My niece asked me to tell her a story, so I told her the popular children’s fable, The Little Prince of Bel-Air:

Once upon a time, there was a young peasant boy named Will, who was born and raised in the small village of West Philadelphia. He spent most of his days frolicking in the woods and meadows; chilling out, maxing, relaxing in a coolish manner, throwing rocks through holes in the trees behind the monastery. One day, a couple of knights, who were up to no good, invaded the village and started wreaking havoc on Will’s family’s land. He got into one little joust and his mother grew scared. She told him “You’re leaving at once on a quest for your aunt and uncle’s castle in the kingdom of Bel-Air!”

Will whistled for his steed and when it came near, the saddle plating said “fresh” and had the most peculiar gear. It anything, he could say that this steed was rare, but thought better of it and, instead, called out “Yah! Homes! To Bel-Air!” Homes was the name of his steed, you see.

It was a long and arduous journey, but Will arrived at the castle of his aunt and uncle, late into the next evening. He placed his steed in the stables for the night – “Yo, Homes.” he reassured the animal. “Smell you later.” Will looked at his new kingdom. He was finally there! And in a short time, after defeating the King’s own son in a duel of both wits and brawn, Will would claim the throne as the new prince of Bel-Air.

Ah, but that is a story for another day…