Dr. Stingerroo and Fables

Audio Version / 1.3 MB / 7.5 minutes (Requires Flash / download here).
Printable Version (opens in new window).

Hello Lovers of Fables,

The other day I had just walked into my den when I found myself, once again, shrunk down to the size of a mouse. I have two dogs, Fezzik, a big Boxer/Rottweiler mix and Dobie a much smaller, black and brown dog that is very speedy. Dobie chases birds, flies and moths. She has never caught a bird but many a fly and moth have become a Dobie snack. She doesn't even put salt on them.

When Dobie saw me shrunk down to the size of a mouse she did not consider me as the man who feeds her, but as something to eat. She darted at me wildly and I dashed under the desk only to be greeted by Professor Higginbottom.

"It's not easy being a mouse is it?" he asked calmly. He did not seem to be bothered by Dobie.

"No," I said as Dobie tried to get us with her paws. When she started barking I decided I had better join the professor in the library. Dr. Jitmiggle greeted us.

"So what'll it be today, Mr. Draeger?" Dr. Jitmiggle said sitting behind his tuna can desk. He had a thin mouse face and a long nose. I could barely hear him above Dobie's barking. "She'll stop in a minute." We waited. Finally she stopped barking and I heard the click, click, click of her toenails across the wood floor and into the kitchen.

"I'd like to learn about Aesop and fables, because I'm reading Aesop's Fables."

"You are in luck," Dr. Jitmiggle said excitedly. "We have an Aesop expert in residence, Dr. Jules Stingerroo."

Professor Higginbottom was a plump and older mouse and he moved slowly through the library. It still amazes me that inside the walls of my house is a gigantic library with librarians and professors who are all animals and insects. As usual the professor led me through a maze of bookcases and stairs lighted by my missing Christmas lights until finally we arrived at the cereal box elevator. There was only one rat operating it.

"Take us to the ceiling of Emma's Hall," the Professor said. You probably remember that Emma's Hall is actually my attic. The elevator went into the attic and then all the way to the top of the attic. When it stopped we were about 100 feet, mouse feet that is, above the attic floor. "Now just stay in the elevator," Professor Higginbottom said. "I'll see if I can get Dr. Stingeroo's attention." The professor whistled several times. Nothing happened.

"Where is he?" I asked. The professor pointed to a wooden beam. "Do you see his home?"

"All I see is a big blob of mud stuck to that beam."

"That's it!" he said while his whiskers twitched.

Oh no, I thought. Then I said, "Is Dr. Stingeroo a wasp?"

"Of course."

"I hate wasps," I said. "One stung me, some years ago, in the middle of the night on my pinky and I fainted and my wife called 911 and the fire trucks came and people were running through my house in the middle of the night. It was horrible. Last time I came to the library it was cockroach, now it's a wasp. Don't you have any animals or insects I might like?"

As I spoke Dr. Stingeroo emerged from his mud home and flew over to us. I quickly moved behind Dr. Higginbottom using him as a shield. The wasp landed in the elevator. Wasps have always looked scary and mean to me. This one was no exception. When he stood on his hind legs he was almost as I tall as I am, but he was a lot thinner. He had a yellow upper body and a black bottom from which protruded a long, sharp stinger. His wings were a transparent black and, unlike Professor Higginbottom, he wore dark sunglasses, but these were very strange because there seemed to be a tiny round piece of glass for every one of his hundreds of eyes.

"He's a little afraid of you," the professor said to Dr. Stingeroo.

"No need to be," he said in a soft voice.

"I just want to know something about Aesop and Fables," I said still hiding behind Professor Higginbottom and keeping a close eye on that stinger.

"Ah, but of course," he said. "Aesop, if there really was such a person, was an ancient Greek."

"What's an ancient Greek?" I asked.

"Someone who lived in Greece a long time ago." Dr. Stingeroo walked as he talked and his stinger moved from side to side. "Aesop lived there about 2,600 years ago or about 600 B.C. He was a slave. His fables are the most famous fables in the world."

"That's a long time ago," I said.

"The earliest fables come from Egypt from about 1500 B.C. or 3,500 years ago."

"What exactly is a fable?" I asked hesitantly.

"A fable is a short short story that usually has animals in it that can talk like humans and, most important of all, the story has a moral."

"What's a moral?" I asked.

At this question Dr. Stingeroo spread his wings and grabbed his head with four of his six legs and begin to hop on the other two. "You are a teacher of literature and you don't know what a 'moral' is?"

"I will if you tell me," I said slowly.

He didn't speak for just a moment, then he stopped hopping and he lowered his legs from his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's always good to ask questions and I should be happy to answer them." This made me feel a lot better. "A moral," the wasp continued, "is a lesson for living. It teaches you a truth about life."

"You mean something like, Cheetahs are the fastest mammals on the earth?"

"No, no, no," he said. "That's a fact. A moral has to do with your behavior. Remember when your Mom and Dad told you not to do something?"

"Yes," I said.

"A moral tells you what to do or not to do. For example a moral might be: don't tell lies or save your money for a rainy day. The moral of a fable is often written down at the end."

"Our book is like that," I replied. "There's a short sentence at the end of every fable."

"That's the moral of the story," Dr. Stingeroo said. "I'm sorry, but that's all I have time for. I've got to give a lecture to a flock of crows in five minutes and it'll take me about that long to fly to the tree where we meet." With that Dr. Stingeroo flew up and out of the attic through one of the turbines on the top of my house.

The moral of this story is this:

Not every wasp wants to sting your pinky.

Regards,

Mr. Draeger

©2005-2008 Glen Draeger (all rights reserved)
Millstone Education: World Literature / http://www.millstoneeducation.com/worldLit