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This is Rhea. Welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People. Our story today, oh, that's my new

telephone. Ain't just installed it. What are you calling me? Hold on a sec. Hello?

Yes, that's me. Oh, a complaint. What kind of complaint?

Noise complaint. Not making noise. I'm telling stories.

Will who lodged this noise complaint? I see. Yes, well, I will have a discussion with them,

and I'm sure we can come to an understanding. You too. Well, it seems that the studio spiders

and studio beetles have lodged a formal noise complaint against me with the local podcast

studio noise regulation committee, which apparently is a thing. Look, this is a studio.

You chose to live here knowing that. So no, I cannot schedule my recording sessions around your

naps. You hear me? Oh, I think they're actually napping right now. Well, good. This is a bedtime

story after all. Let's get to it. It's called The Sleep Railroad Rides Again. Take it away,

Adley and Drake. Remember, there are no pictures. You have to imagine the pictures in your mind.

You can imagine them however you want. Okay, here we go.

Lamden was in basket weaving class. His teacher, Ms. Sunset, was lecturing on the importance of

selecting a proper pattern for one's basket. You must have a blueprint for your basket.

If you weave any old way, it will come out crooked. And I can tell you, if your basket is crooked,

it will never win any awards. My cousin learned that the hard way.

Lamden stared out the window, head in hoof. He wasn't de-dreaming. He wasn't thinking at all.

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