The Nick Klaus's Fables

by Frederic Colier

  “Soon enough, you’ll be able to taste it,” shouted the monkey, only too happy to be able to cross the forest and get to see the sea.

  After several days, the exhausted donkey stopped walking.

  “What’s the matter, donkey? We’re not there yet,” yelled the monkey.

  “I’m starving. How much farther is this carrot castle? If only I could taste it, to see if I like it. Then I’ll know if I’d like to go.”

  “You’ll love it,” simply answered the monkey.

  They walked and walked. Soon the sun disappeared, entire days passed, and the wind tore the leaves off the trees. And then the rain came in troves, along with ankle-deep snow.

  Finally, they came to the edge of the forest and reached the blue sea. The donkey raised his head: “Where is that castle full of carrots? I see none.”

  The monkey did not like what he saw either. Just water and sand as far as the eye could see, with nothing to eat or where to hide from the sun.

  “We’re not quite there, yet,” mumbled the monkey stretching, as if he had just woken up. “It is hiding beyond this hill over there,” he said pointing at a tall dune in the distance. The donkey glanced over and looked back at the dangling carrot in front of her nose, not so motivated now. The fresh spotless carrot had braved much bad weather and looked rather sad. It had all shriveled. Herself hungry, the donkey dug her hooves in and sat. The monkey almost lost his balance.

  “If this castle’s going to look like this carrot, I’m not going anywhere!” she said, turning towards the monkey, clinging to her neck. Afraid to be stuck by the sea and starve, the monkey unhooked the decrepit unsavory vegetable and handed it to the donkey. “Look, it tastes very nice,” said the monkey, his voice shaking.

  Slowly, the donkey nibbled on the pitiful carrot, her face covered with frowns. The monkey waited, with a smile a mile wide.

  “You think you can trick me so easily,” she blurted out, kicking the monkey off her back. “This carrot is as unsavory as your castle. I’m afraid but you’ll have to walk back.”

  The monkey looked around in a panic, begged and pleaded with the donkey. But the donkey had pride, and she turned her rump around and walked away. Quickly, however, she realized that she did not know which way to go and got lost. On her way down to the sea, she only had her sights on the carrot and the castle by the sea.

  The Horse With Three Legs (#20)

  Once upon a time a little girl playing in a field found herself a long way from home. She came across a horse running down a hill in the distance.

  “Good,” she thought delighted, “this horse can give me a ride back home.” She approached the brown sweaty horse and realized that he only had three legs. How strange that was for it did not seem to prevent him from jumping, reeling, frolicking, trotting, and of course galloping up and down the hill. The little girl stared at the horse and said bluntly: “What have you done with your fourth leg?”

  The horse put on an unpleasant air of surprise on his face. “What fourth leg?” he said.

  The little girl frowned. She was not ready to let this horse have the last word, especially not a horse with three legs.

  “The one you’re missing,” she said, pointing at the missing leg. The horse’s head followed her finger pointing at the missing leg. Confused, he raised his head again, grinning his big white teeth.

  “There’s nothing there, how can a leg be missing?”

  Far from feeling intimidated, the little girl clenched her fists. “You must have lost it somewhere then?”

  “There’s no leg there, how can I possibly have lost it? How do you know it’s missing in the first place, anyway?”

  “All horses have four legs!”

  “Not true,” answered the horse huffing and digging his hooves in the mud. “How can you claim that when you’ve got only two legs?! What happened to your other twos?”

  The little girl pinched her lips and thought the horse was being rather difficult. “I only have two legs, because I’m meant to be this way. I would find it hard to run on four legs. But you, you’d run much faster with four legs.”

  “I need what I need, and three legs are plenty for me.”

  At that moment, the little girl spotted the sun going down behind the forest. She remembered she had to go home.

  “Please give me a ride back home.”

  The horse shook his head vigorously.

  “I was going to give you a ride. But it’s late now, and horses with three legs don’t run in the dark.”

  The Lost Little Girl (#21)

  Once upon a time a horse with legs, galloping up and down a hill, spotted a little girl, crossing a field back and forth. “This little girl seems lost. I better give her a ride home,” he told himself. And so he approached her.

  “Are you looking for your way back home?” he asked her. She stared at the horse surprised when she realized that he only had three legs. How strange, it did not seem to prevent him from jumping, reeling, frolicking, trotting, and of course galloping up and down the hill. The little girl crossed her arms and said bluntly: “What have you done with your fourth leg?”

  The horse put on an air of surprise on his face: “What fourth leg?”

  The little girl frowned. She was not ready to let this horse have the last word, especially not a horse with three legs.

  “The one you’re missing,” she said, pointing at the missing leg. The horse’s head followed her finger pointing at the missing leg. Confused, he raised his head again, grinning his big white teeth.

  “There’s nothing there, how can a leg be missing?”

  Far from feeling intimidated, the little girl clenched her fists. “You must have lost it somewhere then?”

  “There’s no leg there, how can I possibly have lost it? How do you know it’s missing in the first place, anyway?”

  “All horses have four legs!”

  “Not true,” answered the horse huffing and digging his hooves in the mud. “How can you claim that when you’ve got only two legs?! What happened to your other twos?”

  The little girl pinched her lips and thought the horse was being rather difficult. “I only have two legs, because I’m meant to be this way. I would find it hard to run on four legs. But you, you’d run much faster with four legs.”

  “I just need what I need, and three legs are plenty for me.”

  “I would never ride a horse with three legs. You look ridiculous.”

  At that moment, they spotted the sun going down behind the forest. She remembered she had to go home. The horse drew his big wide head near hers.

  “It’s getting late. Do you really want to sleep in the woods, alone?”

  She little girl shook her head no vigorously.

  “Well, whether I have three or four legs should not matter if it gets you home.”

  While the little girl pondered, he lowered his front legs so that the little girl could climb on back his easily.

  Doorman Bear (#22)

  “I am so sick and tired of this life,” complained an enormous grizzly bear. He stood in a river, his feet soaking in the freezing water waiting for a fish to appear and catch it. He turned to his wife, sitting on a blanket behind and setting the covers.

  “I’m sick and tired of spending my days hunting for fish in this river, never knowing when the next catch will come.”

  “Would changing river make our life easier?” she asks, fanning the flies off her face. He shrugged his shoulders at her. Seeing his sad expression, she said: “What else could you do, dear? We are bears. We must live in the forests and eat berries and honey, and fish in rivers.”

  “I dream of becoming a doorman. With a nice uniform and a cap to protect me from the sun. Life would be so much better.”

  He told her about his plan, to exchange their part of the river and buy a nice dry and warm apartment in the town across the river. Mrs. Bear was not convinced. She likes the smell of fresh bushes and flowers, and the taste of raw salmon. He promised to buy her la
rge pot of honey and gigantic slice of salmon with all the money he was going to make.

  “Why would we buy fish when we can get it for free?” she asks perplexed. Nonetheless, the bear sold his river rights to another bear clan and took his wife to town and soon found a job as a doorman.

  The first day, he was ecstatic. He rushed back home to parade his uniform. He showed her how he tipped his hat to people in the streets. He bragged about the thickness of his coat, how alive it made him feel.

  After several weeks, his prospect got somber. His wife noticed that the coat looked too big on him.

  “Are you losing weight?” asked his wife preoccupied. He was cheerful. He worked so hard that he had no time to go shopping, and sometimes had to skip lunch. She started to prepare him lunch every day. But to no avail, the coat grew bigger and bigger. The sleeves covered his hands. His hat fell into his nose.

  “You don’t look good for a working bear,” she pointed out. “You looked as if you just spent two years in hibernation.”

  He lost more weight and grew weak. He would fall asleep on the sofa as soon as he would walk home. His wife sat at the dinner table alone staring at her honey and salmon. But she was worried about her husband and she lost her appetite too.

  One day, she decided to stalk him to work. She sat in the lobby of his building, hiding behind a newspaper so that he could not recognize her.

  And she saw how exhausting he was of carrying suitcases, up and down the stairs, answering telephones, handing out dry cleaning, running around to find missing keys, and handing out mails and parcels, and sending food delivery men to the apartment, and worse of all being forced to lower his eyes in front of rude owners, visitors, and children. A big bear like him who no longer looked so big.

  He jumped off when he saw her waiting for him outside the building. She stared at him and said:

  “Why would we buy fish when we can get it for free?”

  He looked at his coat, which now looked ridiculous on him, dropped it on the street, took her hand, and off they went back to the river.

  Three Elephants on Tricycles (#23)

  Three tired circus elephants were riding their tricycles around a ring. One of the tricycles squeaked loudly, so loudly that the first elephant in line finally turned round and let out in exasperation: “I’m not sure whose tricycle is making so much squeaky noise, but this has to stop!”

  “What do you suggest we do?” said the second elephant following behind.

  “Find a way to stop it! This squeaking is getting on my nerves.”

  “I agree, we should do something about it,” said the second one.

  The third one who was the shyest of the three, whispers under his trunk: “It’s obvious one of us has lost too much weight. Otherwise the bike will not squeak.”

  His remark threw his two colleagues off. They thought deeply at the puzzle. After a couple of laps, the second one, who was the most disturbed by the remark added: “But how are we going to find out, which of us has been losing the most weight and is making all this annoying squeaking?”

  “It’s easy. It will be the lightest one,” replied the first elephant, shaking his head in irritation. He threw an accomplice glance to second elephant. The third noticed it and got offended: “Being the lightest one does not mean losing the most weight.”

  The elephants looked really pained at the response. To avoid the heavy silence, punctuated by the irritating squeaking noise, the first elephant stated:

  “We should all stop riding.”

  They debated for a while to decide who should stop pedaling first, because the circus owner forbade them from stopping pedaling. But the noise was too loud and grinding their patience. Seeing no one around, they agreed in defiance to stop riding at the same time.

  The squeaking noise vanished. They looked at each other relieved with an expression saying: “You see, it wasn’t me and my tricycle.” And to better convince each other, they rushed to the water trough and vacuumed dozens gallons of water and then ate pounds and pounds of hay. In fact they drunk and ate so much that they felt heavy and way too lazy to ride again.

  “I’m too tired,” said the first elephant. “Me too!” echoed the second and the third elephants. “Let’s wait a couple of hours before riding again. Maybe by then the squeaking would have gone.”

  “What do you mean by then? Has it not already gone now?”

  The second elephant conceded that indeed the squeaking was now gone.

  “He meant to make sure it does not return,” added the third elephant.

  “But what are we going to do during two hours?” protested the first elephant.

  “We have to take a nap,” said the third elephant yawning. The second elephant gave a grave look at the first elephant, waiting for his reaction. When he tensed and peered at the other two in distrust, they straightened up, opening wide their sleepy eyes.

  “That’s not possible because one of us snores in his sleep,” stated the first elephant.

  They all agreed that taking a nap was not for the best solution and half-asleep started to ride their tricycle again. The grating squeaky noise returned straight away and kept them awake.

  The Prophet and the Snails (#24)

  Not long ago a village of snails gathered in the central square. They were humble hard-working snails, who worried about the future, and for a good reason. They looked at the sky and then at each other with grave expressions. The old snails were ponderous, whereas the young ones appeared restless.

  “We need rain!” they shouted. “No leaves or grass will ever grow without rain.”

  The old snails try to pacify the restless young ones, having lived through similar situations a few times in the past. The young ones listened and calmed down, but when no cloud showed up in the sky the following days, and the following weeks, and even the old snails started to show signs of impatience, they call for another meeting. All the snails gathered once again in the main square to vent their concerns. Everyone had something to say but no one had a solution.

  A prophet who had spent many years in the cave of a mountain happened to be sitting on a bench nearby. Upon seeing how dry and crackling the ground was, and how unhappy and worried the snails were, he said:

  “Come with me. I will take you up to a mountain and show you a place where water abound and the grass grows taller than your shell.”

  The young ones opened their eyes wide and voiced their enthusiasm. The old ones exchanged suspicious, sometimes even, mocking glances. They tried to pacify the young snails but failed. The young were just too many. Soon the village was abandoned, the old snails put in carts along with the children. The young snails led the way, and off they followed the prophet.

  They crawled and lugged up the hills for a long time. The snails being snails walked slowly, and even though the prophet was old and limping, they were unable to keep up with him. They lagged way behind and soon lost sight of the prophet. To make the matter worse, they got lost, and there was nothing to eat or drink in sight. The mountainside was even worse than their valley. The old snails grew nervous and protested, but the confidence and drive of the young ones won over the rest of the villagers. Ahead, they went with resilience.

  Eventually their path split in two. The young snails could not agree. Some preached to take the left path, others the right one. The children were hungry and thirsty, and cried. Unable to silence the, the parents decided together to howl for the missing prophet, who was the only one who knew the location of the bountiful place. Hopefully he will hear them.

  In the meantime, the old snails from the top of their carts noticed that miles away it rained down the valley once again. The young snails looked at each other with anger. The old snails bragged with delight. At this point, the very old and lame prophet who had noticed their absence and heard their screams appeared in front of them. The young snails accused him of having lied to them. There was no water and grass growing taller than their shell on this mountain. This dream place probably di
d not even exist.

  The prophet raised his hand to silence them.

  “This is exactly what I promise you,” he said. “Now let me show you a place where water abound and the grass grows taller than your shell.”

  He then pointed his long hooked and wise finger with great authority towards the valley where all the snails came from.

  The Wolf Must Run to the Market (#25)

  “Why don’t you run to the market and get us some fresh food,” said a mother wolf, taking a deep breath at the sad expression of her three starving cubs. They sat around the table, whining, hitting the table with their fists, one of them laying his head in his empty plate, while father wolf, feet up on the coffee table read the newspaper. Knowing the tone of his wife’s voice too well, he put his newspaper aside and looked over to his hungry cubs.

  “Can’t they eat a bowl of cereals?” he asked. The mother wolf shook her head vigorously. “These are wolf children not birds!”

  Mother wolf quelled her husband look with a silent glare. Seeing that he had no choice, father wolf rose from his armchair and slipped on his country shoes. “I’m a good daddy, and I’m going to the market and get us some fresh meat to feed all these little hungry mouths,” he said jubilant to hide his guilt for reading the newspaper instead of being out in the country hunting.

  Soon, riding his bicycle, he crossed fields and hills. He looked at the blue sky, the sun hitting hard on the road. The town was still nowhere in sight. He grew thirsty and took a detour to stop by a river to drink some fresh cool water.

  A young man with a thin moustache was leaning against the door of his truck, half asleep. The truck had a flat tired and was packed full with dogs in cages. The dogs grew mad upon seeing the wolf and barked their lungs out. The wolf was intimidated, but he approached the young man. “Why aren’t you taking these dogs away? They are loud and seem agitated.”