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There Ain't No Justice #45
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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #45 |
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- The Bedtime Story -
A Fable
by Kel'anth
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a farm. On this farm
lived Dog and Cat. They lived a pastoral life, Dog feeding the cattle,
sowing, plowing, reaping, and all that, and Cat catching mice, selling the
produce, and doing the taxes.
Every night, after their long day's work, Cat and Dog would go to bed
in their rooms in the farmhouse. Cat would always tell Dog a bedtime story
to help him forget his aching muscles and get to sleep, so he wouldn't
collapse the next day.
One night, as usual, Dog was lying in bed. He called, "Cat, please
come tell me a story!"
Cat finished his bath and eventually arrived. He then begin his story.
"Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a village. And the village
was in a beautiful green wooded valley, and in the woods lived lots and
lots of nice fuzzy animals: deer, birds, wolves, bears, boars, squirrels,
raccoons, chipmunks, and snakes." Dog started to protest, but cat quickly
said, "Fuzzy and SCALY animals, that is."
"In the village there lived, among others, a banker named Benny
Witherspoon. Benny had a hunting rifle and a knife collection, and he used
to go out and hunt boars. Everyone thought this was very nice and good,
except for the boars, who were a bit miffed."
"One day Benny got himself a submachine gun, and he went into the
woods and shot at least ten boars full of bullets, turning the green leaves
to miniature Italian flags with spatters of red blood and white brain
tissue. The boars were just plain fed up with this, so finally one snuck up
behind him and gored him to death, and ran off from his eviscerated
twitching body trailing a streamer of blood-soaked bowel from his left
tusk."
"The villagers discovered this, and, being all good villagers, even
though most of them thought Benny was a thief and a louse, they went out to
make retribution on the boars. They all took submachine guns with them and
wiped out all the boars and their wives and children, and many innocent
wild creatures who happened to be mistaken for boars or caught in the
crossfire."
"All the woodland creatures were greatly saddened by this, but they
soon found they didn't miss the boars all that much after all. They went
back to their peaceful, idyllic lives as creatures of the natural
wilderness."
"But then came the Plague. The village was completely destroyed by the
ferocious assault of disease that spread quicker than people could be
quarantined. The last man in the village, running sores all over his body,
oozing putrid purple pus in unbelievable quantities, was in great pain. To
end it all, he immolated himself and ran through the woods until he died,
setting them ablaze."
"The flames spread up and down the valley, engulfing every last tree
in billowing flames. The animals were all burned alive, but for one young
deer. This fellow wandered about the blasted landscape, looking for
anything to comfort him for the loss of his home and family."
"All he found were trees turned to ash, blackened skeletons, seared
flesh, embers, and rock and soil suffused with ashes. Ashes everywhere.
Nothing but ashes. No one to talk to, nothing to do. The valley was
surrounded by barren land as far as the horizon. There was nothing left for
the deer. He was lonely and he knew he must soon die of starvation."
"So the deer climbed up to the rim of the valley. He stood looking
over a cliff at the black scar that was once his home, and a tear slid down
his cheek. Then, with a running start, he hurled himself over the edge. His
life flashed before his eyes as he spun, flailing, through the air. The
ground came up to meet him in a final embrace. 'SPLAT!' went the deer, and
his blood and his brains and his entrails were spread across the rocks at
the base of the cliff in a thick, slick stain. The crimson mark he left was
the only color to be seen for miles around. The End."
"Gee," said Dog, "that was a sad story."
"Yes," said Cat, "it was sad."
Dog looked uncomfortable. "Isn't there, like, kind of...well, you
know, doesn't it have, ummm...a moral?"
Cat stared at him incredulously. "Moral? Pshaw!" Cat turned around and
walked away, shaking the dust from his left foot as he passed through the
door to indicate his disdain.
Dog had some trouble getting to sleep that night. The next morning, he
collapsed from exhaustion in the early afternoon and cost them a good day's
work.
The moral of this story is: Not every story has a moral, or even a point.
Some are more realistic.
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