Saint Valentine’s Day is a very special day. Many people all over the world celebrate Saint Valentine’s Day. Big people, little people, old people, young people, pirates and gold prospectors all love the merry day. But not too many people know about origins of the holiday and the one who began it all.

This is the story of Saint Valentine.

There once was a very little boy who lived in a very little town. They were perfect for each other. The boy’s name was Steve and the town’s name was Valentine. Sometimes, people called the boy “Steve, you know, that kid from Valentine”. Steve was very shy which made the other little children feel uncomfortable around him and call him names like “Stink, the Ugly Kid”, or “Stink-Bomb-Ugly-Face”. This only made Steve even more shy. His mother would compensate for his state of social ineptitude by smothering him in maternal love and pastries. Before long, Steve had terrible blood pressure and an unhealthy attachment to his mother. Steve then left home at the tender age of thirty five to make a life for himself. “Goodbye mother, goodbye sweet, sweet pastries.” He said as he said goodbye to his mother and her pastries.

Steve went to the very big city that was by the ocean. Steve had always wanted to be close to the ocean ever since he first ate one of his mother’s homemade salt water taffies while school children chanted “Are you some horrific sea venturing creature?” over and over again. Steve wanted to get over being shy. Steve also wanted to be near the ocean. As a perfect solution, Steve joined the Navy. He looked very keen in his white dapper uniform.

Many times people would say to Steve, “You think you’re pretty hot stuff don’t you?” and he would give a little wink and a snappy salute and another little wink. His bunk mate on the boat would always say to Steve before a weekend pass at port, “Go have a great time, Rudolf Valentino.” And Steve would say, “My name is Steve for the thousandth time. But, strangely enough, I am from Valentine.” And then he’d give a little wink and a snappy salute and another little wink. While in the Navy, Steve formed three strong friendships: a seagull he saw once by an island, the picture of his mother that he had tattooed on his chest himself, and his pillow which he wet with bitter tears every night.

Finally, Steve shot himself in the foot with a harpoon to get out of the Navy. Steve returned to the big city by the ocean. Though his love for all things nautical had grown cold, he still enjoyed the briny smell and the memory of the seagull he’d seen. One day at a quiet out of the way bistro, Steve fell madly in love with an incredible little number called a “Frappie”. Steve admired the coffee based drink for its zing and its zip and was wild over its sass and attitude. It was at another not so quaint and not so out of the way bistro that Steve fell in love once again. This time it was with a woman named Candy. Steve approached her and asked for money.
“Get a job, you horrific sea venturing creature.” She said.
Steve liked her zing and zip.
Steve asked her what her name was:
“Candy.” She said.
Steve asked if that was because she ate a lot of candy:
“Actually, I can’t. I’ve got life-threatening diabetes. But thanks for bringing it up, puke face.” She said.
Steve liked her sass.
Steve asked her if she would marry him and she pretended to dry heave. Steve liked her attitude.

Their love blossomed over the next weekend and with Candy’s persistence, they soon married in a bistro that was near the bistro they had met in, but was more like the bistro Steve had met Frappies in. Steve and Candy soon had a large loving family.

Of their children, one they found in a basket left on the front porch, one they found in the oven and looked like a bun, one they found floating in a basket in the river, one was dropped down the chimney by a stork, and one just appeared levitating in their backyard and had no belly button.

“Looky here, Steve” Candy said, “We’ve got a whole week of kids!” This was because at that time there was five days in a week.
Steve said, “Let’s hope our huge and really loving family always stays just like it is and no one ever adds any days to the week so we can always say we’ve got a ‘week of kids’. We will always be together, in perfect, flawless matrimonial bliss. I love you Candy, more than any words a poet may pen. You are my life, Candy. I will love you forever.”

A week later, Candy left Steve for an out of work circus clown with a terrible, hacking cough.
“Why Candy? Why? Why?” Wailed Steve.
“I need a man who laughs at my jokes.” She said.
“Was that a joke?” Steve said.
“Nope.” She said.

Five days later, Steve’s children left him while they had told him they were going out to buy cigarettes. They left him a note on the kitchen table which read:

“Told you we were buying cigarettes. Partially true. We are, but we are never coming back. Please disregard every time we ever told you we loved you.

Yours truly, your children.
P.S. If you ever see Mom again, tell her we love her very, very much.”

For the next nine days, Steve’s whereabouts were unknown. Some said that he lived in a cave where he harbored a sick turtle with a low birth weight he called his “Precious.”

He later reappeared in Valentine only to find his mother had died the previous night in an attack of angina and four badgers and a bat. Steve felt very alone. Steve took to spending many lazy afternoons by Valentine’s river where in his eye one could almost see the reflection of the ocean. One day, a servant girl came to the river to wash her cruel master’s clothes. Her beauty was unparalleled and her hair the color of burning heather.
“Whatcha doin’?” Steve asked.
“Washing my cruel master’s clothes.” She said.
“Really?” Steve said, “That’d be cool.”
“Washing clothes in a river?” She asked.
“No, being a cruel master.” Steve said, watching her get a really tough stain out of a coon skin hat.
“Hey, that gives me an idea!” Steve said. “Whatcha say we get married?”
“Well…” She said, “you sure a different fellow aren’t you?”
Steve laughed and laughed. She stared at him silently.

Eight hours later the two were married in Valentine’s second oldest bistro which was not as nice as the other bistros, but served great scones. “They’re like big funny cookies.” Steve said.

Their marriage produced no children, nor did they have a home to call their own. Instead, they moved in with her cruel master who got along famously with Steve. As the two grew older, they only grew closer and could hardly be separated. When they played horseshoes, each would purposely miss each toss to save the other the terrible shame of losing. Also, each would lie if the other asked if they were getting fat. Apparently, in this matter she lied very well, for it was two months after their wedding night that Steve died of morbid obesity. It turned out that all the years of pastries and salt water taffy had weakened his metabolism and the scones were just too much for his belabored heart.

She was as faithful to him in death as she had been in life. She visited his grave everyday for the next three weeks of her life before finally being struck down in an attack of gout, a badger, a spider, a leprechaun, and a bat. In her last will and testament she requested that all of their meager belongings be given to Steve’s five children, should they ever be found.

All the townsfolk said of her in her passing, “That woman put up with him like a saint. The woman was a saint. A true saint!” Because of that, and coupled with the fact that no one knew her real name, she became known as Saint Valentine. Throughout the little town of Valentine all remembered her by celebrating the day Steve first met her by the river- January 21. However, through the years, two more days were added to the week, Tuesday and Friday, so the date is now correctly reckoned at February 14.

Children originally celebrated the holiday by leaving small wooden shoes by the fireplace, so that during the night “Saint Valentine” could throw the shoes into the fire to warm the house and the hearts of the young. Sadly, today the little town of Valentine is gone and the townsfolk have long passed away, but it is said that the story will forever be told as long as there is love.