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Rated: E · Fiction · Folklore · #1776847
A tale that enforces the common sense term, "Life's not fair."
There are great and many things that make this world both wonderful and horrible, and if it were all fair, there certainly wouldn't be any good stories to tell because there would be no adversity to conquer.  A storyteller, for instance, knows full well that a farmer grows more food than he does, a banker knows more about money than he does, and he even knows there are greater storytellers than him.  Most regular people have common sense, therefore they understand that life doesn't always turn out the way you want, but your not defined by how fair or unfair you life was:  you are defined by your goals, your dreams, and your ability to brush excuses to the side, take responsibility for your actions, and have the audacity to never quit...
         Of course, not everyone are like regular people.  Some are rulers, who have more problems no one should be envious of, and others are... well... philosophers.  If I may be so bold as to say this about philosophers:  a few of them can contribute small portions to society, in small ways, but all in all, most philosophers have a great many smart things to say, which aren't really smart at all.  For example, I once met a philosopher who explained and argued, in great detail and with big words, that if we all stood on our heads for ten minutes, there would be no wars.  I couldn't pass up the opportunity to tell him the tale of two countries who fought an entire war standing on their heads, swiping swords with their feet.  He got mad, though, and called me a low-functioning ape, which hastened me to ask him if he knew any high-functioning apes.
         It was after that experience that I decided to think up a very unusual tale of a philosopher who got his way, and how a storyteller ended up being the hero, for a change.  The tale begins something like this:

*

In a faraway city, there was a market place which people from far and wide came to buy and sell all sorts of goodies, trinkets, and doodads.  There wasn't just the latest shopping, either.  A wide range of entertainment was to be had from music to performance, from sports to races, and from magicians to storytellers.  Certainly, if there was any place to be for the finest and the best, it would be this city's market place
         Now, a ways from the market, still in the city, there was a quiet, dusty school.  The person who ran this school was a very well known, very highly respected philosopher.  Kings and queens came from far and wide to hear his enlightening discussions, and he managed to obtain a handful of students to become his disciples.  However, the philosopher was not happy because it wasn't enough to teach the small few the things they should be thinking of:  he wanted to expand his discipleship to include everyone in the city.  The problem with that goal, in his mind, was the market place.
         Everyday he'd walk through the market and become depressed because, according to his big brain and enlightened eyes, merchants were making their coin from the ignorant masses.  I must point out the particular flaw in his thinking, lest others become soft enough to fall for the same intellectual trap:  It is a very dangerous thing to convince yourself that you are smarter than everyone else because you forget that you are just as human as the ignorant little consumer of the market place.
         One day, as the philosopher made his way past the market place, he finally became so depressed that blew into a loud horn to stop everyone in the market dead in their tracks.  After catching their attention, the philosopher gave a passionate speech, "Don't you all see the injustice that is being wrought here?!  Merchants take your coin and become rich and fat while you all get your food and trinkets, never expanding your horizons to enlightenment.  All the while, you also ignore how unfair you're being to the poor and desolate and hungry."
         The crowd couldn't help but gather round and listen to the philosopher's speech, which began with the problems he saw, intriguing them and making them think.  Then he started explaining his solution to this problem:  in a nutshell, he explained how the people could live a safe, secure, and fair lifestyle through paying their share through taxes, that would then go to the less unfortunate.  When he said this, the crowd was just as passionate as he was, and would have marched with him straight to the king so rich merchants could pay their fair share, if a storyteller hadn't quieted the crowd with a small, quiet flute, catching the crowds attention seamlessly.
         Putting away his flute, the storyteller began, "This reminds me of a simple story about bear who thought every animal should eat the same amount of berries as he did, because that was fair.  He convinced the squirrel to eat the berries, and the squirrel ate the berries and became sick.  He convinced the eagle to eat the berries, and the eagle ate berries and became very sick.  He convinced one animal after another, making each sick to their stomachs with too much berries until, finally, he tried to convince a wolf to eat berries, but the wolf refused.  The bear, who thought he should be fair to every animal, no matter what, forced the berries down the wolf's throat, choking him to death.  All the animals saw this and sentenced the bear to dig his own hole until the end of his life.  The animals went back to their unfair lives and lived happily ever after."
         The crowd of people were amazed by the story, and they understood all too well what the storyteller had said, so they laughed and gave the storyteller their coins and went back to their business.  The philosopher tried to get the people to listen to him, but no matter how loud he yelled or how hard he blew his horn, they would not listen.  He then became furious, and decided to stomp over to the storyteller, who was counting his coins.  "Do you know what you just did?" asked the philosopher, face red with rage.  "The people were about to be enlightened, they were about to progress their society, they were about to change their lives!  You're an imbecile, you're a moron, you're a rat!"
         The storyteller just smiled and said, "I thought you, of all people, would be smart enough to understand the moral of the story.  Everyone else did...  Why haven't you?"
         "It was just a simple made up tale about a stupid bear and even more stupid animals," protested the philosopher.
         "Ah, but you were the one who told me the tale," said the storyteller.
         "Preposterous!" spat the philosopher.  "How could I tell you a story I've never heard before?"
         "You have, my friend," revealed the storyteller.  "My story just has metaphors that make your ideas easier to understand.  The bear represents you and your need to make everything fair, and the animals represent the people."
         "What about the ending?" asked philosopher, still angry.  "What about the wolf?"
         Making his smile very warm and his eyes very kind, the storyteller answered:  "The wolf represents me, of course, meeting my fate after you drop into your fate... Please, take the coins.  I won't be needing them anymore."
         The philosopher did not understand what the storyteller meant, but as soon as a bag filled of the storyteller's coins dropped on his hands, the storyteller's eyes went heavy and his breath escaped him.  The storyteller had passed away from this world to the great unknown.  The philosopher quickly went from anger to awe-struck horror and guilt, for he was certain that his anger had just killed a man.  He then ran from the market place and used the bag of coins to build his personal prison cell.
         No one understood why the philosopher built his own prison, but he did not beg or bother anyone while he was in it.  He just withered away in that prison cell, until he, too, passed away.  It was a tragic end for the philosopher, but I dare say, the rest of the people, in that particular city, lived happily ever after.

The End
© Copyright 2011 Mike Whitacre (mikewhitacre at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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