Once there was a Bard who loves to tell happy tales. He traveled all around the world to recite stories of adventures, of brave knights rescuing beautiful princesses, of young magicians who save kingdoms, of flying people who live amongst clouds and stars. Everywhere he went, people gathered around him, old and young alike, to be mystified by his charming voice. When he sighed everyone would sigh too, when he yelled everyone would feel fire erupted inside their heart.

His name shone throughout the continent, until the King himself invited him to live in his grand castle. But the humble Bard refused. He preferred to continue on his journey through the land and sea, to entertain everyone he met. To spread the smile he saw on people's faces.

But then came the time when people got bored with his tales. Everyone started to demand for tragic stories, of wars raging in faraway lands, of houses burned down by tyrants, of culprits and robbers and slayers who lurked the night. The Bard tried to recite heartbreaking stories, but he could not utter one word. For he believed people deserved joyful stories to enlighten their lives.

Days gone by and fewer people listened to him. Everywhere he went only bored expressions he got from people. No more smiles anywhere. Then one day people stopped listening to him. No more invitation from the King, no more free bed at inns, no more food nor drink. The Bard was left alone, sad and broke.

One day there was an audition for a storyteller at an inn near where the Bard lived. Desperate for once again spreading his tales of smiles and sunshine, the Bard joined the throng who lined up outside the inn. He, who once had been invited by the King himself, must stand in line along others! But he suppressed the feeling and waited patiently.

Finally, 71, his number, was read aloud by the innkeeper's daughter. Hopes bloomed out in his heart when he entered the inn. Maybe finally he could see again the smiles on people's faces.

The innkeeper sat on a stool in the middle of the common room, facing an empty stage. His bored expression was plain. Without a word he signaled the Bard to take his place on the stage.

Feeling he was home at last, the Bard recited his tales perfectly, of brave knights rescuing beautiful princesses, of young magicians who save kingdoms, of flying people who live amongst clouds and stars. He whispered and sighed and shouted and even sang. Finally when he finished, he looked up expectantly at the innkeeper.

'Do you have sadder tales?'� was all the innkeeper said.

The Bard was heartbroken. He pulled out his knife and stabbed it right into his chest.

'How about this?'� he shrieked. 'A grim tale about a bard who kills himself because nobody wants to listen to his stories anymore because they are simply not SAD enough!'�

'Too cliché,'� replied the innkeeper. 'Next!'�

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