L 196 F

The theory long held still persists in common knowledge that coffee cups are made and practically good for a very limited range of possible ways of uses: pouring some kinds of liquids from it, in the majority of cases, right into the human digestive system, through the mouth organ.

However, this extremely vague theory has been finally refuted to the utmost by a current occurence, which completely undermined the above mentioned very shaky presumption, proving that coffee cups are most suitable for much more far-reaching and vital goals than had ever been supposed before. That is, to point indirectly to the fact that there are certain things it is really worth living for.

It has all happened lately, a two-days' journey from here, that over a sunlit meadow of tiny daisies two andacious ladybugs were executing at times a bit clumsy but by all means admirable maneouvres, flitting wing in wing, turning and twisting as a steadfast blast of wind pushed them gently out of balance. It was their dearest field, where the scent of daises were overpowering and where the bright sunshine gilded the whole province, and especially, enchanced the healthy glitter of the numerous petite spots on their backs.

These two ladybugs were inseparable. They were always hanging out together since their very early years, usually wing in wing, which in fact gave the basis to backbiters spreading malevolent scandals in bug circles concerning the purity of their relationship but the real reason for this strangely strong affection was the fact that they had been born on the very same day, had gone to school, grown up together, and had got so much used to the pleasant company of the other that they were not ready even to open their membranic wings without each other.

But alas, how big the difference was between them!

One of them was brightly red with seven black spots on his back. He was a very joyful fellow, always on cloud nine, full of go, telling jokes and buzzing his favorite evergreens while flying and dangling his tiny legs to the beat of the rhytm.

The other ladybug was faded yellow and to his great despair there were no more but five spots on his pale wings. He was constantly so blue, humming heart- rending melodies and due to his almost chronic inferiority complex and extreme moodiness his legs were not moving vigorously like those of his friend's but rather looked as if there had not been circulating body fluid in them: they were hanging inanimated.

"Opposites attract each other"- says the proverb, and in fact it did prove out to be true in the world of ladybugs. These two were never wearisome. They constantly had something to argue about.

"It is easy for you," ejaculated the five-spotted from time to time, "it is so easy for you to be happy. You possess seven beautiful spots. And what is more, you are brightly red. Look at me, I am miserably five-spotted and faded yellow!"

"So what? It is not these spots that make one happy. It is life!"

"But what is the point of living when I have only five spots and on a faded yellow ground?" Hereupon the five-spotted ladybug bursted out in such a melancholic song that his ever joyful friend had to plug his ears in order not to let his good mood depressed.

This was how they wrangled and they were certainly not able to convince each other, yet, the brightly red ladybug was in for all to put his little buddy in a good humor.

Also now, as they were flying along, he exclaimed:

"Look how wonderful the sky is above us! The sun is shining warmly, there is not one cloud in sight. Life is all happiness."

"How can you be so naive? Do you really think that it is gonna last forever? Soon, when the cloudburst comes your joy will depart and we will be drowned in the enormous flood."

In this very instant, the sky lowered indicating the imminence, hulking thunderclouds banked up, blacking out the formerly bright blue horizone, and an immense flurry flooded them.

The colossal gale caught the two powerless ladybugs, hurling them into a chipped coffee cup which had been laying abandoned under the old oak tree for years. They knocked heavily as they fell to the bottom of it.

"I've told you!" exclaimed the yellow one with a terror-stricken voice. "We are done for! We are done for!"

And it was already raining cats and dogs.

"It is all up with us! This is the end of the world!" the final despair got control over him.
"We will survive, do not worry! We will surely survive!" shouted the brightly red ladybug to his friend while he was desperately sawing the water with his tiny legs in the ever increasing flood in the coffe cup, because the pouring rain made the water level increase at a terrifingly fast speed.

But the yellow one did not struggle at all. He abandoned himself motionless to the thought of mortality.

The huge drops of the cloudburst were waving the sea of rainwater in the coffee cup, the wind was also lashing the water and the two poor ladybugs were once under , once over it.

The brighly red one, when getting underwater, worked his way up to the surface at once with his sawing tiny legs, but his yellow buddy kept on staying motionless in the bottom, drowning, giving up all hopes of survival.

The deluge was raising ... and raising the water level only to fill it up and throw the struggling red fellow over the chipped rim of the battered coffee cup, right onto the wet grass.

When he regained consciousness, the sun was already high up in the sky, though the meadow of tiny daisies still reflected the recent fresh shower and the overpowering scent of the flowers was softened by the gentle smell of the rain.

His first thought was that of his yellow homey. Having flown above the coffe cup, he spotted his friend floating inanimated on the surface of the water, with his belly upwards.

Quickly, he dragged his friend to the rim of the chipped coffee cup and getting hold of him with his tiny legs, they landed on the grass. Straight away, he tried to revive him with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, in vain. Then all of a sudden, his famous happiness abandoned him. He bursted out crying over the motionless body of his dear brother and with a berry of woodbine he painted two black spots onto the faded yellow back.

"Good-bye, Sevenspotted!" he mumbled solemnly. "I wish you would have stayed Fivespotted. How many times have I told you that spots do not make one happy, only life?"

Then he paid the last honors to his always sad friend - he made seven circles above him in the air. One for every spot.

After this, as he decided to leave that place of misfortune, he heard a sudden fit of coughing and saw his brother struggling to get rid of the unnecessary rainwater in his body.

"Are you alive? Is it really true, dear ... ( Fivespotted, he wanted to say but then he remembered ) Sevenspotted?"

The faded yellow ladybug shuddered, spread his wings and ascended, high up in the air.

But marvel of marvels!

It seemed that he was moving his tiny legs while flying, undoubtedly, joyfully. And as if he had even been buzzing a merry song.

Surprisingly enough, this is what happened. The moral of this story, folks, is that no theories stand on safe grounds and that we should not let ourselves be blinded by so-called facts. We should always keep on proceeding towards the very aim to believe something only after we had made sure of it being so.