story?” said Christopher Robin.

“What about a story?” I said.

“Could you very sweetly tell Winnie-the-Pooh one?”

“I suppose I could,” I said. “What sort of stories does he like?”

“About himself. Because he’s that sort of Bear.”

“Oh, I see.”

“So could you very sweetly?”

“I’ll try,” I said.

So I tried.

—---------------------

Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Friday, Winnie-the-Pooh lived in a forest all by himself under the name of Sanders.

(“What does ‘under the name’ mean?” asked Christopher Robin.

“It means he had the name over the door in gold letters, and lived under it.”

“Winnie-the-Pooh wasn’t quite sure,” said Christopher Robin.

“Now I am,” said a growly voice.

“Then I will go on,” said I.)

One day when he was out walking, he came to an open place in the middle of the forest, and in the middle of this place was a large oak-tree, and, from the top of the tree, there came a loud buzzing-noise.

Winnie-the-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws and began to think.

First of all he said to himself: “That buzzing-noise means something. You don’t get a buzzing-noise like that, just buzzing and buzzing, without its meaning something. If there’s a buzzing-noise, somebody’s making a buzzing-noise, and the only reason for making a buzzing-noise that I know of is because you’re a bee.”

Then he thought another long time, and said: “And the only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey.”

And then he got up, and said: “And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it.” So he began to climb the tree.

He climbed and he climbed and he climbed, and as he climbed he sang a little song to himself. It went like this:

Isn’t it funny

How a bear likes honey?

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

I wonder why he does?

Then he climbed a little further⁠ ⁠… and a little further⁠ ⁠… and then just a little further. By that time he had thought of another song.

It’s a very funny thought that, if Bears were Bees,

They’d build their nests at the bottom of trees.

And that being so (if the Bees were Bears),

We shouldn’t have to climb up all these stairs.

He was getting rather tired by this time, so that is why he sang a Complaining Song. He was nearly there now, and if he just stood on that branch⁠ ⁠…

Crack!

“Oh, help!” said Pooh, as he dropped ten feet on the branch below him.

“If only I hadn’t⁠—” he said, as he bounced twenty feet on to the next branch.

“You see, what I meant to do,” he explained, as he turned head-over-heels, and crashed on to another branch thirty feet below, “what I meant to do⁠—”

“Of course, it was rather⁠—” he admitted, as he slithered very quickly through the next six branches.

“It all comes, I suppose,” he decided, as he said goodbye to the last branch, spun round three times, and flew gracefully into a gorse-bush, “it all comes of liking honey so much. Oh, help!”

He crawled out of the gorse-bush, brushed the prickles from his nose, and began to think again. And the first person he thought of was Christopher Robin.

(“Was that me?” said Christopher Robin in an awed voice, hardly daring to believe it.

“That was you.”

Christopher Robin said nothing, but his eyes got larger and larger, and his face got pinker and pinker.)

So Winnie-the-Pooh went round to his friend Christopher Robin, who lived behind a green door in another part of the forest.

“Good morning, Christopher Robin,” he said.

“Good morning, Winnie-ther-Pooh,” said you.

“I wonder if you’ve got such a thing as a balloon about you?”

“A balloon?”

“Yes, I just said to myself coming along: ‘I wonder if Christopher Robin has such a thing as a balloon about him?’ I just said it to myself, thinking of balloons, and wondering.”

“What do you want a balloon for?” you said.

Winnie-the-Pooh looked round to see that nobody was listening, put his paw to his mouth, and said in a deep whisper: “Honey!”

“But you don’t get honey with balloons!”

“I do,” said Pooh.

Well, it just happened that you had been to a party the day before at the house of your friend Piglet, and you had balloons at the party. You had had a big green balloon; and one of Rabbit’s relations had had a big blue one, and had left it behind, being really too young to go to a party at all; and so you had brought the green one and the blue one home with you.

“Which one would you like?” you asked Pooh.

He put his head between his paws and thought very carefully.

“It’s like this,” he said. “When you go after honey with a balloon, the great thing is not to let the bees know you’re coming. Now, if you have a green balloon, they might think you were only part of the tree, and not notice you, and, if you have a blue balloon, they might think you were only part of the sky, and not notice you, and the question is: Which is most likely?”

“Wouldn’t they notice you underneath the balloon?” you asked.

“They might or they might not,” said Winnie-the-Pooh. “You never can tell with bees.” He thought for a moment and said: “I shall try to look like a small black cloud. That will deceive them.”

“Then you had better have the blue balloon,” you said; and so it was decided.

Well, you both went out with the blue balloon, and you took your gun with you, just in case, as you always did, and Winnie-the-Pooh went to a very muddy place that he knew of, and rolled and rolled until he was black all over; and then, when the balloon was blown up as big as big, and you and Pooh were both holding on to the string, you let go suddenly, and Pooh Bear floated gracefully up into the sky, and stayed there⁠—level with the top of the tree and about twenty feet away from it.

“Hooray!” you shouted.

“Isn’t that fine?” shouted Winnie-the-Pooh down to you. “What do I look like?”

“You look like a Bear holding on to a balloon,” you said.

“Not,” said Pooh anxiously, “⁠—not like a small black cloud in a blue sky?”

“Not very much.”

“Ah, well, perhaps from up here it looks different. And, as I say, you never can tell with bees.”

There was no wind to blow him nearer to the tree, so there he stayed. He could see the honey, he could smell the honey, but he couldn’t quite reach the honey.

After a little while he called down to you.

“Christopher Robin!” he said in a loud whisper.

“Hallo!”

“I think the bees suspect something!”

“What sort of thing?”

“I don’t know. But something tells me that they’re suspicious!”

“Perhaps they think that you’re after their honey.”

“It may be that. You never can tell with bees.”

There was another little silence, and then he called down to you again.

“Christopher Robin!”

“Yes?”

“Have you an umbrella in your house?”

“I think so.”

“I wish you would bring it out here, and walk up and down with it, and look up at me every now and then, and say ‘Tut-tut, it looks like rain.’ I think, if you did that, it would help the deception which we are practising on these bees.”

Well, you laughed to yourself, “Silly old Bear!” but you didn’t say it aloud because you were so fond of him, and you went home for your umbrella.

“Oh, there you are!” called down Winnie-the-Pooh, as soon as you got back to the tree. “I was beginning to get anxious. I have discovered that the bees are now definitely Suspicious.”

“Shall I put my umbrella up?” you said.

“Yes, but wait a moment. We must be practical. The important bee to deceive is the Queen Bee. Can you see which is the Queen Bee from down there?”

“No.”

“A pity. Well, now, if you walk up and down with your umbrella, saying, ‘Tut-tut, it looks like rain,’ I shall do what I can by singing a little Cloud Song, such as a cloud might sing.⁠ ⁠… Go!”

So, while you walked up and down and wondered if it would rain, Winnie-the-Pooh sang this song:

How sweet to be a Cloud

Floating in the Blue!

Every little cloud

Always sings aloud.

“How sweet to be a Cloud

Floating in the Blue!”

It makes him very proud

To be a little cloud.

The bees were still buzzing as suspiciously as ever. Some of them, indeed, left their nests and flew all round the cloud as it began the second verse of this song, and one bee sat down on the nose of the cloud for a moment, and then got up again.

“Christopher⁠—ow!⁠—Robin,” called out the cloud.

“Yes?”

“I have just been thinking, and I have come to a very important decision. These are the wrong sort of bees.”

“Are they?”

“Quite the wrong sort. So I should think they would make the wrong sort of honey, shouldn’t you?”

“Would they?”

“Yes. So I think I shall come down.”

“How?” asked you.

Winnie-the-Pooh hadn’t thought about this. If he let go of the string, he would fall⁠—bump⁠—and he didn’t like the idea of that. So he thought for a long time, and then he said:

“Christopher Robin, you must shoot the balloon with your gun. Have you got your gun?”

“Of course I have,” you said. “But if I do that, it will spoil the balloon,” you said.

“But if you don’t,” said Pooh, “I shall have to let go, and that would spoil me.”

When he put it like this, you saw how it was, and you aimed very carefully at the balloon, and fired.

“Ow!” said Pooh.

“Did I miss?” you asked.

“You didn’t exactly miss,” said Pooh, “but you missed the balloon.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, and you fired again, and this time you hit the balloon, and the air came slowly out, and Winnie-the-Pooh floated down to the ground.

But his arms were so stiff from holding on to the string of the balloon all that time that they stayed up straight in the air for more than a week, and whenever a fly came and settled on his nose he had to blow it off. And I think⁠—but I am not sure⁠—that that is why he was always called Pooh.

—---------------------

“Is that the end of the story?” asked Christopher Robin.

“That’s the end of that one. There are others.”

“About Pooh and Me?”

“And Piglet and Rabbit and all of you. Don’t you remember?”

“I do remember, and then when I try to remember, I forget.”

“That day when Pooh and Piglet tried to catch the Heffalump⁠—”

“They didn’t catch it, did they?”

“No.”

“Pooh couldn’t, because he hasn’t any brain. Did I catch it?”

“Well, that comes into the story.”

Christopher Robin nodded.

“I do remember,” he said, “only Pooh doesn’t very well, so that’s why he likes having it told to him again. Because then it’s a real story and not just a remembering.”

“That’s just how I feel,” I said.

Christopher Robin gave a deep sigh, picked his Bear up by the leg, and walked off to the door, trailing Pooh behind him. At the door he turned and said, “Coming to see me have my bath?”

“I might,” I said.

“I didn’t hurt him when I shot him, did I?”

“Not a bit.”

He nodded and went out, and in a moment I heard Winnie-the-Pooh⁠—bump, bump, bump⁠—going up the stairs behind him.

LESSONS 21:12

Wow. I really love that story. It’s so funny and strange, but…cute? and it just makes me smile. I hope that you enjoyed it too. Now it’s time for three tiny lessons.

First, let’s look at THE BIG PICTURE where I ask you about the story itself. Today’s question is: Why do you think there are two different stories? The main part of the story is about Winnie-the-Pooh trying to get some honey. But at the beginning and the end there’s another story, about Christopher Robin and his father.

Why do you think that Milne, the author, wrote it that way? I know that I love it, because when I was kid, these were my bedtime stories. So it helped me imagine myself as Christopher Robin.

What do you think? If you look in the show notes, or on the website, there is an invitation to the Discord for this show. I hope you’ll go there and share your answers.

Now, let’s go over to the DICTIONARY DISCO, where we talk about vocabulary. I’ve got two good vocabulary words for you.

The first one is growly, as in “Now I am,” said a growly voice.
This comes from growl, which is the sound that a dog makes when it’s angry, like “rrrr”. So, I don’t think that Pooh is actually growling (grr) like a dog, but I tried to make my voice sound a bit growly when I was recording.
The second word is slithered, as in “as he slithered very quickly through the next six branches.
This word means to move like a snake, kind of sliding back and forth. Again, I don’t think that Pooh actually fell through the branches like a snake. I think he kind of slipped through the branches very quickly.

How about YOUR vocabulary words? What words did you not know? What words have you looked up since you’ve been listening? Jump on the Discord. Share them!

Finally, it’s time for the MELODY MOMENT where we talk about pronunciation. Since this is the very first episode, I’d like to explain what I mean by melody. In a song, a melody has two main parts: Rhythm and intonation. So today we’re gonna talk about rhythm. Think like the drums in a song. Here. Listen to those drums I made for the Dictionary Disco. Hear that “boots and cats?” That’s the rhythm of disco. Now, listen to this sentence: (Then he climbed a little further⁠ ⁠… and a little further⁠ ⁠… and then just a little...

A Little English - Coming Soon!

Edward Cooper Howland — Tue, 19 Jul 2022 21:00:00 +0900

This is the trailer for A Little English - Learn English by listening to stories. ALE is a new way to study English by yourself when you have the time.
We will release Season One very soon!
You can read the transcript after the credits.
👉Visit our website to download the Podcast User's Manual and find out more! https://alittleenglish.com/

A Little English is written, produced, recorded, edited, mixed, mastered and scored by Edward Cooper Howland.
All stories are either in the public domain, or written by me.
Copyright 2024 Edward Cooper Howland
Transcript:
What if the stories in your English course could make you laugh?
What if they could break your heart?
What if you just had to know...what happens next?
My name is Cooper Howland, and I'm an English professor in Hiroshima, Japan. I love teaching, I love English literature, and I love podcasts. So, I decided to combine all three into this show!
In each episode, I read a short story in English. Some of them are famous, some not-so-famous. Some of them I even write myself.
I choose the stories carefully and read slowly, so they're easy to understand. After each story, I teach three tiny lessons. Not too much, just A Little English.
If you go to my website, www.alittleenglish.com, you can connect with me, and you can download the Podcast User’s Manual, which will give you some ideas about how to study using the show.
I can’t wait to share all these great stories with you. See you soon!
Mentioned in this episode:
Listener Survey

A Little English

Forty Stories - "Alone"

forty Stories - "Mixtape"

Season 3 Episode 16

Forty Stories - "Brave"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 15

Forty Stories - "Shelter"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 14

Forty Stories - "Advanced Dungeons and Dragons"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 13

Forty Stories - "Scandalous"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 12

Forty Stories - "Play Ball"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 11

Forty Stories - "Two Thousand and One"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 10

Forty Stories - "Toxic"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 9

Forty Stories - "Great Blue Heron"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 8

See you soon!

Forty Stories - "Sentimental Items"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 7

Cooper's Sick! So Tabatha reads The Tale of Peter Rabbit, by Beatrix Potter

This is a special episode because Cooper's spring allergy arrived and he couldn't talk. So Tabatha read a very famous children's story for us: The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter

Check out the illustrations HERE.

Forty Stories - "Flow"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 6

SPECIAL GUEST HOST - Tabatha interviews Cooper!

Forty Stories - "Frog Pond"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 5

Part 2: Selling Point by Norman Arkawy

Part 1: Selling Point, by Norman Arkawy

Forty Stories - "Cold Feet"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 4

Forty Stories - "Mustang"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 3

Forty Stories - "Sleigh Ride Together"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 2

Forty Stories - "One"

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 3 Episode 1

Conversations with Tabatha (01)

'Twas the Night Before Christmas (A Visit from St. Nicholas) by Clement Clarke Moore

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 2 Episode 9

CLICK HERE FOR ILLUSTRATIONS OF THIS STORY

The Gift of the Magi, part 2 by O. Henry

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 2 Episode 8

The Gift of the Magi, part 1 by O. Henry

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 2 Episode 7

Part 2: Beyond the Door

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 2 Episode 6

Part 1: Beyond the Door

Season 2 Episode 5

Part 4: The Hanging Stranger

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 2 Episode 4

Part 3: The Hanging Stranger

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 2 Episode 3

Part 2: The Hanging Stranger

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 2 Episode 2

Part 1: The Hanging Stranger

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 2 Episode 1

Part Two: Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter X: In Which Christopher Robin Gives Pooh a Party, and We Say Goodbye

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 1 Episode 12

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter X

In Which Christopher Robin Gives Pooh a Party, and We Say Goodbye

Part One: Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter X: In Which Christopher Robin Gives Pooh a Party, and We Say Goodbye

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 1 Episode 11

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter X

In Which Christopher Robin Gives Pooh a Party, and We Say Goodbye

Part Two: Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter IX: In Which Piglet is Entirely Surrounded by Water

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 1 Episode 10

Part One: Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter IX: In Which Piglet is Entirely Surrounded by Water

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 1 Episode 9

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter VIII: In Which Christopher Robin Leads an Expotition to the North Pole

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 1 Episode 8

Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter VII: In Which Kanga and Baby Roo Come to the Forest, and Piglet Has a Bath

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 1 Episode 7

Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter VI: In Which Eeyore Has a Birthday and Gets Two Presents

﻿I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY Season 1 Episode 6

Winnie-the-Pooh Chapter V: In Which Piglet Meets a Heffalump

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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Season 3 Episode 15

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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Season 3 Episode 14

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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Season 3 Episode 13

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 12

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 11

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 10

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 9

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 8

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 7

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 6

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 5

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 4

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 3

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 2

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 3 Episode 1

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 9

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 8

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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Season 2 Episode 7

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 6

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 4

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 3

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 2

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 2 Episode 1

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 12

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 11

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 10

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 9

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 8

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 7

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 6

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 5

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 4

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 3

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 2

I'm doing a little survey to find out more about ALE listeners. There are just four tiny questions. It will only take a minute or two, and will help me a LOT! Please check it out. Thanks, Cooper
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CLICK HERE FOR THE SURVEY
Season 1 Episode 1