Write a brief parable or fable.?

Question

It seems like a good way to make a moral point (e.g. the grasshopper and the ant).

Try including these three words:

Compassion
Jealousy
Pliers

Points for imagination. No points if it makes sense, but extra points if it has a moral or ethical message. :-)

This question does not have to be taken seriously.

Answer 1

A Letter from St. Fritz the Unicorn to the Nation of Pliers:



Ye, who call yourself Flat, Round, Needle, and Box-Joint must abandon the involuntary sin of jealousy, and remember that all are Plier.



Once, in the Age when Unicorns and Blue Monkeys dwelt in the Great Forrest of Pasta, we discovered, nestled under the tremendous tire of our Mystical Off-Road Vehicle, a tiny plastic Packet, torn and apparently bleeding. Being a compassionate people, we tried, through endless hours of stomping, pawing, and stabbing, to restore the packet to health. But not all Beings are like the Pliers. Some, once opened, can never be closed.



At last, when all our horns were befouled by the Packet’s innards, PeeWee the Brave did the dance of the Blue Monkeys, and they came, via vine, to our assistance. The great monkey General Hecatomb, as you well know, has the notable distinction of having an acquaintance whose friend’s brother’s step-uncle’s twin hamster has with a distant cousin that speaks to the Reindeer Behind the Curtain. And it was this Cunning Rodent that called forth the People of the 57 Varieties.



They came in many packages. There were many colorful brothers to Packet, Large Squeezables and Small Squeezables, and elderly Glass Bottles, who for their own reasons, and in testimony to their class and grace, preferred to remain upsidedown. They gathered the fallen packet at once, and with copious chanting and pushing, transported its soul into half-empty squeezable, thus giving it New Life. For, you see, O Nation of Pliers, the 57 Varieties, though they come in many shapes and sizes, are One.



It was, in this moment of beauty and excitement, that General Hecatomb, in typical Blue Monkey fashion, became excited, and caused the Mystical Off-Road to lurch suddenly forward, crushing all varieties of the 57 Varieties. Thus, today, the People dwell on the hallowed ground of the Forrest of Pasta, totally united.



We Unicorns dare to hope that someday, you Lock Jaws, Cutters, and Strippers will be able to match our Wisdom.



This is the Word of the Horn.





.

Answer 2

The screwdriver felt screwed. He only had three major functions. He could screw something together, unscrew something apart, and, occasionally, be used to pry. Though he enjoyed his functions and loved the way Bob (the Builder) held him, he always felt a twinge of jealousy for Pliers. Not a specific set of Pliers, but all Pliers in general.



The screwdriver's family was numbered. He, a flat tip, had only ever met his brother, Phillips, and one loony cousin named Hex. Mr. Pliers had a large family, however. There were Pliers to grip, turn, pull, cut or crimp a variety of things.



After use, the screwdriver was often placed in the top compartment of a toolbox while the pliers were put in the bottom, to party with all the other tools. For awhile the screwdriver was actually forgotten about in a drawer in the kitchen by Bob's wife! He was not loved and he knew it. He vowed to one day destroy the pliers.



He finally got his chance when, in a hurry, Bob placed the pliers in the top compartment with the screwdriver and shut the lid. Instantly the screwdriver was upon the pliers (a stubby well worn pair with red rubber handles). He tore one of the handles instantly and while the pliers were screaming he went to work on loosening the lynch-pin that held him together. Aghast, Bob threw open the lid and quickly seperated the two tools. With the weeping pliers in one hand and the angry, yet teary-eyed, screwdriver in the other he demanded to know what was going on.



The screwdriver explained the scenario to a surprisingly sympathetic Bob, who shoook his head and listened to the screwy screwdriver ramble on. When the screwdriver was finished Bob shook his head and softly said:



"But I've always loved you, screwdriver. That's why I placed you in the top compartment, so I could see you immediately when I opened up the toolbox. Just before I put Stubby Plier in he begged me to be placed in the top compartment so he could be near you. What have you done, Flat-tip Screwdriver, what have you done?"



Bob never used screwdriver's full name unless he was really upset. Speechless, screwdriver began to cry his apologies in one long sob.



"I'msooosorryIloveyoutooBobandyoutoopliers!"



Bob had little compassion for faulty tools. "You will be placed in storage until I'm ready to see you again. I'll be buying a new screwdriver to replace you and you will gather dust and rust and must in the basement for many many years. That is where screwdriver sleeps to this day, alone and unloved.



Moral: Be happy with what you do have, as it's never as bad as it seems.

Answer 3

THE PARK



A man riding his bike one day, had a flat tire. Upon looking into his tool kit he remebered the pliers he needed were on his work bench.



He found himself in a park and it was a spring day. The weather was beautiful. A perfect day! As he sat basking in the warmth of the sun pondering what to do, he noticed he was surrounded by all sorts of different people. Black, White, Asian, Indian, Arabic, male and female. He took note that there were many people of different religious backgrounds, Jews, Christians, Hindus, Muslims and others he did not recognize. The children played together and did not notice the outward differences that they each shared. They played with each other joyfully as it did not matter how each was dressed or the color of their skin. No jealousy was exhibted between them. It crossed his mind why those in his adult world could not be the same way.



Suddenly it hit him. All of the people shared the same sunny day. The birds sang for all, the sweet fragrance of the flowers was shared by all, the beauty of the blooms was seen by all, the laughter of the children filled his ears and he knew..... Gods love was shinning on all around him to be experienced equally. It was then that he knew the deeper teachings. To be founded in God is to begin to love all others the way God loves all others, just like he showed his love to all that day in the park.



Then he realized that the love he saw always lived in him. He had just covered it up with predjudice, envy, jealousy and his errant concept of evil that he used to judge others.



The warmth of divine love within him melted into the warmth of the sun and he realized the unitiy of the one. The one divine love inherent in all things. All is one.



Then he began to swim in the ocean of light and radiance that had always surrounded him and for the first time in his life he really saw the truth of the light and love that is within and without.



blessings and peace to all,

All in all,

B

Answer 4

Dear Diary,



January 1, 2010



It's been a very long time since my last journal entry to you, and your pristine pages, white and blank, remind me of years ago when I used to live in a snowy tundra. Much has changed since then.... and if you're receptive, my words may invite your interest as they recount the passing of many things since the last time we communicated.



It took a concerted effort to attain the COMPASSION which now dwells in my heart. And it all began so innocuously with the arrival of a tiny bundle at my door step. Where it came from no one knows, but my good fortune has increased many times over since that serendipitous day just before Christmas, now more than 3 years ago.



The blustering storm had raged for 2 full days keeping me indoors, yet my mystery package remained miraculously unscathed by the ice laden winds and snow that pummeled the frozen earth. The plastic wrap that covered the box must have been fortified with an ardent JEALOUSY as it protected the package in it's care with a tenacity more relentless than the winter storm. I made my way outdoors with a guarded curiousity and bent down to retrieve the cube shaped object.



It was odd. No note, no card, no tracks in the snow... I was surprised too that as I grabbed the package it was not frozen to the step it sat on. I gently shook away the powdery snow that covered it while making haste to return to the warmth of the indoors. I was mystified by its weight, finding it must be no more than a few ounces. By now my curiousity overwhelmed me as I tore excitedly at the protective wrap to reveal a brightly coloured tin. It was sealed closed by a latch fortified with a piece of wire to keep it's unknown contents secure. Hurriedly I went to the hall closet and pulled out my tool box. I retrieved my needle nose PLIERS and set about removing the carefully twisted wire. Suddenly a thought occurred to me - was this intended for me? Perhaps I was poking both my nose and my PLIERS where neither belonged! This sudden question of my own honesty was fast set to rest, and there was no question for whom the tin was sent.



You see, once upon a time when I was starry eyed and romantic, I had thought to fulfill a wish for myself. I'd always believed in fairies and pixies and angels too. And so, one day while sorting through the attic and it's long forgotten treasures, I came upon an old bottle with a cork - perfect for sending messages to sea.... Taking a piece of my finest parchment and writing with a favourite pen, I carefully scribed my message, rolled the paper scroll-like and placed it in the bottle, securing it with a cork and sealing wax. Ther ein the dust and cobwebs of a musty attic, I secretly vowed to cast my bottle and it's message into a river the next time I was far away from home. Not long after, I found myself on a plane looking forward to meeting up with my most treasured friends. And it was with them while visiting a canyon with an enormous river that I chose to test serendipity and the Universe and my belief in fairies and pixies and angels.



Dear Diary, even the coldest cold can warm us in ways we do not expect. Messages in bottles may travel thousands of miles, yet the answer might literally be sitting on our doorsteps. There is so much more to share with you, yet the hour grows late and I must save the rest of my journey to COMPASSION for another day....Please guard my fable with all the JEALOUSY and protection you can muster. Your pristine pages are as always wondrous PLIERS to the secrets locked within....



(Thank YOU for keeping this question open, and though it took me much longer than at first thought, I've enjoyed answering one of your questions, as always!)

Answer 5

.



When the annoyed lobster reached for the generic Vise-Grip out of jealousy and anguish, the illuminated Pliers’ Platoon shouted with compassion: “I don’t know but I’ve been told, Snap-on grips are the way to go.” :-) :-)

.

.

.