Lronius de la Mancha
08-06-2001, 08:26 PM
A master and his pupil headed on a long journey to a distant temple. A few hours from their monastery they were attacked by a large band of brigands, and had to give up their food. The pupil wanted to go back since the monastery was so close, but the master chided him for his eagerness to quit and counseled him to cultivate patience as something would inevitably come up.
But the area they traveled through had always been nearly desert, and the year had been particularly harsh. No food was to be found, and the abandoned villages they passed through had been stripped. Soon their exertions began to take their toll, and they realized that they were in the process of starving to death and they would never make it back to their monastery.
Three days after this realization, as they staggered deliriously along the trail, they came upon the bloated flyblown remains of a dog that had apparently died a few days previously. The pupil, heedless of the stench, fell upon the carcass and began to tear gobbets of maggoty flesh from it's burst abdomen and stuff them in his mouth. After a minute or so, as his stomach clenched and spasmed around the unfamiliar meal, he looked up and saw his master was seated serenely by the road and watching clouds. "Master, you shouldn't be so fastidious. This meat is the difference between life and death."
The master smiled and counseled him to cultivate patience, as something better would surely turn up.
The pupil looked at his master in shock. Then he looked at the dog's carcass. Then he looked at himself.
His stomach cramped painfully and he projectile vomited all he had eaten onto the road, then collapsed and continued to dry heave convulsively. Blinded by tears, he could only hear the sound of the masters rubbing his chopsticks together as he approached the puddle, murmuring the while "Now do you see the virtue of patience? You ate cold dog, but I shall have a hot meal."
But the area they traveled through had always been nearly desert, and the year had been particularly harsh. No food was to be found, and the abandoned villages they passed through had been stripped. Soon their exertions began to take their toll, and they realized that they were in the process of starving to death and they would never make it back to their monastery.
Three days after this realization, as they staggered deliriously along the trail, they came upon the bloated flyblown remains of a dog that had apparently died a few days previously. The pupil, heedless of the stench, fell upon the carcass and began to tear gobbets of maggoty flesh from it's burst abdomen and stuff them in his mouth. After a minute or so, as his stomach clenched and spasmed around the unfamiliar meal, he looked up and saw his master was seated serenely by the road and watching clouds. "Master, you shouldn't be so fastidious. This meat is the difference between life and death."
The master smiled and counseled him to cultivate patience, as something better would surely turn up.
The pupil looked at his master in shock. Then he looked at the dog's carcass. Then he looked at himself.
His stomach cramped painfully and he projectile vomited all he had eaten onto the road, then collapsed and continued to dry heave convulsively. Blinded by tears, he could only hear the sound of the masters rubbing his chopsticks together as he approached the puddle, murmuring the while "Now do you see the virtue of patience? You ate cold dog, but I shall have a hot meal."