A long time ago in a land far away there was a horribly
evil count. He lived in a huge stone
castle, surrounded by huge stone walls, full of nothing but himself and his
possessions. You see, that was all he wanted in life--possessions--specifically
money. He was a
greedy count--he did everything he could do to get his hands on more and
more money.
Being a count he was supposed to be protecting the peasents, but all he did was tax them. He taxed them to the edge of poverty and then he taxed them even more. All he ever wanted was more and more money.
After a period of heavy taxation the peasents finally banded together and rebelled. They got their weapons and torches and pitchforks and headed for the castle to take back what was theirs. After finally breaking in through the gates they searched long and hard and found the count cowering in a closet.
They took the count to the courtyard and made him an offer: Tell them where all the money was or die. The count refused. They then told him that they would count to three before the cut his head off with a massive hatchet but that if he told them where it was he would be spared. He refused. They counted.
"One!"
"Two!"
"Thr--"
"--Wait, I'll--"
And before they heard him they cut off his head. They searched the castle high and low for days and days but never found the treasure.
The moral of the story is "don't hatchet your counts before they chicken."