The Only Fable You'll Ever Need
A Fox, while walking in the forest, came upon a Robot, who bellowed mournfully and otherwise showed every sign of being in distress. The Fox, being wily, sought to see if he could profit from this unusual occurrence.
"Robot, why do you cry so?" asked the Fox.
"It is my paw, stranger," replied the Robot. "While upon shuffling through the selection at the used record shop whilst looking for old Smiths singles, a thorn has become lodged upon it, and I cannot get it out."
"Why have you not sought aid from another, then, mechanical man?" queried the Fox.
"All I have approached have fled, filled with terror at my frightful countenance and mistaking my cries of woe for those of mayhem and violence," lamented the Robot. This Robot, like most others, was apparently misunderstood.
"Lament no further, gentle steel golem, for I shall aid thee."
And verily, the Fox removed the offending splinter from the Robot's paw with a pair of needlenose pliers.
"My friend, I am forever in your debt," exclaimed the Robot, delirious with the joy only attainable by the alleviation of an affliction long endured. "If there is anything you desire, I swear to use all my power to obtain it for you."
The Fox, intoxicated with his own sense of cunning, delighted in the rewards of his foresight. "He has become my servant, little knowing I shall soon betray him," the Fox spoke inwardly.
"Follow me, friend," spake the Fox. "For I too am in need of assistance."
The two traveled to a gorge near the edge of the forest, where along the banks of a lazy stream grew winding vines, creeping up the face of the exposed basalt. Ripe grapes, a deep vermilion, glistened above their heads.
"My friend, please retrieve me those grapes, for I desire them," spoke the Fox.
"I thought you were telling me you didn't like grapes," countered the Robot.
"I changed my mind again, alright?..." spoke the Fox in an irritated low tone.
The Robot, shrugging, swept the grapes from their perch and handed them to the Fox.
Exulting in his victory, the Fox, having no further need of his metallic companion, and not wanting to share the sweet, sweet pussy grapes, stung him with his poisonous tail.
"What the hell?" ejaculated the Robot.
"You knew what I was when you befriended me," replied the Fox coldly.
"What?! You're a friggin' fox! You shouldn't even have a stinger! This doesn't make any goddamn sense," the Robot sputtered.
"And that is why... wait, why haven't you died yet?" asked the Fox, perplexed.
"I'm a fucking robot, you moron," replied the Robot.
Enraged by the perfidy of his companion, the Robot proceeded to beat the Fox's skull in with a tire iron.
Discovering that aiding his former friend in shuffling off his mortal coil had not satiated his vengeance, the Robot struck off on a white hot killing spree.
He happened upon the proverbial race of the tortoise and the hare, but found only the stalwart terrapin, for the hare, full of hubris at his commanding lead, had stopped by the local massage parlor for an erotic massage. So while the tortoise was being flattened to a bloody smear underneath the foot of the murderous automaton, the hare was getting his joint worked over by a young Croatian women named Anna.*
Witnessing this scene from afar ,a young mischievous sheephand, terrifying by this vision of B-Movie horror, ran to warn his friends and family that a raging automaton was murdering small animals in the woods. His relations, being gullible and having fallen for the youth's robot-related pranks one too many times, ignored him.
And verily, the Robot later beat them all to death.
THE MORAL: Just say no to drugs, children.
Also, that I found this funny enough not only to write down, but also proofread and revise, probably says something deeply unflattering about me.
* The fabulist encourages the reader to insert their own "speedy hare premature ejaculation" joke here.
"Robot, why do you cry so?" asked the Fox.
"It is my paw, stranger," replied the Robot. "While upon shuffling through the selection at the used record shop whilst looking for old Smiths singles, a thorn has become lodged upon it, and I cannot get it out."
"Why have you not sought aid from another, then, mechanical man?" queried the Fox.
"All I have approached have fled, filled with terror at my frightful countenance and mistaking my cries of woe for those of mayhem and violence," lamented the Robot. This Robot, like most others, was apparently misunderstood.
"Lament no further, gentle steel golem, for I shall aid thee."
And verily, the Fox removed the offending splinter from the Robot's paw with a pair of needlenose pliers.
"My friend, I am forever in your debt," exclaimed the Robot, delirious with the joy only attainable by the alleviation of an affliction long endured. "If there is anything you desire, I swear to use all my power to obtain it for you."
The Fox, intoxicated with his own sense of cunning, delighted in the rewards of his foresight. "He has become my servant, little knowing I shall soon betray him," the Fox spoke inwardly.
"Follow me, friend," spake the Fox. "For I too am in need of assistance."
The two traveled to a gorge near the edge of the forest, where along the banks of a lazy stream grew winding vines, creeping up the face of the exposed basalt. Ripe grapes, a deep vermilion, glistened above their heads.
"My friend, please retrieve me those grapes, for I desire them," spoke the Fox.
"I thought you were telling me you didn't like grapes," countered the Robot.
"I changed my mind again, alright?..." spoke the Fox in an irritated low tone.
The Robot, shrugging, swept the grapes from their perch and handed them to the Fox.
Exulting in his victory, the Fox, having no further need of his metallic companion, and not wanting to share the sweet, sweet pussy grapes, stung him with his poisonous tail.
"What the hell?" ejaculated the Robot.
"You knew what I was when you befriended me," replied the Fox coldly.
"What?! You're a friggin' fox! You shouldn't even have a stinger! This doesn't make any goddamn sense," the Robot sputtered.
"And that is why... wait, why haven't you died yet?" asked the Fox, perplexed.
"I'm a fucking robot, you moron," replied the Robot.
Enraged by the perfidy of his companion, the Robot proceeded to beat the Fox's skull in with a tire iron.
Discovering that aiding his former friend in shuffling off his mortal coil had not satiated his vengeance, the Robot struck off on a white hot killing spree.
He happened upon the proverbial race of the tortoise and the hare, but found only the stalwart terrapin, for the hare, full of hubris at his commanding lead, had stopped by the local massage parlor for an erotic massage. So while the tortoise was being flattened to a bloody smear underneath the foot of the murderous automaton, the hare was getting his joint worked over by a young Croatian women named Anna.*
Witnessing this scene from afar ,a young mischievous sheephand, terrifying by this vision of B-Movie horror, ran to warn his friends and family that a raging automaton was murdering small animals in the woods. His relations, being gullible and having fallen for the youth's robot-related pranks one too many times, ignored him.
And verily, the Robot later beat them all to death.
THE MORAL: Just say no to drugs, children.
Also, that I found this funny enough not only to write down, but also proofread and revise, probably says something deeply unflattering about me.
* The fabulist encourages the reader to insert their own "speedy hare premature ejaculation" joke here.