The Day Matchstick Man Asked a Question (and got an unexpected answer)

At times Matchstick Man was prone to a bit of pondering. Pondering didn’t usually get Matchstick Man anywhere fast, like a car or a skateboard might, but he liked it. Sometimes Matchstick Mum called him a dreamer, sometimes he didn’t move for hours, sometimes he walked into lamp posts, but still, he liked it.

Matchstick Man pondered a great many things like, for example, his ponderings about the moon which you know…well, they didn’t turn out too well. But anyway, sometimes he wondered if it would be a good idea to talk to someone about his thoughts. After all, all the great thinkers have, at some time, spoken their great thoughts out loud, otherwise no one would know about them. Matchstick Man wasn’t sure that he was a great thinker, but you never know until you try. It sounded like a mission, and if it wasn’t Matchstick Man would make it into one.

Now, Matchstick Man knew that with every mission you needed a clear objective; without it you might as well be a twig floating downstream. So he thought about it and decided that for this mission he needed two things:

1. A good thought, and

2. Someone to share it with.

Of course the thought was the difficult thing as, Matchstick Man thought, in order to be a great thinker your thought would have to be original, and groundbreaking. Now Matchstick Man thought about a lot of things but he was pretty sure that most, if not all of them were not groundbreaking or original, for example ‘what’s for dinner’, and ‘what’s that smell’, and ‘where did I put my socks?’ he thought would be fairly common thoughts. Then he thought, perhaps even his most profound thoughts might well have been thought before. How could he know? He wondered if, perhaps, there was such a thing as a Thinktionary that listed all the thoughts that had ever been thought. If there was then there was only one place it could be -Matchstick Man had to visit the library.

Now Matchstick Man loved the library with its rows upon rows of neatly stacked, variously coloured books, though in truth he found it a little bit overwhelming. Today was no different. He walked into the voluminous room, took one look at case after case, shelf after shelf, brimming, overflowing with words, thoughts, feelings, and he felt just a little dizzy. He wondered how much time it would take one person to read all of those words, absorb all of those thoughts, and he felt a bit more dizzy. He needed help. With some difficulty he stumbled over to the counter.

Miss Tree, the librarian, was doing something mysterious behind the counter. Matchstick Man wanted to wonder what it was that happened behind a library counter, but he thought that the answer might make him more dizzy, so he tried to think about something else. Miss Tree looked him up and down “Can I help you?” she asked.

Matchstick Man had to admit that he found Miss Tree just a little scary and enigmatic. She seemed very prim and proper but somehow he thought there was much more going on beneath the surface than immediately met the eye. Matchstick Man found this quietly disturbing. One day, Matchstick Man thought, he might get to the root of her strangeness, but for now he was on a mission and stick men on a mission need to be brave and focussed. Matchstick Man braced himself “I’m looking for a book about thoughts.” he said, smiling hopefully. Miss Tree looked him up and down again.

“This way.” she said with an enigmatic smile, and walked in the direction of the children’s section. Matchstick Man was confused until she placed in his hands a book called ‘Oh the thinks you can think’ by Dr Seuss. ‘Brilliant’ he thought, and opened it up.

After a few moments Matchstick Man came to the conclusion that this book was not exactly what he was looking for. He turned to Miss Tree, a little awkwardly and said

 "Thank you so much

for this lovely read
but I really don’t think
it’s this book I need;
I wonder if you
could help me to find
a book by a thinker
all a-bout the mind”

Miss Tree looked him up and down as though he had gone insane, quite frankly Matchstick Man thought she might be onto something. She turned again and marched over to a dark and dismal corner of the library. Matchstick Man followed. She pointed to a musty area, full of dark and dismal looking books, old and apparently untouched for some time. Matchstick Man looked at the sign ‘Philosophy’ it said. ‘Hmm’ thought Matchstick Man as he perused the rows of books, this may take some time.

Matchstick Man read and read. Some of the things he read didn’t make much sense, but he read them anyway, hoping, perhaps, that the words would somehow put themselves together in the right order in his mind and he would understand them. He read until it became dark. Miss Tree appeared behind him, a shadowed, disturbing presence. “It’s time.” she said, enigmatically.

“Time for what?” said Matchstick Man, a little unnerved.

“Time to go home, library’s closing.” Miss Tree said.

Matchstick Man had a difficult night’s sleep. He tossed and turned, thoughts, ideas burning through his mind. Dreams of people talking backwards in red rooms, a dancing dwarf, a giant leaning down, grasping ‘it’s happening again…it’s happening again’. Matchstick Man jerked awake. He rubbed his head. No more watching Twin Peaks for him. His mind was sparking. He realised something. There was something common between the philosophers he had been reading; they didn’t necessarily have all the answers but they all had really good questions. Matchstick Man smiled. He was brilliant at thinking of good questions. He mentally checked his list:

1. A good thought, A good question, and
2. Someone to share it with 

He thought until he came up with what he thought was a good question. Now the next question was who to share it with?

He thought it might be a good idea to start with Professor Pipette. He also thought that it was a good job it was morning and he was wide awake, so he might have a chance of understanding Professor Pipette. After about 10 minutes or so he realised how wrong he was. Professor Pipette, having duly considered the question, launched into an hour long exploration of the subject, without coming to any firm conclusions. Now Matchstick Man respected Professor Pipette, he really did, but the fact of the matter is that these scientists, well, they’re made differently. They talk about precision, facts, empirical measurement, proof and those kinds of things. Matchstick Man found it all quite overwhelming.

He left Professor Pipette no wiser than when he started. On the whole Matchstick Man was finding his mission a little bit wearing but then, he thought, if a mission was easy he guessed it wasn’t much of a mission. He wandered the streets a little aimlessly, clearing his mixed up head. After he’d been walking for a while he happened across his great friend, Pogo Stick.

Pogo Stick came from a different town, a place where people were a bit more sporty. The thing was, sports didn’t really suit Pogo Stick, he found them too aggressive and, on the whole, a bit too competitive. Pogo Stick was a chilled out kind of guy.

“Hey MM,” he said “whatcha doing?”

“I’m thinking great thoughts.” Matchstick Man said, and explained.

“Far out Man!” Pogo Stick said “So, what’s the question?” Matchstick Man told him. Pogo Stick sat down by the roadside “Hmm,” he said “hmm.”

The sun clicked through the sky like the hands on a clock. “Hmm,” said Pogo Stick “hmm.” Matchstick Man’s legs started to get a little tired. He wafted a hand in front of Pogo Stick’s face. No response. Quietly Matchstick Man crept away.

Matchstick Man felt dejected. He’d been thinking great thoughts for two days now yet still it hadn’t got him anywhere. Feeling a little sad he did the thing he always did when feeling a little sad. He went to see his Mum.

Matchstick Mum was in the kitchen making a pot of tea. She placed a plate of biscuits and a glass of milk in front of him. He chewed absentmindedly on an arrowroot. Matchstick Mum watched him carefully. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat down next to him, patting him gently on the knee. “What the matter, chuck?” she asked.

Matchstick Man sighed heavily “You know I like to think,” he said. Matchstick Mum nodded. “and I thought that perhaps I could become a great thinker, so I thought of a really good question but I just can’t seem to go the next step.” he sighed again.

“Well, what’s the next step?” Matchstick Mum asked.

“I need someone to share it with. I tried Professor Pipette…” Matchstick Mum raised her eyebrows (this was a common reaction when someone mentioned Professor Pipette) “…and I tried Pogo Stick, but neither of them were very helpful. I’ve thought and I’ve thought, and I can’t think of anyone else who I might be able to share my thoughts with.”

“Well,” Matchstick Mum said “could you share your thought with me?”

Matchstick Man looked at her curiously “But, I thought you weren’t interested in my thoughts.” he said.

Matchstick Mum laughed “Oh dearie,” she said “I’ve always been very interested in your thoughts, but you’ve always seemed to want to keep them to yourself.”

Matchstick Man was surprised. He’d always thought that Matchstick Mum had thought his ponderings a little bit silly but here she was saying she wanted to know them. Suddenly he felt better, and perhaps a little bit special. It gave him a warm feeling inside, more than the answer to any question, or any great thought ever had.

“Well,” he said, started “this is it…”

Matchstick Mum listened, and they talked, and they laughed, and drank lots of tea. In the morning Matchstick Man went back home, tired but happy. Before he left he hugged his Mum, “Thanks Mum,” he said “I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Matchstick Mum “thanks for sharing your thoughts with me. Perhaps we can do it again sometime?”

“Definitely,” said Matchstick Man “definitely.”