One dismal morning a proud little bird sat eating a piece of cheese. This must be distinctly understood or nothing good can come of the story I am about to relate. Did the fox know he was proud? Of course he did. He and the proud crow were neighbors for years.
And on this morning when the crow was sitting on his usual branch, the fox edged his way until he was standing directly below the crow. Smoothing his coat, licking his lips and clearing his throat, he called up to the proud crow in a voice as sweet as butter, “My, how well you look this cloudy morning!” But the crow could not reply because of the piece cheese.
“Your eyes could make angels sing,” continued the black hearted fox, “and your feathers--how black and glossy they are!”
The crow was ever so pleased. And her chest which was swollen to an enormous size with pride. “And I’ve been told that your voice has put all the other birds to shame. And if I could hear you sing I would be satisfied with my life. Please, please sing. Will you?” the Fox inquired.
This was too much for the crow, and she opened up her mouth and let out a screech that made the bugs shrivel in their socks. But as she did so, the cheese fell, tumbling, rolling, spinning, and falling through the air and right into the fox’s gaping mouth. “Thank you ever so much,” called the fox, “Your song was so awful it could have woken a door nail from the dead--but your cheese was delightful!” And with that he trotted into the woods.
No comments:
Post a Comment