Simple Short Stories
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Stealing Cookies
A young lady was waiting for her flight in a boarding room of a big airport. As she should need to wait many hours, she decided to buy a book to spend her time. She also bought a pack of cookies. She sat down in an armchair, in the VIP room of the airport, to rest and read in peace.
Beside the armchair where the packet of cookies lay, a man sat down in the next seat, opened his magazine and started reading. When she took out the first cookie, the man took one also. She felt irritated but said nothing. She just thought, "What the nerve! If I was in the mood, I would punch him for daring!"
For each cookie she took, the man took one too. This was infuriating her but she didn't want to cause a scene. When only one cookie remained, she thought: "Ah... what this abusive man do now?"
Then, the man taking the last cookie, divided it into half, giving her one half.
"Ah! That's too much!" she thought. She was too much angry now! In a huff, she took her book, her things and stormed to the boarding place. When she sat down in her seat inside the plane, she looked into her purse to take her eyeglasses, and to her surprise, her packet of cookies was there, untouched... unopened.
She felt so ashamed! She realized that she was wrong... she forgotten that her cookies were kept in her purse. The man had divided his cookies with her, without feeling angered or bitter, while she had been very angry, thinking that she was dividing his cookies with him.
And now, there are no chance to explain or apologize. -
nice story [:
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True Love
It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.
I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.
While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.
The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health.
He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease.
As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late.
He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.
I was surprised, and asked him, 'And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?'
He smiled as he patted my hand and said,
"She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is." -
A Unique New Year Gift
It was 1st January, the first day of the year and a holiday for me. What luck! I started by thinking of getting the bank work out of the way. The bank person, an elderly gentleman with white beard, was as usual curt to my polite "Happy New Year." He nodded and I sat in front of him.
Minutes passed and nothing happened.
Then very hesitently I put across my RD form and booklet in front of him. He was busy filling up entries in his register. After a few minutes he took my form and from his cabinet he took out a very thick file from which he started filling in my details. All this while I was wondering about the computerised banking, if we are still filling out forms and registers!
After waiting for few more minutes, in which I showed all signs of being impatient, I asked him if my work was done. The moment I uttered the words, I felt as if a bombshell had fallen on him. He shouted "Nothing is done, it will take time!"
Just then I saw his morning cup of tea which had been lying there for the last 10 minutes, untouched. The tea had turned almost cold while he was doing his work. Suddenly I felt what this man, who has been working in this counter for the last "god knows how many years," must be feeling when customers like me come who are always in a hurry to get their work done. We do not even feel the need to thank them for being there. He must be feeling so agitated that here comes another person who will push me for doing his work first.
On an instinct I told him, "Sir, you please have your tea, I am not in a hurry." This man, who I had been meeting for the last few years, suddenly looked up at me and, for the first time we had an eye contact - he had never given me an eye contact earlier. I saw a different person there, another human being who is as hard pressed for time as I always am.
I saw both of us sailing in the same boat. I felt that he was also missing the small things of life like a hot cup of tea or lying in a warm bed for a few more minutes like me. He gave me a rare smile and said, "It is an everyday affair with me; you are not in a hurry but somebody else will come who will be in a hurry."
He really touched my heart with his wise words. I felt that we have all put shields on our hearts like we put gloves on our hands, we are scared to show our heart and reveal too much of ourselves. I felt that all this time I thought of him as a robot, someone who is there for my convenience, but today suddenly I felt a strange communion with him. I vowed to be more empathetic and friendly with people who help me with my work and be thankful that they are there for me. -
Butterfly and the Tree
Once there was a little creature resting on the branch of a mighty Oak that was Father of the forest. The little creature was sitting there sighing, and from time to time crying a little bit - its tiny body almost buckling under some unseen weight. Finally the great old Oak could listen no longer. In a voice belonging to a giant, but that was also as gentle as a breeze, the mighty Oak spoke out:
"Little creature, what is wrong with you?"
The little creature was surprised to feel such concern coming from anyone, let alone the tree in which it was perched. But sensing the overwhelming kindness that came along with the question, it answered as best it knew to do. The words came fairly spilling out its mouth, as if a pent-up stream of water waiting had been waiting to be released.
"Don't you see, that's just it... I mean... I'm not sure. Well, that's not entirely true."
"Whoa, slow down there little one," the Oak spoke in measured tones attempting to quiet the creature. "No need to be in a hurry telling me what you will. I've been standing here for centuries, so I'm not going anywhere. Can you be a little more specific about what' you're suffering over and maybe then we can get to the why?' part of it?"
Somewhat becalmed by these words, the creature started over. "Well, no matter how I look at it, nothing makes sense. I mean... I was sure it would be different than this."
The Oak considered this comment for a moment and asked the only question it could at that point: "What exactly was it that you thought would be so different?"
The little creature came out of its own thoughts for a moment as it realized the tree couldn't see what was so obvious to it.
"Why... being a butterfly, of course. When I used to think about becoming a butterfly, I thought to myself my problems would be left behind me - beneath me, if you will... but everything still irritates me. And," the little creature lowered its voice somewhat so as to be sure no one else would hear its next comment,
"I'm afraid a lot of the time. I figured that after I had become a butterfly, I just wouldn't have the fears that I used to have, but I still do! And that's not all... the past - it bothers me! I was sure that as a butterfly my former life wouldn't be a problem for me anymore."
The tall Oak tree looked at the little creature and knew instantly what was wrong.
"Yes, I see; what you've said makes a lot of sense now. But, let me ask you a couple more questions. We both need to get to the bottom of this problem if we're going to solve this mystery for you." And the little creature said, "Oh, thanks so much!"
The Oak continued, "Do you find yourself getting tripped up quite often?"
The little creature thought for a minute and said, "You know what? I do get tripped up. Yes! I trip quite often as a matter of fact!"
"And how about this?" the tree followed up. "Do you spend a lot of time chewing over things?"
"Yes. I spend a lot of time chewing over things."
"And are there times when it takes you a long time to get out of your own way?"
The little creature was amazed at the accuracy of the tree's questions. "You've tagged it for me! All these things you said about me are true."
"Well," the great Oak spoke again. "I think I've figured out the mystery here. Are you sure you want to know the answer?"
"Of course I do," said the creature, somewhat surprised at the question. "Please go ahead."
"All right then," said the tree, carefully measuring out the medicine it knew would be bitter to the little creature clinging to its branch. "Here's the reason for your continuing confusion about why life isn't to your liking:
You aren't a butterfly yet; you're still a caterpillar." -
Originally posted by NeverSayGoodBye:
Stealing Cookies
A young lady was waiting for her flight in a boarding room of a big airport. As she should need to wait many hours, she decided to buy a book to spend her time. She also bought a pack of cookies. She sat down in an armchair, in the VIP room of the airport, to rest and read in peace.
Beside the armchair where the packet of cookies lay, a man sat down in the next seat, opened his magazine and started reading. When she took out the first cookie, the man took one also. She felt irritated but said nothing. She just thought, "What the nerve! If I was in the mood, I would punch him for daring!"
For each cookie she took, the man took one too. This was infuriating her but she didn't want to cause a scene. When only one cookie remained, she thought: "Ah... what this abusive man do now?"
Then, the man taking the last cookie, divided it into half, giving her one half.
"Ah! That's too much!" she thought. She was too much angry now! In a huff, she took her book, her things and stormed to the boarding place. When she sat down in her seat inside the plane, she looked into her purse to take her eyeglasses, and to her surprise, her packet of cookies was there, untouched... unopened.
She felt so ashamed! She realized that she was wrong... she forgotten that her cookies were kept in her purse. The man had divided his cookies with her, without feeling angered or bitter, while she had been very angry, thinking that she was dividing his cookies with him.
And now, there are no chance to explain or apologize.veri nice story :):):)
hmm the man is so kind, i wld like him to be my husband
just kiddin!!
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Originally posted by cutepanpan:
veri nice story :):):)
hmm the man is so kind, i wld like him to be my husband
just kiddin!!
it's ok, he is all yours...
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did u invent the story yaself or hear from others? haha
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Originally posted by cutepanpan:
did u invent the story yaself or hear from others? haha
.....haha, no no, I can't write those. They're from books I read -
@NeverSayGoodbye.
you make me cry like a baby with <True Love> :p
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Originally posted by incywincy:
@NeverSayGoodbye.
you make me cry like a baby with <True Love> :p
.....oh gosh, how many box of tissues did you used? -
The Greedy Sons
There was once a hard-working and generous farmer who had several idle and greedy sons. On his deathbed he told them that the would find his treasure if they were to dig in a certain field. As soon as the old man was dead, the sons hurried to the fields, which they dug up from one end to another, and with increasing desperation and concentration when they did not find the gold in the place indicated.
But they found no gold at all. Realizing that in his generosity their father must have given his gold away during his lifetime, they abandoned their search. Finally, it occurred to them that, since the land had been prepared they might as well now sow a crop. They planted wheat, which produced an abundant yield. They sold this crop and prospered that year.
After the harvest was in, the sons thought again about the bare possibility that they might have missed the buried gold, so they again dug up the fields, with the same result. After several years they became accustomed to labor, and to the cycle of the seasons, something which they had not understood before.
Now they understood the reason for their father's method of training them, and they became honest and contented farmers. Ultimately, they found themselves possessed of sufficient wealth and no longer to wonder about the hidden hoard. -
Ghandi and Some Sugar
A woman once came to Gandhi and asked him to please tell her son to give up eating sugar. Gandhi asked the woman to bring the boy back in a week. Exactly one week later the woman returned, and Gandhi said to the boy, "Please give up eating sugar." The woman thanked the Mahatma, and, as she turned to go, asked him why he had not said those words a week ago."
Gandhi replied, "Because a week ago, I had not given up eating sugar." -
A Pair of Pears
There was a king who had a daughter who was very ill. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her. She just seemed miserable and cried often.
One night the princess dreamed that if she ate a pair of very special pears she would get well. In order to learn what would make the pears so special, she would have to meet with each person who brought pears to her. Her mother the queen, decreed that whoever brought in the very special pears that healed the princess, would have the opportunity to marry the princess, if she wanted to marry him.
Hundreds of young men brought baskets of pears to the princess. She talked for a long time to each of the young men, and ate their pears, but none of them made her feel better.
One farmer who had very sweet and juicy pears as well as three sons told his eldest son, the most handsome of the three, to take a basket of pears to the princess. On the way to the princess the handsome son met a dwarf who related how hungry he was. The dwarf saw the basket and said, “You must be taking pears to heal the princess. Please give me a few pears so I will not starve.”
The handsome son didn’t want to give away even one pear, especially to a dwarf. He was afraid that any pear given away might turn out to be the special one of the pair that would heal the princess. Then he would lose the chance to marry her.
So he said to the hungry man, “The only pears I have in this basket are pairs of pig’s feet.” The hungry man, who was really the prophet Elijah in disguise, replied, “Amen! So shall it be.” Then he walked away.
When the handsome son was brought to the princess, he opened his basket to show her his pears, and it was filled with pairs of pig’s feet. The princess fainted. The king ordered the eldest son to be thrown out into the street.
When the handsome son returned home he didn’t want to tell anybody what had happened so he just said that the pears didn’t work. The farmer then decided to send his middle son, the one who was tall, strong and had lovely blond hair, to bring the farmer’s best pears to the princess.
On the road to the castle the tall blond son also met Elijah, who was disguised this time as a poor beggar who was deaf in one ear. The blond son also didn’t want to help the beggar, even though he seemed very hungry.
The tall blond son said, “I can’t help you. The only pears I have in this basket are pairs of pig’s ears.” “Amen!” said Elijah, “so shall it be.”
When the tall blond son was brought to the princess he opened his basket and it was filled to the top with pairs of pig’s ears. The princess became nauseous and threw up. The king had the blond son thrown out the window into the street. When the middle son returned home he also didn’t tell anybody what happened.
The youngest son wasn’t very handsome, and he wasn’t tall or blond, but he was very kind and considerate. He begged his father to let him go because he wanted to help the princess, although he didn’t think she would want to marry him. On the road to the princess he also met Elijah disguised as a beggar with ugly sores and scabs all over his face and arms.
He felt sorry for the ugly beggar, and even before the beggar asked, he offered half of the pears in the basket to the man saying, “I pray these pears are good for you.” Elijah took them and replied, “Amen! So shall it be good for you.”
When the youngest son opened his basket before the princess she asked why it was only half filled with pears. He told her about offering half the basket of pears to the beggar who was covered with sores and scabs. The princess began to cry. The youngest son apologized for making her cry, but to his surprise she suddenly hugged him. They spent the whole day talking and the princess felt better and better. By the next day she was feeling great. A month later she told the youngest son she wanted to marry him, and that is what she did. -
Life Is Beautiful
Do you remember the name of your kindergarden teacher? I do, mine. Her name was Mrs White. And I remember thinking she must be some older relation of Walt Disney's Snow White, because she had the same bright blue eyes, short dark hair, red lips and fair skin.
I don't remember much about what we learned in her class, but my mother once told me that we used to write a lot. And I would bring back what I wrote and she would look at it and see there were so many mistakes. But no red corrections. And always a star. Sometimes even a Good! scrawled in that would make my heart soar with happiness. But it worried my mother, so one day when she went in to meet Mrs White for one of those Parent-Teacher meetings, she asked her why she never corrected my mistakes. Why she never red-pencilled in the right spellings of words or pointed out grammatical errors.
And my mother says Mrs White said-The children are just beginning to get excited about using words, about forming sentences. I don't want to dampen that enthusiasm with red ink. Spelling and grammar can wait. The wonder of words won't... And maybe she didn't say it Exactly like that. It was a long time ago. And what my mother gave me was the gist of what she could remember. The rest I added in. Because I grew up learning to use words with loving confidence like that.
And it occurs to me that if Mrs White had used her red pen more precisely I probably wouldn't be telling you about this now. Which is kind of obvious but also kind of not. I look back now and think she must have been a rather extraordinary teacher- to exercise such red-pen-restraint. To allow the joy, wonder and excitement of expression flower- however faultily- like that. Because to bloom is better than not to bloom. And a bud once nipped never opens. May we all be so kind...
I used to misspell beautiful a lot. Never could quite remember that the e went before the a. It exasperated my teacher in high school no end. If I was going to employ the word with such lavishness she figured the least I could do was spell it right. Eventually the e's and a's settled into their right places of their own accord. Am glad I didn't wait on them though. Pretty is easier to spell but it doesn't hold as much as you mean sometimes.
And thanks to Mrs White I had no qualms about writing what I meant even if couldn't quite spell it out. Because Life isn't Pretty. It's Baeutiful. -
Gratitude is the memory of the heart
Cari Stein was 26 at the time and had just moved to Baltimore to take on a new challenge. She had been hired for her dream job--as a producer for a network television station. Life was good.
"I remember the day, shortly after I started the job," Cari recalls. "I felt sick to my stomach. I had to go lie down in the green room and rest after the script was ready and we were about to go on air."
She ignored the symptoms because she couldn't afford to take time off work. And, she says, "I was really enjoying myself. But it got so bad I finally went to a doctor and found out I had a serious infection and needed to be hospitalised." Being new in town and alone, Cari decided to return home to a hospital in Brooklyn, New York.
"I spent the following week in a hospital, with my mother and father by my side," Cari remembers. "We played board games, cards, and talked about life. Afterward, during my recuperation, we shopped, relaxed at the local pool, and enjoyed each other's company. And once I was comfortable eating again, my father brought delicious corned beef sandwiches from my family's delicatessen. It turned out to be a special time in my life."
But what made it even more significant and poignant than she ever could have imagined is that a few months later her mother died of a heart attack. Had Cari not been ill, she would have missed out on all those special moments she shared with her parents. She understood that she had been given the gift of time with her mom, her best friend. What had appeared to be adversity became a blessing.
As it happened, Cari was not in Brooklyn the night her mother died; she had returned to Baltimore to go back to work. At 2:00 A.M.she received a call from her sister-in-law. Her mother, only 54 at the time, had died as she was getting ready for bed.
"It was a crushing blow and probably the most defining moment of my life." Cari says.
Today, 25 years later, thinking about that night still brings tears to her eyes. "But thinking about those weeks the summer before my mother died makes me smiles," she says. "It turns out that my infection was no accident or coincidence, it was a gift--a chance to spend uninterrupted time with my mother, to enjoy ourselves and bask in our love for each other. For that I will be forever grateful."
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Anybody with sore feet has no other problems.
A poor man is walking down the street, limping and pulling faces. It’s obvious that every step is agony for him. A woman passing by notices him and feels sorry for him. She looks at the man’s feet. It’s obvious that the shoes he’s wearing are far too small. She goes up to him and says: “Are you all right?” You seem to have problems.”
“Problems?!” says the man. “I’ll tell you the mess I’m in. My wife has left me—she ran off with the postman. My son has dropped out of school and become a drug addict. My daughter is earning extra pocket money as a prostitute at the Grand Hotel, and I’m being chased up by the Inland Revenue for unpaid taxes.”
“Oh dear!” said the woman, sympathizing. “That’s awful. In addition to all that, I see you appear to be wearing shoes that are too small for you.”
“Yes, these shoes are size 8 and I actually take 91/2.”
“But isn’t it incredibly painful, wearing shoes as small as that?”
“Yes, it certainly is. I can hardly think about anything else when I’m wearing these shoes. The only pleasure I have left in life is coming home from work in the evening and taking off these blasted shoes. It feels good.”
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The Blessing of Imperfections
There was once a man in India whose duty was to fetch water for his master’s house. He used two large pots, which hung on each end of a pole that he balanced on his neck. One of the pots was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house. The other pot, however, had a crack in it and arrived only half full. For two years this went on, the man only able to deliver three-quarters of the amount he started with.
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its imperfections and miserable that it was only able to accomplish half of what it had been created to do. One day by the stream, the cracked pot finally spoke to the water bearer about its perceived failure.
“I am so ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.”
“Why?” asked the young man. “What are you ashamed of?”
“For these past two years, I’ve only been able to deliver half of my load because this crack on my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. My flaw hasn’t allowed you to get the full value for your efforts,” the pot said.
The water bearer felt sorry for the cracked pot, and compassionately replied, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.”
Indeed, as they went up the hill, the cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wildflowers on its side of the trail, and this lightened its mood. But at the of the walk, it still felt bad because it had once again leaked half its load. It apologized once more.
The man quickly responded: “Did you notice that there were flowers on your side of the path but not on the other? That’s because I’ve always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I’ve been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he wouldn’t have this beauty to grace his house.”
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Two Wolves
An elder Cherokee was teaching his grandchildren. He said to them:
''A fight is going on inside me. It is a terrible fight. It is between two wolves: One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, gulit, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. This same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other person, too."
They thought about it for a minute, then one child asked his grandfather:
"Which wolf will win?"
The old Cherokee simply replied...."The one you feed."
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Originally posted by NeverSayGoodBye:
True Love
It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.
I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.
While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.
The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health.
He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease.
As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late.
He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.
I was surprised, and asked him, 'And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?'
He smiled as he patted my hand and said,
"She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is."Sob sob sob... Bwaaaaahhhhh! I love you! (to my wife)
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woah.. nice stories! I enjoyed reading every one of them. Keep them coming!
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the first one is �饼贼��
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Life Explained
A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.
"Not very long," answered the Mexican.
"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.
The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.
The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"
"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs. I have a full life."
The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."
"And after that?" asked the Mexican.
"With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."
"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.
"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American.
"And after that?"
"Afterwards? Well my friend, that's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!"
"Millions? Really? And after that?" asked the Mexican.
"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends." -
Don’t limit your potential
My father tended to and raised a beautiful vegetable garden and we would sell the produce at a roadside stand we’d built ourselves. My parents always bought their chickens from a neighbour named Willy Scott.
One day, when we were all out working at the vegetable stand Willy delivered some chickens to the house in a crate and left them on the front patio. When we returned home later that day we discovered that the chickens had escaped and were running all over the yard. Everyone in the family began chasing the chickens and putting them back in the crate.
My father was upset and decided to call Willy to express his unhappiness with the situation. He told him that he didn’t think it was a good idea to leave the chickens in a crate unattended, and how the family had had to chase chickens all around the neighbourhood; finally, he noted that they’d only been able to round up eleven. And then Willy provided a bit of a shock.
“Eleven chickens isn’t too bad, “he exclaimed, “ I only delivered six!”
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The Tiger and the Fox
A fox who lived in the deep forest of long ago had lost its front legs. No one knew how: perhaps escaping from a trap. A man who lived on the edge of the forest , seeing the fox from time to time, wondered how in the world it managed to get its food. One day when the fox was not far from him he had to hide himself quickly because a tiger was approaching. The tiger had fresh game in its claws. Lying down on the ground, it ate its fill, leaving the rest for the fox.
Again the next day the great Provider of this world sent provisions to the fox by this same tiger. The man began to think: "If this fox is taken care of in this mysterious way, its food sent by some unseen Higher Power, why don't I just rest in a corner and have my daily meal provided for me?"
Because he had a lot of faith, he let the days pass, waiting for food. Nothing happened. He just went on losing weight and strength until he was nearly a skeleton. Close to losing consciousness, he heard a Voice which said: "O you, who have mistaken the way, see now the Truth! You should have followed the example of that tiger instead of imitating the disabled fox."