Once there were two thumbs, one on the left hand and one on the right. Every evening, when work was done, they would amuse themselves by twiddling, sometimes for hours. Around and around they'd go, dancing in circles, always keeping perfect time, and never getting bored. They were very happy.

But then, one night, the left hand thumb announced that it was no longer satisfied. "Can this be all there is to life?" it asked. "Twiddling around in circles? It all seems so pointless."

The right hand thumb didn't know what to make of this strange comment. "I don't know," it said, "I always enjoy twiddling. I think it's a very pleasant way to while away the night-time hours."

"I know it's fun," said the left thumb, "but it isn't enough. I want something else. I want more..."

They sat and thought for a few minutes. Then, the left thumb broke the silence and said: "I know. We need a hobby. Something that's useful. Something that actually gets things accomplished."

"Like what?" asked the other.

"Oh, I don't know. How about... sewing?"

And so, the two thumbs purchased a needle and thread, and set about stitching a pair of white gloves. The right thumb steered the needle and the left held the material.

It went well for a while, and the left thumb was very satisfied. But then, when the first glove was about half-way finished, a terrible accident occurred. Just as the right thumb was guiding the needle through one of the last stitches on the glove's index finger, it slipped and the sharp point fell and pierced the middle of the front side of the left thumb.

The left thumb yelped in pain, and tiny drops of blood began dripping onto the half finished glove. The glove fell to the floor, the injured thumb was bandaged, and that was the end of sewing.

But the left thumb was still dissatisfied. The next evening, it again refused to twiddle. Instead, it decided that it was time to take up cooking.

"Cooking?" protested the right thumb. "We don't know anything about cooking."

"It's never too late to learn," said the left thumb, and soon they were in the kitchen, preparing the sauce for what promised to be a tasty pasta dish.

All went well at first. They chopped the tomatoes without incident, and had no difficulty at all cutting the garlic. It wasn't until they got to the onion that the accident occurred.

They peeled off the skin, and successfully carved out the rind. The left thumb held the vegetable firmly and the right thumb guided the knife. At first it was simple to cut out thin slices. But as they neared the end, and the onion got smaller and smaller, it became more difficult. Sure enough, just as they were almost finishing, the right thumb lost its grip. The knife slipped and carved deep into the side of the left thumb.

"Aurgh!" it cried, and after another band-aid was put on, no more was said about cooking.

But still, the next night, it wouldn't twiddle.

"Oh, come on," said the right thumb, "be reasonable. If we try anything else, you're just going to get hurt again."

"No, no," said the left thumb. "The trick is to find something safer. Something without anything sharp. Hmm... I know! How about carpentry? Even you can't be so inept as to cut me with a saw!"

So carpentry it was, and the two thumbs set about building a bookcase. The left thumb was right, and nothing whatsoever went wrong as they were sawing apart the wood. The sanding also proceeded without incident, and soon all the pieces were prepared. Then it was time to put them together.

The left thumb held the nail, and gave directions. "All right now, steady. Be sure you drive it in straight."

The right thumb pulled the hammer back and brought it down slowly a few times, testing the angle. When it was satisfied, it pulled back again, hesitated, and then slammed down at full speed, smiling grimly.

Bam!!!

Next evening, the right hand thumb asked its friend once more if it was ready to twiddle again.

The left thumb looked over its bruised, swollen, bandaged body. "Well," it said slowly, "yes. Yes, I suppose I am. I've always enjoyed twiddling, you know. And, after all, it's best to stick with what you know. I... I think twiddling is a fine thing... Really..."

And so, they resumed their old habit. Around and around they danced, in graceful, swooping arches, and smooth, perfectly timed curves. It was a joy to be part of, and a pleasure to behold.

For all I know, they're twiddling still.