Fantastic Fables by Ambrose Bierce (ebook reader play store .txt) 📕

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A PUGILIST met the Moral Sentiment of the Community, who was

carrying a hat-box. “What have you in the hat-box, my friend?”

inquired the Pugilist.

 

“A new frown,” was the answer. “I am bringing it from the frownery

- the one over there with the gilded steeple.”

 

“And what are you going to do with the nice new frown?” the

Pugilist asked.

 

“Put down pugilism - if I have to wear it night and day,” said the

Moral Sentiment of the Community, sternly.

 

“That’s right,” said the Pugilist, “that is right, my good friend;

if pugilism had been put down yesterday, I wouldn’t have this kind

of Nose to-day. I had a rattling hot fight last evening with - “

 

“Is that so?” cried the Moral Sentiment of the Community, with

sudden animation. “Which licked? Sit down here on the hat-box and

tell me all about it!”

 

The Politicians

 

AN Old Politician and a Young Politician were travelling through a

beautiful country, by the dusty highway which leads to the City of

Prosperous Obscurity. Lured by the flowers and the shade and

charmed by the songs of birds which invited to woodland paths and

green fields, his imagination fired by glimpses of golden domes and

glittering palaces in the distance on either hand, the Young

Politician said:

 

“Let us, I beseech thee, turn aside from this comfortless road

leading, thou knowest whither, but not I. Let us turn our backs

upon duty and abandon ourselves to the delights and advantages

which beckon from every grove and call to us from every shining

hill. Let us, if so thou wilt, follow this beautiful path, which,

as thou seest, hath a guide-board saying, ‘Turn in here all ye who

seek the Palace of Political Distinction.’”

 

“It is a beautiful path, my son,” said the Old Politician, without

either slackening his pace or turning his head, “and it leadeth

among pleasant scenes. But the search for the Palace of Political

Distinction is beset with one mighty peril.”

 

“What is that?” said the Young Politician.

 

“The peril of finding it,” the Old Politician replied, pushing on.

 

The Thoughtful Warden

 

THE Warden of a Penitentiary was one day putting locks on the doors

of all the cells when a mechanic said to him:

 

“Those locks can all be opened from the inside - you are very

imprudent.”

 

The Warden did not look up from his work, but said:

 

“If that is called imprudence, I wonder what would be called a

thoughtful provision against the vicissitudes of fortune.”

 

The Treasury and the Arms

 

A PUBLIC Treasury, feeling Two Arms lifting out its contents,

exclaimed:

 

“Mr. Shareman, I move for a division.”

 

“You seem to know something about parliamentary forms of speech,”

said the Two Arms.

 

“Yes,” replied the Public Treasury, “I am familiar with the hauls

of legislation.”

 

The Christian Serpent

 

A RATTLESNAKE came home to his brood and said: “My children, gather

about and receive your father’s last blessing, and see how a

Christian dies.”

 

“What ails you, Father?” asked the Small Snakes.

 

“I have been bitten by the editor of a partisan journal,” was the

reply, accompanied by the ominous death-rattle.

 

The Broom of the Temple

 

THE city of Gakwak being about to lose its character of capital of

the province of Ukwuk, the Wampog issued a proclamation convening

all the male residents in council in the Temple of Ul to devise

means of defence. The first speaker thought the best policy would

be to offer a fried jackass to the gods. The second suggested a

public procession, headed by the Wampog himself, bearing the Holy

Poker on a cushion of cloth-of-brass. Another thought that a

scarlet mole should be buried alive in the public park and a

suitable incantation chanted over the remains. The advice of the

fourth was that the columns of the capitol be rubbed with oil of

dog by a person having a moustache on the calf of his leg. When

all the others had spoken an Aged Man rose and said:

 

“High and mighty Wampog and fellow-citizens, I have listened

attentively to all the plans proposed. All seem wise, and I do not

suffer myself to doubt that any one of them would be efficacious.

Nevertheless, I cannot help thinking that if we would put an

improved breed of polliwogs in our drinking water, construct

shallower roadways, groom the street cows, offer the stranger

within our gates a free choice between the poniard and the potion,

and relinquish our private system of morals, the other measures of

public safety would be needless.”

 

The Aged Man was about to speak further, but the meeting informally

adjourned in order to sweep the floor of the temple - for the men

of Gakwak are the tidiest housewives in all that province. The

last speaker was the broom.

 

The Critics

 

WHILE bathing, Antinous was seen by Minerva, who was so enamoured

of his beauty that, all armed as she happened to be, she descended

from Olympus to woo him; but, unluckily displaying her shield, with

the head of Medusa on it, she had the unhappiness to see the

beautiful mortal turn to stone from catching a glimpse of it. She

straightway ascended to ask Jove to restore him; but before this

could be done a Sculptor and a Critic passed that way and espied

him.

 

“This is a very bad Apollo,” said the Sculptor: “the chest is too

narrow, and one arm is at least a half-inch shorter than the other.

The attitude is unnatural, and I may say impossible. Ah! my

friend, you should see my statue of Antinous.”

 

“In my judgment, the figure,” said the Critic, “is tolerably good,

though rather Etrurian, but the expression of the face is decidedly

Tuscan, and therefore false to nature. By the way, have you read

my work on ‘The Fallaciousness of the Aspectual in Art’?”

 

The Foolish Woman

 

A MARRIED Woman, whose lover was about to reform by running away,

procured a pistol and shot him dead.

 

“Why did you do that, Madam?” inquired a Policeman, sauntering by.

 

“Because,” replied the Married Woman, “he was a wicked man, and had

purchased a ticket to Chicago.”

 

“My sister,” said an adjacent Man of God, solemnly, “you cannot

stop the wicked from going to Chicago by killing them.”

 

Father and Son

 

“MY boy,” said an aged Father to his fiery and disobedient Son, “a

hot temper is the soil of remorse. Promise me that when next you

are angry you will count one hundred before you move or speak.”

 

No sooner had the Son promised than he received a stinging blow

from the paternal walking-stick, and by the time he had counted to

seventy-five had the unhappiness to see the old man jump into a

waiting cab and whirl away.

 

The Discontented Malefactor

 

A JUDGE having sentenced a Malefactor to the penitentiary was

proceeding to point out to him the disadvantages of crime and the

profit of reformation.

 

“Your Honour,” said the Malefactor, interrupting, “would you be

kind enough to alter my punishment to ten years in the penitentiary

and nothing else?”

 

“Why,” said the Judge, surprised, “I have given you only three

years!”

 

“Yes, I know,” assented the Malefactor - “three years’ imprisonment

and the preaching. If you please, I should like to commute the

preaching.”

 

A Call to Quit

 

SEEING that his audiences were becoming smaller every Sunday, a

Minister of the Gospel broke off in the midst of a sermon,

descended the pulpit stairs, and walked on his hands down the

central aisle of the church. He then remounted his feet, ascended

to the pulpit, and resumed his discourse, making no allusion to the

incident.

 

“Now,” said he to himself, as he went home, “I shall have,

henceforth, a large attendance and no snoring.”

 

But on the following Friday he was waited upon by the Pillars of

the Church, who informed him that in order to be in harmony with

the New Theology and get full advantage of modern methods of Gospel

interpretation they had deemed it advisable to make a change. They

had therefore sent a call to Brother Jowjeetum-Fallal, the World-Renowned Hindoo Human Pin-Wheel, then holding forth in Hoopitup’s

circus. They were happy to say that the reverend gentleman had

been moved by the Spirit to accept the call, and on the ensuing

Sabbath would break the bread of life for the brethren or break his

neck in the attempt.

 

The Man and the Lightning

 

A MAN Running for Office was overtaken by Lightning.

 

“You see,” said the Lightning, as it crept past him inch by inch,

“I can travel considerably faster than you.”

 

“Yes,” the Man Running for Office replied, “but think how much

longer I keep going!”

 

The Lassoed Bear

 

A HUNTER who had lassoed a Bear was trying to disengage himself

from the rope, but the slip-knot about his wrist would not yield,

for the Bear was all the time pulling in the slack with his paws.

In the midst of his trouble the Hunter saw a Showman passing by,

and managed to attract his attention.

 

“What will you give me,” he said, “for my Bear?”

 

“It will be some five or ten minutes,” said the Showman, “before I

shall want a fresh Bear, and it looks to me as if prices would fall

during that time. I think I’ll wait and watch the market.”

 

“The price of this animal,” the Hunter replied, “is down to bed-rock; you can have him for nothing a pound, spot cash, and I’ll

throw in the next one that I lasso. But the purchaser must remove

the goods from the premises forthwith, to make room for three man-eating tigers, a cat-headed gorilla, and an armful of

rattlesnakes.”

 

But the Showman passed on, in maiden meditation, fancy free, and

being joined soon afterward by the Bear, who was absently picking

his teeth, it was inferred that they were not unacquainted.

 

The Ineffective Rooter

 

A DRUNKEN Man was lying in the road with a bleeding nose, upon

which he had fallen, when a Pig passed that way.

 

“You wallow fairly well,” said the Pig, “but, my fine fellow, you

have much to learn about rooting.”

 

A Protagonist of Silver

 

SOME Financiers who were whetting their tongues on their teeth

because the Government had “struck down” silver, and were about to

“inaugurate” a season of sweatshed, were addressed as follows by a

Member of their honourable and warlike body:

 

“Comrades of the thunder and companions of death, I cannot but

regard it as singularly fortunate that we who by conviction and

sympathy are designated by nature as the champions of that fairest

of her products, the white metal, should also, by a happy chance,

be engaged mostly in the business of mining it. Nothing could be

more appropriate than that those who from unselfish motives and

elevated sentiments are doing battle for the people’s rights and

interests, should themselves be the chief beneficiaries of success.

Therefore, O children of the earthquake and the storm, let us stand

shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart, and pocket to pocket!”

 

This speech so pleased the other Members of the convention that,

actuated by a magnanimous impulse, they sprang to their feet and

left the hall. It was the first time they had ever been known to

leave anything having value.

 

The Holy Deacon

 

AN Itinerant Preacher who had wrought hard in the moral vineyard

for several hours whispered to a Holy Deacon of the local church:

 

“Brother, these people know you, and your active support will bear