| Not very long ago there
were two sheep who put on wolf's clothing and went among the wolves as spies, to see what
was going on. They arrived on a fete day, when all the wolves were singing in the taverns
or dancing in the street. The first sheep said to his companion, "Wolves are just
like us, for they gambol and frisk. Every day is fete day in Wolfland." He made some
notes on a piece of paper (which a spy should never do) and he headed them "My
Twenty-Four Hours in Wolfland," for he had decided not to be a spy any longer but to
write a book on Wolfland and also some articles for the Sheep's Home Companion. The other
sheep guessed what he was planning to do, so he slipped away and began to write a book
called "My Ten Hours in Wolfland." The first sheep suspected what was up when he
found his friend had gone, so he wired a book to his publisher called "My Five Hours
in Wolfland," and it was announced for publication first. The other sheep immediately
sold his manuscript to a newspaper syndicate for serialization. Both sheep gave the same
message to their fellows: wolves were just like sheep, for they gambolled and frisked, and
every day was fete day in Wolfland. The citizens of Sheepland were convinced by all this,
so they drew in their sentinels and they let down their barriers. When the wolves
descended on them one night, howling and slavering, the sheep were as easy to kill as
flies on a windowpane. Moral: Don't get
it right, just get it written.
[End] |