Moppo was a sweeper in the village market. He made scarves in his spare time. No one wanted the scarves. He handmade them. They were amateur scarves. But he knitted and stitched and wove them. That's got to count for something right? Moppo wanted people to keep warm for when the cold time came.
"Hello I make scarves for cold necks like you." He said to people.
"Oh that's nice. I don't need a scarf." said people.
"I make these scarf all the time. Maybe someone would like to buy?" Moppo told his friends.
"Oh they seem pretty." People said with passing disinterest.
"If you don't want to buy, maybe you will take?" said Moppo.
Scarves are just not very interesting to people. Moppo tried to spice up scarves. Maybe a new color would work. Maybe a pattern. Maybe take a risk with new types of scarves. Maybe he could experiment with making a scarf itchy?
"I try very hard to make these scarf." Moppo told people.
"Oh, well don't wear yourself out, hehe." said people.
"Hey, I make special scarf. This scarf actually very itchy!" said Moppo to a lady.
"Why would someone want an itchy scarf?" said the lady.
"Because..." Moppo wasn't sure how to answer. He was certain it was an exciting idea when he made it, but when face to face with the incredulous lady who thought itchy would be bad, Moppo felt discouraged.
Moppo was desperate for people's approval of his scarves. Surely, the people would love them. His scarves are different from plain scarves. Some scarves are practical. Not perfect, but everyone needs scarves!
Moppo asked to meet with his dear friend Schmutzie. Schmutzie was busy, but loved to eat, so Moppo asked Schmutzie to meet him at a diner so he could share his stress on the situation. They met, but unfortunately the diner was working on removing the floor that evening. Moppo tried to explain his sadness about his scarves, while a large group of men chiseled each individual floor tile.
"Clink-clink-chank-clink-pink!" said the floor chiseling.
"No one seem to want my scarf. I make it all by myself." complained Moppo.
"I cannot hear you!" said Schmutzie, as he shoveled flakey wet potatoes with oil into his mouth. That was a popular, but messy appetizer.
"I try to get people to be interested. Am I wasting my time?"
"It's loud in here! Geez my neck is cold too!" shouted Schmutzie, over the clinking.
"Why don't you take one of my scarf?" said Moppo as he held up one of his scarves.
Schmutzie grabbed the scarf and wiped his oily flakey mouth off, along with his greasy fingers.
"Hey nice napkin!" said Schmutzie, "Listen, I can't hear you very well. I'm going to go, it's too loud. Always a joy to see you though, Moppo my friend."
More time went by and Moppo kept making scarves, almost hopelessly.
"It's chilly around my neck area." said a person.
"Scarf?" he'd mumble to the person.
"Eh, it's almost warm season." said the person.
Moppo dragged his feet and broom.
"Everyone don't care about my scarf." said Moppo.
"I think ye scarves is kindy nice."
Moppo's face lit up. He turned around and was taken with elation, then fear, then crestfallen and disheartened, but then a slight optimism. It was Schmatta the Witch.
Schmatta was oozy and bumpy and craggy and baggy. She was grizzled and crackly. Phlegm clung to her vocal cords when she spoke, creating a heckish quality. She smelled. The town didn't like her. She was a witch. She was mean too. She caused a couple of peoples' flower beds to wilt, and she turned one lady's child into a hen for a summer. But she generally was considered to have good taste, albeit, she did not push her opinions on people, so there would be little promotion for Moppo on her end, but Moppo recognized that this was something. He smiled.
"Thank you. Would you like?" said Moppo.
Then she turned Moppo's left foot into a hoof. He walked with a half "clop" noise from then on.
"I'm too hot. Keep it up, though!" said Schmatta the Witch. As she crawled off into the bushes.
It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for Moppo.