The Little Grain of Rice

The Little Grain of Rice — based on a story my mother made up long ago — is becoming increasingly infamous and popular. My oldest nephew recounted it in a speech class (much to the horror of his teachers). My second-eldest nephew tells it to entertain friends on long bus trips.

Each time the story’s told, it never fails to horrify.

I’m the author of the story in its present form, and began telling it about four years ago. Now that more than one hundred people have heard it, I figure it might not be long before The Little Grain of Rice shows up at the Barnes and Noble as the latest children’s book by a B-list celebrity. So: I’m posting it here, as documentation that I’m the author … the guy whose twisted mind sharpened the tale into the psychological dagger it has become.

Please note: The Little Grain of Rice, while structured as a children’s story, is not a tale for young children. Part of the horror of this piece, in fact, comes from imagining what kind of adult would tell such a tale to kids in the first place.

Read it and share it at your own risk. The story is deliberately constructed to play on one of our deepest fears. It works because, as adults, we recognize in The Little Grain of Rice a dark little grain of truth.

Once upon a time, in a rice paddy in China, the Little Grain of Rice was born. As he grew, he dreamed big dreams. “I wonder what I’ll be?” he wondered aloud. “Will I be sent to save a starving child? Will I become an essential ingredient in a gourmet dish? Will I become part of a delicious rice pudding?”

Soon, the harvest began. “This is it!” squealed the Little Grain of Rice. “The moment I’ve been waiting for! Perhaps I’ll become part of a delicious soup! Maybe I’ll appear on the largest tray of the world’s largest buffet!” Packed in huge sack with millions of other grains of rice, the Little Grain of Rice felt an excitement that knew no bounds.

Eventually, The Little Grain of Rice found himself in a supermarket. “So this is to be my destiny!” he mused. “I will become part of a hot, homemade meal served to a smiling family!” He imagined the anticipation of the hungry children, and wondered how his own wholesome goodness would complement the flavor of the main dish.

Minutes later, a housewife made her way down the aisle, shopping for rice.

“Pick me!” shouted the Little Grain of Rice. “Pick me!”

And so she did.

Later, the housewife pulled the bag of rice out of her cabinet and began to prepare the evening meal. The Little Grain of Rice could hardly contain himself. “This is it!” he thought. “This is my moment! Now, I am about to become what I was always meant to become! I’m on my way to fulfill my destiny!”

The woman tilted the bag, pouring rice into her measuring cup. As she did so, the Little Grain of Rice tumbled through the air, falling forward in a graceful arc.

At the last minute, the Little Grain of Rice smacked into the rim of the cup. He rebounded in the opposite direction, skittered across the countertops, fell into the skink … and went right down the drain, never to be seen again.

The moral of this story, children?

Don’t have dreams.