Irony is the Spice

There was once an old man who worked on horses. He traveled through several adjoining kingdoms accepting the animals for treatment no matter the complaint. The old man never had received any formal training in the care of horses, and in fact had no particular fondness for animals in general. Yet he pursued this trade for many years, and through many, many clients. He had a particular touch for this pursuit that I will mention. He long ago decided how much money he wanted for his efforts, and calculated the maximum that he thought anyone would be willing and able to pay for his service, and that became his price.

Once he arrived in a village, and someone brought their horse for his treatment, he would take the animal into a barn for a private examination, wait an appropriate length of time, then come from the barn and inform the owner that he could indeed treat the horse, and that the full price would be 147 Dolkirks and 29 Zins.  No matter the apparent malady of the horse, no matter what treatment if any was called for, the price was always 147 Dolkirks and 29 Zins.  (No one had ever noticed this fiscal facet but Moi.) 

Well, one day the old man entered a village he had not visited for many years, and once his presence was known a simple farmer came forth with his horse, and asked the old man to check him over for a reoccurring problem he described. The old man listened intently, led the horse into a nearby barn, returned in a bit, and informed the farmer that he could certainly treat the animal properly, and that his bill for services in this particular case would be 147 Dolkirks and 29 Zins. The farmer nodded his agreement, but as the old man walked backed toward the barn, the farmer called out “Wait a minute. You were here twelve years ago and treated my horse for an entirely different problem, and now I remember distinctly that the bill then was also for 147 Dolkirks and 29 Zins.”  The farmer waited with accusation-stained breath, but the old man didn't miss a beat as he smiled and said, “Isn't it good to know that at least MY prices haven't gone up?”

There was once a small man who dreamed of designing the world's first and only “absolutely, positively, fool-proof, fail-safe, burglar alarm system.”  Well, he spent several years in private just poring over the problems and possible solutions. Then he spent several more years in his basement constructing then discarding models of his proposed, possible systems.  He lost his job for being absent, and his wife took the children and left him. But on the toilet, when a lesser man would have surrendered to defeat, he was sure that he and only he alone had solved the problem of the “fool proof, burglar alarm system.”  Early the next morning the bank foreclosed on his unpaid mortgage and he was thrown into the empty streets, homeless.  But what the hell; irony is the spice of life.

There was once a young boy who made friends with an overcoat...(There's no further story to tell; I just thought it was interesting enough to mention.)

J.