There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.
"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.
Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat.
So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal's office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears.
"Billy!" she called, sobbing, "I was so worried about you! What happened?"
"Mom," Billy cried, "Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal's office and the principal suspended me, all because I don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy."
Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name.
Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I'm out here, Billy."
It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.
The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: "Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I'm up here, Billy."