The Snail and the Rosebush

Once upon a time, there was a luscious garden surrounded by a row of hazel trees that bore a rich crop of hazelnuts every autumn. Outside of the garden, there were vast fields and meadows where sheep and cattle grazed, large tin cowbells clanging and jangling around their necks.

Right in the center of the garden, there was a blooming rosebush, in delightful shades of pink and red. Just at the foot of the bush, you could often spot a small, surly snail named Louis. One important thing you should know: he pronounced his name the French way – Louis! - or in English pronunciation, Loo-ee!

Any time anybody came near or by he could be seen and heard showing off and boasting about how great he was. He was naturally rather snooty and spent every waking hour of every waking day doing nothing but loaf, laze and loll around while preening himself constantly.

“Just you wait,” he would tell the roses. “When my time comes, I’ll do so much more than just bloom a little like you, or make a few hazelnuts like the trees, or give a bit of milk like the cattle and the sheep.”

“I hope we’ll all be there to witness all the great and grand things you do,” the roses would reply wearily and stifle their yawns. “But when do you think that time will come, if you don’t mind us asking?”

“Don’t worry, dear dreary roses. I’m sure you’ll live to see it.” Louis would reply, smugly twitching his eyes left and right. “I’m just taking my time. Why are you so impatient, anyway? Why is everyone in such a hurry? It’s not as if you have anything better to do.” And he’d lower his eyes down, ignoring them.

This conversation…