“Did you write a story about me?” asked the fox.
“I did,” said Aesop, “one Friday when I was feeling blank. I remembered how you jumped and jumped to get those grapes, and walked away muttering.
“I guessed what you were saying. You told yourself that they were sour.”
“Wrong,” retorted the fox. “Don’t you know grapes can be harmful, even lethal, to members of the genus Canis?”
“How would I know that?” asked the fabulist. “It won’t be studied for millennia – and then only for domestic dogs.”
“Best not to take chances,” said the fox.
“But they were sour.”
“I did,” said Aesop, “one Friday when I was feeling blank. I remembered how you jumped and jumped to get those grapes, and walked away muttering.
“I guessed what you were saying. You told yourself that they were sour.”
“Wrong,” retorted the fox. “Don’t you know grapes can be harmful, even lethal, to members of the genus Canis?”
“How would I know that?” asked the fabulist. “It won’t be studied for millennia – and then only for domestic dogs.”
“Best not to take chances,” said the fox.
“But they were sour.”
