Once upon a time there was a weasel. One day Weasel is walking through the woods and saw Bear.
“Hey Weasel, c’mere!” says Bear.
“Yes?” asks Weasel.
“Do you ever have trouble with poop sticking to your fur?”
“No. Why?”
“No reason. Hurrrngkt!” Then Bear picks up Weasel and applies him, Weasel, to Bear’s “sensitive area”.
“You wouldn’t do that if I was big and strong!” cried Weasel.
“No,” agreed Bear, “but you’re not”
The next day Coyote found his friend Weasel.
“Whatcha doin’, Weasel?”
“I’ve got these two big rocks tied to either end of this stout stick. I’m going to pick it up over and over again until my muscles get big. Then I’ll get bigger rocks and do it some more.”
“Why’s that?”
“To get a strong as Bear.”
“Ya think it’ll work?”
“The theory’s sound.”
“OK.”
And Weasel picked up his stout stick with the rocks tied on. He got them nearly over his head when one rock snapped the braided grass that held it on. This slammed into Weasel’s foot, nearly crushing it. The other rock unbalanced the stout stick and Weasel lost his grip on it. This rock crashed into Weasel’s other foot, nearly crushing it. Luckily Coyote was there. Coyote knew a lot about first aid. It’s just something coyotes know.
A few days later Weasel was hobbling through the forest when he saw grapes growing all tangled in the branches of a tall tree.
“I sure would like some grapes,” Weasel said.
“Yeah, you probably would,” agreed Squirrel.
Weasel jumped and jumped as high as he could. He didn’t come even close to getting any grapes. “Aw, they’re probably sour anyway,” said Weasel.
Then Squirrel scampered up the tree and out onto the branches and down the grape vine to the bunch of grapes. “Nope, these are some of the best grapes ever. Mmmm-mm! Are they good grapes!”
“Shut up,” said Weasel.
The next day Coyote found his friend Weasel.
“Whatcha doin’, Weasel?”
“I’ve got this flat log balanced over this round rock. Over there I have a pile of other rocks with the top rock tied to this braided grass. I’m going to pull that rock off the top of the pile and have it fall onto the far end of this log and that will catapult me up to the grapes so I can eat them just like Squirrel.”
“More rocks and grass?”
“The theory’s sound.”
“I’ll go get the iodine.” Coyote just had a feeling about this.
Weasel pulled the top rock off the pile and it fell on the far side of the log, just as he planned. It shot him into the air. Straight up into the air. When he came back down, his weight launched the rock back up, only this time it arced over and slammed right into Weasels head. It was a good thing Coyote had the iodine handy.
A bit after that Weasel was walking through the forest. He saw Mockingbird singing. All the lady mockingbirds were drawn to him. This gave Weasel an idea. One where he couldn’t get hurt too. No rocks and grass in this plan, no sirree.
The next day Coyote found his friend Weasel.
“Whatcha doin’, Weasel?”
“I’m going to sing a lovely song and all the chicks will dig me and I won’t want for feminine companionship.”
“You think this’ll work?”
“The theory’s sound.” Then Weasel started singing. The chicks were, to be kind, unimpressed. To be honest, they were all racing away as fast as their legs would carry them. All except for Grandmother Toad.
“Well, this isn’t what I had in mind, but your are a girl. Sorta.”
“No Weasel. I’m just going to ask you what you’re doing.”
“First I tried to be strong, like Bear. That didn’t work. Then I tried to be agile, like Squirrel. That didn’t work either. Then I tried to sing like Mockingbird. You know how that turned out.”
“Weasel, Weasel, Weasel, you have to be what you are. You have to do what only Weasel can.”
“Grandmother Toad, you are right.” With that, Weasel left the forest.
Three years later, he was Governor of the state.
Uncle Rue, story guy.
. Not that I’m complaining. To quote the Incredible Shrinking Man: “I still exist!”