A STRANGE GOOD-BYE
Years ago when things were much more simple
and life moved at a much slower pace, before things became so complicated and difficult,
there lived a very clever rat who made his living selling hats.
Now you may think selling hats is a rather foolish
occupation for such a clever rat but although this rat was exceedingly clever, he was
content to travel across the land and simply sell hats.
One afternoon as the rat was relaxing in a small public
house at a crossroads, a skunk came in through the door and ordered a cold pint from the
owner of the establishment.
"Good day," the rat said.
"And a very good day to you, brother rat," the
skunk said. "Do you mind?"
"Not at all," the rat said. "Please pull up a
chair and join me. I've just come in myself to have a little refreshment and take a break
from my travels. And you, kind sir?"
"The same. I dare say we are brothers cut from the same
cloth?"
"Well, I suppose," the rat said. "Hats. I
sell hats, my good friend. All I sell are good, sturdy hats that a creature can be proud
of, that's all. Say you're raccoon working in the fields and you need something to shield
your eyes from the devil sun? I've got a hat for you."
"Nothing fancy?" the skunk asked.
"Oh, no. Just work hats, my good friend. Just good old
fashioned work hats with a purpose."
"I see," the skunk said thoughtfully. "But
you certainly seen like a clever rat. Couldn't you increase your station in life if you
sold something a little more, well, I don't know, a little more fashionable, as it
were?"
"I suppose," the rat said, taking a long pull on
his drink. "But I love the life, you know. No worries, my time is my own. If I make a
sale, well, fine. If not, I'll spend the night in the clover and try again the next day. I
travel a lot, you see. Always on the go. It's quite a carefree life as you can tell."
"I see, I see," the skunk said. "But the
rewards, I reckon, they are so large with your hats. Take my hats, for instance."
"Then you sell hats, too?" the rat asked.
"Oh yes," the skunk replied. "That's why I
recognized you. That's why I recognized you as a brother cut from the same cloth. But here
is my secret, my friend: I sell fancy hats."
"Is that right?"
"Oh yes. The fancier the better, old boy. And I like
you. I'm going to make you an offer. What do you think of that?"
"Well, I'm stunned," the rat said. "Providing
it is an offer that interests me."
The skunk looked about to make sure no one else was
listening. The only other creature in the public house was a dour old inn keeper dusting
the shelves.
"Ten pieces of gold," the skunk whispered.
"Beg your pardon?"
"I am willing to let you have the works for only ten
pieces of gold," the skunk said. "You can have my whole stock. Everything! I'll
sell out to you. Think of it, my good fellow. I'm going to give you the opportunity of a
lifetime. No more slurking about the countryside with common hats. You're have the finest
hats ever seen. What do you say?"
"Oh, I don't think so," the rat said and took
another swig of his drink. "After all—"
"Normally I wouldn't make a big deal of this, my
friend," the skunk said, "but I don't think you can dare to pass up this
opportunity."
"But it if is so great," the rat inquired,
"why do you want to sell?"
"Ah, I was hoping it wouldn't get to that point. You
see, it is my health. I'm not as young as I used to be. Who knows how many more days I
might have left. And why not pass this golden opportunity on to another fellow creature of
the forest such as yourself."
"I'm sorry," the rat said, now sitting up a little
straighter. "I didn't know."
"It's all right, old chap. Who among us ever knows?
Besides, it might be best if I just wander off into the forest and never be heard from
again. That's my best choice, I suppose."
"Now wait," the rat said. "Ten pieces of gold
isn't that much for your health, friend. I mean, I am quite content with my common hats,
but . . . I'll do it."
And so the deal struck. The rat gave ten pieces of gold to
the skunk and suddenly the rat was in the business of selling fancy hats.
The very first day he set out to sell the fancy hats, he
encountered a weasel who was hoeing his garden.
"Say, brother," the rat yelled from the roadway.
"Do you need a hat?"
"I shor' do," the weasel said in return. "The
sun's mighty powerful this day and I'm shor' needin' a hat to help me out. What have you
got there, young fella?"
"Well, it's your lucky day," the rat said
excitedly. "I've got some special hats this time."
Making his way across to the old weasel, the rat opened his
bag of hats and showed them to the weasel.
"Well," the weasel said, "you've got yourself
a whole bag full of fancy hats, friend. I just need an old fashioned hat to keep the sun
off my face, that's all. What kind of plain hats do you have?"
"B-B-But these fancy hats are just about perfect,"
the rat insisted.
"Not perfect for me. Didn't you come by here last year
with a gaggle of plain hats? Wasn't that you? If'n you had more, I'd buy 'em. But I shor'
don't need them fancy hats, friend. Maybe next year."
And the story was the same where ever the rat went. Nobody
needed the fancy hats. They wanted—and needed—plain, old fashioned hats that
kept the sun off them while they worked. But the rat had nothing but fancy hats.
Soon, the rat grew to hate his work. He took no joy in the
days he spent trying to sell hats that no one wanted. He spent every night sleeping in the
clover because he could not afford to stay at an inn. Rain or shine, the rat worked the
crossroads and the by ways but found nothing but frustration and disappointment.
Then one day as the rat rested in the shade of an old
hickory tree, another creature of the highway came and sat down next to him. The rat spied
a bag at the fellow's feet.
"I dare say we are brothers of the same cloth,"
said the rat.
The frog glanced up at him with a quizzical look.
"Pardon me?" the frog asked.
"Well, I was noticing your bag, friend, and I remarked
that we are creatures cut from the same cloth. On the road selling? Hats, perhaps?"
"Why, yes," the weary frog confirmed.
"What kind of hats are you selling?"
"Oh," the frog sighed and then rubbed his eyes,
"very plain hats, my friend. Extremely plain, ordinary hats."
"I see," the rat said, his mind beginning to work
like a steel trap. "Well, I've got some very fancy rats and it seems to
me—"
But the rat stopped short. He simply could not, in good
conscience, try to trick the frog. Yes, the frog was carrying plan ordinary hats, exactly
the kind the rat used to sell to his customers; exactly the kind his customers were
demanding. It would be so easy to unload all of the rat's fancy hats on this unsuspecting
fool, but the rat simply could not do it. He decided right then and there he could not do
to the simple frog what the skunk had done to him.
"How's business?" the rat asked.
"Terrible," the frog moaned. "Nobody wants
these hats. It's like selling ice to the Eskimos."
"I know what you mean, brother," the rat said.
"I used to lead a very carefree life. Loved it, I did. But now, I can't make a sale
if my life depended on it, which is does, actually."
"I know exactly what you mean."
The frog and rat sat in the shade of the old hickory tree
and rested. It was quiet for a few minutes. The silence felt good to the rat because he
had resisted the temptation to take advantage of this bug-eyed frog. He had taken the high
road and for once, the rat was proud of himself. He was indeed a very clever—
"What are you selling?" the frog asked.
"Hats. Fancy hats," the rat replied.
"You're kidding! You've got fancy hats? I could a
million of them. My customers have been begging—I mean actually begging for fancy
hats."
"Not mine," the rat said. "They want plain,
ordinary hats. That's all."
"Well, I've got an idea," the frog exclaimed.
"I've got plain hats that I can't sell and you've got fancy hats that you can't sell.
My customers are begging for fancy hats and I suppose your customers are not. Am I
correct?"
"Yes, you are."
"Well, may I be so bold as to suggest we swap our
stock? I'll sell the fancy hats and you sell—"
"I'll sell the plain hats," cried the rat, unable
to wait for the frog to say it.
"Of course!" the frog said, "of course!"
"Well, I was going to suggest the very same thing
myself," the rat said. "I can't stand these miserable fancy hats. Besides, I'm
losing my shirt because of these."
"And these hats and useless!" the frog said.
So they shook paws under the shade of the hickory tree and
sealed the deal. As soon as the rat got a good look at the plain, old fashioned hats, he
couldn't help asking.
"Where did you get these hats?"
"You won't believe it," the frog said. "I
used to sell pots and pans and made quite a good living at it, too. Then some skunk came
along—"
"And sold them to you for ten pieces of gold?" the
rat asked.
"How did you know?" the frog inquired.
"His health is failing?" the rat continued.
"Exactly!"
"Well, my friend," the rat said, "next time
you find that skunk I'd be happy to extract my ten pieces of gold from him, and then let
you do the same. He tricked me just as well."
"It will be my pleasure," the frog said. "But
for now, I'd best get going. I know lots of places I can sell these fancy hats."
"And I'd better go, too," the rat said, glad to
have his plain, ordinary hats back. "But come to think of it, ten pieces of gold is a
small price to learn this important lesson."
"And what lesson is that, my good fellow?" the
frog asked.
"That I am perfectly content to sell ordinary hats. I
don't need fancy hats and they certainly don't need me."
The End |
