display | more...

A pupil, in a rush to meet his master, stood at the edge of a manicured field.

His usual route ran straight across the field—would have to today, in such a hurry he was. Yet his virtue locked him before a little, white sign sticking out of the dirt—"KEEP OFF THE GRASS."

What was he to do? He could not dishonor his master with tardiness, just as he could not dishonor this groundskeeper by trespassing his order.

Fortunately, the master had taught his pupil prudence. Not a single blade of grass did the student's feet touch, so thorough was the flamethrower in its work.


The pupil arrived at the temple in the nick of time. His master was nowhere to be found. He sat and began his usual meditation.


Later, the master sauntered in—"Sorry I'm late..."—and sat beside his pupil. The pupil kept still and silent. Sensing curiosity, the master said, "...I had to take the long way around the field today."

(Or, instead, perhaps, he said, "...I forgot my flamethrower.")

(Or, maybe, "...some jackass torched my field.")

(Or, "...I was searching for the saint that weeded my lawn.")


Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.