The Crow Eats the Fox’s Grapes

The Fox had just abandoned the quest for his grapes as the Crow flew in to the tree where his friend had just been sitting.

“Fox!” cawed the Crow as he landed on a branch and eyed the plump grapes dangling from a vine a mere beak’s-length away. “Would you care to share some of this luscious fruit with me?”

“Luscious indeed,” sniffed the Fox as he continued on his way. The Crow arched his wings in an approximation of a shrug and reached forward to grasp a grape.

Luscious was, indeed, the wrong word to describe it. Succulent, extravagant, even heavenly would, perhaps, be more fitting, though even they could hardly contain the juiciness and sweetness of the fruit.

“It is a shame the Fox didn’t care to partake in this treasure with me,” thought the Crow, perhaps a little dishonestly, for while the thought of saving some of his bounty for his friend did cross his mind, he did not ponder it long. He joyfully ate every grape on the vine.

The next day, however, he was too sick to fly or even to remain perched on his branch. And when the Fox came and found him splayed out on the ground in pain with all the grapes gone, the sharp-toothed canine pounced on his former friend in anger and thus, after a satisfying dinner, got to taste the non-sourness of his grapes for dessert.

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