Fables of a Father

October 26, 2010

A Father came home from work to find his son sitting on the couch playing X-box.  “Hello son,” the father said.  The Boy was not listening and was unresponsive to the Father.  “I see you playing your video games.  Have you finished your schoolwork?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” the boy whined.

The Father recounted a fable from Aesop of the Ant and the Grasshopper.  The boy rolled his eyes the entire way through.  “So you see son, it is better to work hard now instead of putting it off for another day.”

“Nice story,” the boy sarcastically remarked.  “I thought you and mom were going to have dinner ready by now.”

“She is picking up some meatloaf from the Deli.  She will be home soon.”

“Meatloaf?” the boy cried. “I hate meatloaf!  We never eat what I want to eat.”  He began putting his i-pod headphones in his ears.  The Father firmly placed his hands on the boy’s and told him another of Aesop’s fables, this one about a Town Mouse and a Country Mouse.

“You see?” the Father said after he had finished.  “It is better to eat bread in peace than cake in fear.”

“Whatever,” the boy replied.  “Is your stupid story time done now?”

The Father was growing perturbed at his son’s indignity.  He tried one last time to use Aesop’s wisdom.

“One wintry day a Woodman was tramping home from his work when he saw something black lying on the snow. When he came closer he saw it was a Serpent which looked dead. But he took it up and put it in his bosom to warm while he hurried home. As soon as he got indoors he put the Serpent down on the hearth before the fire. The children watched it and saw it slowly come to life again. Then one of them stooped down to stroke it, but the Serpent raised its head and put out its fangs and was about to sting the child to death. So the Woodman seized his axe, and with one stroke cut the Serpent in two. ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘No gratitude from the wicked.’”

“What the hell does that mean?” the son inquired, raising his voice at his Father.  He turned his eyes back to the video game.

“That means,” the Father clarified as he slowly took the game controller out of his son’s hands.  “If you don’t get your ass upstairs and do your homework right now, I’m going to chop your head off and shove meatloaf down your neckhole.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he rushed to his room, textbooks in hand.

The moral of the story is that white people need to beat their kids.

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