Bribem's a temp at the post office.

We were on the road, out of touch with Bribem and all the other fable characters hanging out in the Green Room. I found a note pinned to the door when we returned.

To The Fabulist:
I have gotten tired of waiting for you, and will be unavailable until the New Year, having taken a temp job in the Post Office.
Who else but Bribem Beaver could tackle that notorious holiday log jam?

So what do I do? I'll think about putting up another fable over on that Google Docs site I've started to use. Maybe tomorrow.
If I don't get a temp job at the post office.

You Won't Believe...

     You won't believe this: Bribem texted to apologize for another delay. Protective Services is sending a caseworker to inspect the bed of cut branches his pups are sleeping on. One of the pups the called the caseworker to complain about wood ticks.
     So I went ahead and put up another tale, on Google Docs. Here's the address
Ants, Grasshoppers, and the Enlightened Farmer - Google Docs
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YXZVCZfr4Qn5oEeKmmkip1Gh8xGR-iO68bY3yWfA9KI/edit?pli=1#Ants, Grasshoppers, and the Enlightened Farmer

By the way, I believe if you "follow" this blog, you'll get a notice when there's a new post. 

Bribem Tied up by the Building Inspector and Corps of Engineers

      I really thought we'd see Bribem today. But he phoned while I was out. Here's his message: 
      "Damn dam needs to be passed by building inspector. Can't come today. And the stream drains to the Atlantic Ocean, which means Corps of Engineers (Army) have to check it out. Will call when free."
     So while we wait for Bribem to get his life back, I'll print another of the fables from the 70's.
     But I had so much trouble uploading Word docs to here that I'll just put in a link to a Google Docs site where you can read them from now on.
     The title is "Reg Fox and the Scab Grapes."
https://docs.google.com/document/edit?id=1q9YeJX1MV6jJ2oiburM1uFtS3xDH9DTD5PVJBvAk6ZY&hl=en#
     That Google site should be accessible, even though it's "https."
    

Bribem's Delayed Again!

     Bribem's Delayed Again
 
      No! 
     What bad luck! 
     Bribem just texted again (this is a day or two after the other post.)     
     Here's what he said:

              Permit! Delinquent! Sptphff. Can't make it. Again!!!

     I translate that to mean he forgot to get a building permit for the strengthening of the dam he's working on, and was therefore considered delinquent in technical terms, having done the work before applying for the permit. (Earlier in his life, that word, delinquent, would have applied in a different way.)
     Maybe I made a mistake in planning to open with Bribem. Knowing him as I do, for the past year of so, I find him usually reliable. Fortunately, I still have those tales from the 1970s plus a lot of new ones. Here's another in the series:

Reg Fox, Prisoner, and a Bird


     Reg Fox rejoiced that he could see at least a patch of sky through a chink the size of two BankAmericards high up on the wall of his windowless cell. One morning, however, he discovered a tangle of twigs stretched across the opening.
     A sparrow's nest gradually took shape as the sun climbed its way up in the morning sky. As the bird came and went on its errands of construction, the prisoner struggled with the issues.
     He has a right to a home, as do I. All creatures (according to the chaplain) deserve reverence. Yet he will cut off completely the view of the sky that has sustained me through these long months. Why must I sacrifice my contact with the outside world in order to honor this fellow creature's right to a home? At that point Reg got an idea.
      The next time the bird appeared, he cried, "Ho, Bird! Since you, by your action, have blocked my connection with freedom without so much as a building permit, don't you think you owe me something in return?"
     The bird shrugged and asked what Reg had in mind.
Reg explained that the warden habitually laid his keys on a rock at the creek at evening wash-up time. All the bird needed to do was seize the keys when the warden's back was turned. The bird readily agreed, stole the keys as planned, delivered them through the hole to the prisoner, and watched his escape.
     Alas! A new prisoner took up residence in the cell. This lout destroyed the nest and eggs in his attempt to enlarge the hole and his chance for freedom.
     Moral:
     Before you would a-rescuing go,
     Better check the quid pro quo.

Bribem's Initial Problem

Oh-oh. Bribem just texted:

Be late. Dam. Saplings. Sorry.

I take him to mean that his dam is leaking and he has to strengthen it with saplings so it doesn't give way.

Too bad.

 I just hope he doesn't have to use too many from his winter supply. We're in the northern hemisphere, it's October, winter's not far away. Last I checked, he had a pretty good supply of saplings in the lodge and some stored on the lake bank. The whole family will be eating them all winter.

I met Bribem about a year ago when he showed up in some fables I'm writing.

While we wait for him, why don't I print one I wrote in the 1970s. That was long before I met Bribem, Ollie and Olga Owl, Anne Aardvark, and quite a few other characters who all hang out in the Green Room between acting jobs in fables. Or tales--some of these stories don't quite make it as fables.

So, here's one from the 1970s.

The Fox and the Snare

Reginald Fox made a deal with a human farmer, Brown, a chicken farmer; Brown, a sometime animal lover, would permit Reg to steal a chicken every so often, provided that the fox would tell all the other foxes that the farmer's fake snares were dangerous, undetectable, and placed at all possible approaches to the hen yard.  Brown and Reg agreed that this plan would minimize the losses of both chickens and foxes.

The arrangement worked well. Reg so intimidated all the other foxes that they consistently omitted farmer Brown's from their daily rounds.

However, one day Reg was shocked to discover a moving van delivering to the farmhouse the possessions of a new owner;

"Sold!" cried Reg. "And without telling me! What will become of my arrangement?" Reg became agitated, pacing around in the woods looking at the farm from every angle. Suddenly, there he was, the new owner out checking the snares!

What a predicament! thought Reg. Brown may have told him of our agreement, in which case he is just trying to scare all the other foxes into leaving him alone, as before. But why did not Brown tell me he was going to sell and reassure me that the new owner would honor our agreement. No! Brown probably intended to betray me; the new owner, setting real snares, will catch me as a warning to all the other foxes.

Reg paced, and paced, working himself into a state of doubt and confusion, not to mention a cavernous hunger.

But surely Brown realized, Reg went on plaguing himself, that living words are a more potent warning than a dead body. He must simply have neglected to tell me that the arrangement will continue.

Reg continued seesawing between confusion, doubts, and hopeful trust. Far into the evening he paced, until he could stand neither his hunger nor his uncertainty any longer.

He set out rapidly along the main path to the hen yard, stepped on what he thought was a fake snare blocking his path, and was seen hanging high in the air by the first fox to arrive the next morning.

Moral:

Humans and foxes, driven to find out,

Will sooner hang with certainty

Than long suspend in doubt.