Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was rarely content and whenever she did not like something she used a certain word. That word was ‘bleh!’. The word was a capacious and cavernous one - anything could be ‘bleh’: a clean table, a dish that looked green, and a game she did not win. ‘Bleh’ was great, and she used it often.
One day her mummy decided she needed to go outside and take a walk because she spent an awful lot of time in the house. Her mummy was horrible and she could make her do such horrible things as taking walks. And to make it even more bleh, it was in nature. The walks themselves were definitely ‘bleh’ — tiring, boring, and making her legs ache. Even the pain was bleh.
But away she went, feeling ‘bleh’.
First she encountered a blossoming tree. It was in her way. Bleh! Bam! She kicked it once but nothing happened. She kicked it twice. She kicked it thrice. She kicked it four times. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!, and… it toppled over. So forceful was its fall that the tree hit and toppled over another one and that one, another one, and that another one until all of the trees on the planet fell and lay quietly on the ground. And with them the birds and their nests. The birdsong and the excited flutter, which were positively ‘bleh’, were finally gone. She was pleased. The fewer ‘bleh’ things, the better.
Next she spotted a flower that she mistook for a nettle. But whichever plant it was, it was bleh. She pulled it out of the soil and threw it behind her.
Next, a strangely-shaped, chocolate-like thing lay in her path. She popped it in her mouth, chewed a few times… and discovered it was actually an earthworm. Bleh! She spat it out. “My grandpa’s apple pie tastes so much better!”
Next, a tiny spider crossed her way. “Bleh!” she exclaimed and crushed it under her shoe.
In the distance, majestic mountains loomed like a group of sleeping giants frozen in ice. The little girl squinted one eye, the little girl closed one eye, and chopped them down with the edge of her hand. “There!” she exclaimed when she tripped over a medium-sized stone. Quickly and with vengeance she proceeded to pulverise it with the heel of her boot. “Bleh!” she shouted and the stone turned to powder which the wind scattered all about the road.
Her walk was already too long, she thought. “It must have been 10 minutes already. 10 minutes too long.” She was tired and the Sun was making things worse. Of all the bleh things it did, the shining was the worst. From under her belt she drew a slingshot, found a stone that was as round as the Sun itself, and shot at it. The Sun burst into a trillion smithereens and was no more. “Great!” she thought, “I can finally go home because now it is cold and dark”.
On her way there she fell repeatedly, for the fallen trees made it difficult for her to proceed and the lack of sunshine made it difficult for her to see. Obstructions and darkness were ‘bleh’. But home she arrived, tired but content. From her bedroom window she could perceive the new world: barren and dark. Somehow she felt it was also ‘bleh’ but went to sleep without another ‘bleh’ thought - she was tired of walking around and saying ‘bleh’.
The very next day was a school day but the Sun was not shining so she got up late and missed school. Her parents also failed to wake up on time. After all, it was still dark! And it continued to be cold, almost freezing. She shivered and thought of having porridge with fresh strawberries for breakfast. Breakfasts like that were not bleh, especially if a jar of honey was poured on top of it. On entering the garden, she was surprised to find no strawberries. Neither could she gather any blackberries which were her second favourite non-bleh breakfast ingredient.
Something else in the garden arrested her attention: there was no scent, no buzzing, no bird song. All of the insects and flowers were gone. The place was quiet as a mouse. And mice were bleh.
This for her was a bit too much. She was hungry, cold, and could not see her way back home. This was definitely bleh. Maybe the Sun shining was not such a bleh idea? “I wish I could switch it back on,” she thought.
Frequently falling over and wandering, she found her way back home and talked to her parents. She confessed what she had done. Everything fell into place for them. They understood why the trees and rustling of their leaves were gone, why it was so cold, why their garden was in a state of devastation. It was their daughter’s bleh encounter with nature.
They had to do something! The girl said she wanted everything back to what it used to be: the Sun shining and warming her skin, the trees providing shade from it, the singing of the birds, and the sweetness of wild strawberries that grew on the meadows surrounding her house. She wanted to un-bleh the world and bring nature back, and maybe even take another stroll in it. Her daddy had an epiphany: perhaps apologising could help to un-bleh the world. But no, not of the general kind but one that is both sincere and aimed at the offended. Together they went outside - the Sun was to be the first thing to be un-blehed. The girl looked up and said: “Dear Sun, I am sorry for shooting at you. You are not that bad after all!” and the Sun, as if by magic, re-assembled, became round and orange like an…orange.
Now they could see what the world was like: the plants were on the ground, the fruit and vegetables half-rotten and stinking, and the fallen trees scattered everywhere. Over everything an ominous silence hung. “Let us un-bleh the plants next”, she declared. She spoke to the flowers nearby: “I am sorry for getting angry with a friend of yours. Can you get up, please?” And they did. Next, she managed to find the crushed spider’s carcass - it was brittle and dry, sad to behold. She got close to it and whispered: “I apologise for stepping over you. Well, I crushed you, to be exact, because I found you bleh. Can you go back to being scary, please?” And it did, and hurriedly ran away from her, fearing she may change her mind.
Finally, the trees! There were so many that even multiplying 10 by 10 would probably not give the girl the result corresponding to their number. She stood in front of one of them and said, “I am sorry for kicking you and making you topple over. You are not bleh, and I missed you. Can you go back to standing, rustling, and being a home for the birds, please? I may even climb you!” You can only imagine the crackling and groaning of millions of trees getting up that followed. They were un-blehed, and the birdsong spread across the world, delighting every ear.
“How about a picnic on the meadow?” asked her mummy. “We could watch the insects scurry by.” The little girl smiled. “I may not be ready for that yet, but I am happy to sit here underneath this tree and watch the clouds float by.”
And so, every day the girl went outside to see how her new friends—the trees, the birds, the flowers, and the Sun—were passing their days. She found them steady, cheerful companions for adventures and happy times. And oh, she completely forgot the word she had once used so often—so very, very uselessly. Now she knew that some things in the world were far too precious to ever call bleh again.