Ambrose Bierce - Fantastic Fables

“What are you giving me?” the Labourer said. “Cannot an honest pavior perform his work in peace, and get his money for it, and his living by it, without others talking rot about ambition and hopes of fame?”

“Cannot an honest writer?” said the Author.

An Assassin being put upon trial in a New England court, his Counsel rose and said: “Your Honour, I move for a discharge on the ground of ‘once in jeopardy’: my client has been already tried for that murder and acquitted.”

“In what court?” asked the Judge.

“In the Superior Court of San Francisco,” the Counsel replied.

“Let the trial proceed—your motion is denied,” said the Judge. “An Assassin is not in jeopardy when tried in California.”

The Pahdour of Patagascar and the Gookul of Madagonia were disputing about an island which both claimed. Finally, at the suggestion of the International League of Cannon Founders, which had important branches in both countries, they decided to refer their claims to the Bumbo of Jiam, and abide by his judgment. In settling the preliminaries of the arbitration they had, however, the misfortune to disagree, and appealed to arms. At the end of a long and disastrous war, when both sides were exhausted and bankrupt, the Bumbo of Jiam intervened in the interest of peace.

“My great and good friends,” he said to his brother sovereigns, “it will be advantageous to you to learn that some questions are more complex and perilous than others, presenting a greater number of points upon which it is possible to differ. For four generations your royal predecessors disputed about possession of that island, without falling out. Beware, oh, beware the perils of international arbitration!—against which I feel it my duty to protect you henceforth.”

So saying, he annexed both countries, and after a long, peaceful, and happy reign was poisoned by his Prime Minister.

Two Poets were quarrelling for the Apple of Discord and the Bone of Contention, for they were very hungry.

“My sons,” said Apollo, “I will part the prizes between you. You,” he said to the First Poet, “excel in Art—take the Apple. And you,” he said to the Second Poet, “in Imagination—take the Bone.”

“To Art the best prize!” said the First Poet, triumphantly, and endeavouring to devour his award broke all his teeth. The Apple was a work of Art.

“That shows our Master’s contempt for mere Art,” said the Second Poet, grinning.

Thereupon he attempted to gnaw his Bone, but his teeth passed through it without resistance. It was an imaginary Bone.

A Mind Reader made a wager that he would be buried alive and remain so for six months, then be dug up alive. In order to secure the grave against secret disturbance, it was sown with thistles. At the end of three months, the Mind Reader lost his money. He had come up to eat the thistles.

A Political Leader was walking out one sunny day, when he observed his Shadow leaving him and walking rapidly away.

“Come back here, you scoundrel,” he cried.

“If I had been a scoundrel,” answered the Shadow, increasing its speed, “I should not have left you.”

A Rat that was about to emerge from his hole caught a glimpse of a Cat waiting for him, and descending to the colony at the bottom of the hole invited a Friend to join him in a visit to a neighbouring corn-bin. “I would have gone alone,” he said, “but could not deny myself the pleasure of such distinguished company.”

“Very well,” said the Friend, “I will go with you. Lead on.”

“Lead?” exclaimed the other. “What! I precede so great and illustrious a rat as you? No, indeed—after you, sir, after you.”

Pleased with this great show of deference, the Friend went ahead, and, leaving the hole first, was caught by the Cat, who immediately trotted away with him. The other then went out unmolested.

A Member of the Kansas Legislature meeting a Cake of Soap was passing it by without recognition, but the Cake of Soap insisted on stopping and shaking hands. Thinking it might possibly be in the enjoyment of the elective franchise, he gave it a cordial and earnest grasp. On letting it go he observed that a portion of it adhered to his fingers, and running to a brook in great alarm he proceeded to wash it off. In doing so he necessarily got some on the other hand, and when he had finished washing, both were so white that he went to bed and sent for a physician.

“Good-Morning, my friend,” said Alarm to Pride; “how are you this morning?”

“Very tired,” replied Pride, seating himself on a stone by the wayside and mopping his steaming brow. “The politicians are wearing me out by pointing to their dirty records with me , when they could as well use a stick.”

Alarm sighed sympathetically, and said:

“It is pretty much the same way here. Instead of using an opera-glass they view the acts of their opponents with me !”

As these patient drudges were mingling their tears, they were notified that they must go on duty again, for one of the political parties had nominated a thief and was about to hold a gratification meeting.

A Rich Woman having returned from abroad disembarked at the foot of Knee-deep Street, and was about to walk to her hotel through the mud.

“Madam,” said a Policeman, “I cannot permit you to do that; you would soil your shoes and stockings.”

“Oh, that is of no importance, really,” replied the Rich Woman, with a cheerful smile.

“But, madam, it is needless; from the wharf to the hotel, as you observe, extends an unbroken line of prostrate newspaper men who crave the honour of having you walk upon them.”

“In that case,” she said, seating herself in a doorway and unlocking her satchel, “I shall have to put on my rubber boots.”

Meeting a fat and patriotic Statesman on his way to Washington to beseech the President for an office, an idle Tramp accosted him and begged twenty-five cents with which to buy a suit of clothes.

“Melancholy wreck,” said the Statesman, “what brought you to this state of degradation? Liquor, I suppose.”

“I am temperate to the verge of absurdity,” replied the Tramp. “My foible was patriotism; I was ruined by the baneful habit of trying to serve my country. What ruined you?”

“Indolence.”

A Broomstick which had long served a witch as a steed complained of the nature of its employment, which it thought degrading.

“Very well,” said the Witch, “I will give you work in which you will be associated with intellect—you will come in contact with brains. I shall present you to a housewife.”

“What!” said the Broomstick, “do you consider the hands of a housewife intellectual?”

“I referred,” said the Witch, “to the head of her good man.”

A Lion seeing a Poodle fell into laughter at the ridiculous spectacle.

“Who ever saw so small a beast?” he said.

“It is very true,” said the Poodle, with austere dignity, “that I am small; but, sir, I beg to observe that I am all dog.”

A Great Philanthropist who had thought of himself in connection with the Presidency and had introduced a bill into Congress requiring the Government to loan every voter all the money that he needed, on his personal security, was explaining to a Sunday-school at a railway station how much he had done for the country, when an angel looked down from Heaven and wept.