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At water's edge, down by the stream
a scorpio had a funny dream.
He saw, to his extreme surprise,
the image of a paradise
but first he had to find a way
to get there. He began to pray.
A rustling woke him and he spotted
a beaver, (many were allotted
to waterways as engineers;
they'd build big dams and sturdy weirs) .
'Good afternoon, my furry friend,
I wonder, would you briefly lend
your ear to a small proposition,
it's something of an expedition
and I would be your paying guest?
But let me now explain the rest.
You see, I need to hitch a ride
to safely reach the other side.
And I have seen you are quite skilled,
alone I'd probably get killed.
Two nuggets of the finest gold
shall be your payment, this be told.'
'But Stinger', said the clever beaver,
'I've always been a great believer
in tales that folks have handed down,
one sting and I would surely drown! '
'Now, think', replied the scorpio loudly,
'I'd ride upon your torso proudly
and would, to reach the other side
leave unmolested your thick hide.
You see, if I were of a mind
to sting you (likely from behind) .
I'd sink my ship and perish too!
There's logic in this and it's true.'
The beaver, who was fond of money
now nodded, 'while it still is sunny,
we ought to both be on our way.'
The beaver first received his pay,
then they were off for their non-stop
adventure. Scorpio was on top.
The ride was uneventful, really.
The beaver moved his muscles freely,
and soon they reached the halfway mark,
the sun had set, it would be dark.
Said Beaver 'it will soon be over,
I smell the forest and the clover,
hang on, it does not pay to linger! '
When suddenly....he felt the stinger.
The scorpio had, with great precision,
and utilising daylight vision
plunged his big prick into the beaver,
a traitor? Yes, and a deceiver.
The venom hit the vena cava
and burned its way, like molten lava,
toward the ventricles at last;
death hath no mercy, it was fast.
The beaver sank, so did the villain,
it was a rather senseless killin',
last words came from the beavers lip:
'You fool you really sank your ship! '
To which the scorpio calmly stated,
'mankind has always underrated
plain individuality,
it is our own identity.'
It is not know if Mister Beaver
who'd always been a great achiever,
did hear those words before he drowned.
But, if he did pick up the sound,
he would agree that scorpios sting,
it's just their nature, it's their thing.
To point one's finger at those traits
and mount long-winded, hot debates
shows indignation of the critic,
with words both hurtful and acidic.
One finds to one's eternal shame
much of our own to be the same.
Herbert Nehrlich
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