Once
upon a time, not too long ago, in a land not too far away, there
was a village of civilized men.
The most respected was a wise old
cook. Each time he cooked up a pot of
stew, he added something different.
He added
fish or beans, with of course, all the usual vegetables, the ones that
are always good. However,
what made the stew really tasty was a secret sauce. The wise old cook
said he had traveled far and wide to find it and had spent many years
studying to perfect it. Of
course, no one had ever tasted this sauce before. No one knew what it was made of
or where it could possibly have come from, and no one thought of asking
the cook.
The
men thought they were clever enough themselves to figure out such simple
things
as that if they wanted to. Many
of the civilized men thought the sauce had always existed, and others
argued that it was the cook's own invention. In fact, many books were
written on the subject. But
one thing was for certain— the sauce was magical, really soft
and tingly, yet ever so subtle and very, very tasty! This is why the cook loved to cook
this stew--he knew it was the meal which
pleased his men the most. They
always begged for fourths!
As time
passed, and after many hearty meals had been devoured, the men thought
they had a good idea. They
decided they deserved to be served this wonderful stew for dinner every
night of the week. The cook
warned that they might get sick of the stew and never want to eat it again,
but the men just laughed at the idea. The cook saw that it was pointless
to waste his time arguing with the men, so he did as they wished.
He didn’t mind as this gave him time to do other things
he liked more than cooking.
More
time passed and with it many hearty meals, and the men thought they had
an even better idea than before.
Such a good thought it was, that they were shocked that they hadn't
thought of it before. They
told the cook that they would
like to have his delicious stew for breakfast, lunch and dinner every
day of the week! The
cook again warned that they would get sick of the stew or even
worse, forget about all the other wonderful dishes that he enjoyed cooking
for them. But the men refused to listen.
The stew was so good that the civilized men had to have
it at every meal. The cook sighed and agreed to
do as they wished. The stew
was easy to make and left him time to go out and do other things
which pleased him more.
Time
passed and after many, many, many hearty meals had been devoured, the
men believed that the stew was so good that some wrote poems and others
wrote songs, and legends of the sauce appeared.
But
then, one day, some of the men thought they had discovered the greatest
of all thoughts. (Later these men were called 'the
philosophers' because of discovering this “Great Thought”.)
They crept into the cook's kitchen late one night and
stole the recipe for the stew with the secret sauce.
Then, they built a huge pot. It was so big, that I dare say it
was as big as our tiny little earth, since their world was
much bigger than ours is now.
They
filled this pot with water, with tomato sauces, and carrots and
peas and many other things. They
chopped up tons of chicken and beef and spent months catching tons of
fish. They all worked, even the women and the children and
the children's pets worked day and night, all week long to fill this large
pot with all the ingredients, for they were anxious to finish as soon
as possible. The “philosophers”
worked out the secret sauce because the people trusted only them to be
smart enough to do it perfectly, and perfect this big pot of stew was.
Weeks
turned into months and months into years, and finally the day came--it
was finished. There was a
ceremony with music and speeches.
They danced around the big black pot, beating drums and hollering
out rituals, jumping into the air and kissing the ground, since this was
considered a grand occasion. Then,
starting with the “philosophers,” they all jumped into the huge pot of
stew. Some built rafts,
others had planned ahead a little and had built river boats to live in,
but most just floated on giant pumpkins or big pieces of meat because
that was the easiest thing to do. They ate and ate, day and night, week
after week. Months turned
into years and so on and so forth. There were no dishes to wash or
anything else so they all enjoyed themselves immensely.
They
lived happily for many years inside the huge pot of stew. Of course, there were some who did
not spend all their time in the pot.
They liked to climb out once in awhile because they felt there
was much more to life than just eating, but there weren’t many who thought
like that. After some time
had passed, the few who did like to climb out, soon noticed that the
stew was getting closer and closer to the bottom of the pot.
Most people however did not notice this, they had gradually
forgotten that they were even in a pot.
But for the few who did like to climb out, it was becoming harder
and harder to do so.
They tried to tell people of the danger, but everyone just laughed.
They wrote songs and stories about the bottom of the pot, but no
one believed them. They
said it was just a silly fairy tale.
The
few who did see the top getting farther and farther away, decided it best
to climb
out forever. They were forced
to build a human ladder to help others who also realized they
would be stuck at the bottom of the pot if they did not get
out soon. But again, these
people were few. The rest
just stayed and laughed at the sight of those few dangling
from each other on the inside of the pot wall.
They said, "Good, all the more for me!"
The people were so greedy that it was just too hard
for them to leave and see someone else eat all the stew that
they had worked so hard to make.
After many years, the worst did happen. They came to the bottom of
the pot. There was no more
stew, and all the stupid men were trapped at the bottom of
the big black ugly pot.
They cried for help, but no one heard them. They cried for the cook to feed
them, but he had left to do other things which pleased him more.
It was just too late.
This may sound like gossip, but I have it on good authority that some
days later a little boy, the son of a mighty giant, strolled through the
cook's little garden and saw a pot on a bench. The boy climbed onto the bench
to look into the pot, but it was much too big, so he brought some books
to stand on and looked inside. When he saw so many meatballs,
he said to himself, "Look at all those meatballs!
I'm so hungry, they will make good eating. I will for sure be full and grow
big and strong when I finish this meal." But the boy could not reach the
meatballs, so he tried to tip the huge pot over, but it was
too heavy. He found
a stick and forced it underneath the
pot and sat on the stick, hoping to tip it over, but the stick broke. He had no choice but
to suck the meatballs out with a straw.
One
by one, he sucked them out. Surprisingly,
none of the meatballs
tried to run away. He added some water, some freshly
squeezed tomatoes, peas, and carrots and many other things besides. Then with a little salt and pepper
he ate them all up. After
he was finished, he thought, “I must go find the wise old cook in the
morning and thank him for preparing those delicious meatballs. I 've never had such a good supper
as that. He must have worked
real hard!" After wiping
his mouth, the boy went home to wash his dishes. I’ve heard that the boy is
older and getting ready to leave home. It will be interesting to see if
he takes the pot with him.
About the Author
Troy
Morash comes from Canada but has lived and traveled all over the world.
He has lived in California, Romania and Russia (the Far East) and is now
living in Odessa, Ukraine where he teaches English. He has been collecting
and translating fairy tales for many years and has written over 150 himself.
He is currently working on a novel about the adventures of immigrating.
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