The Health Insurance/Real Estate Agent and the Rhinoceros

This fable is borne of a time of fire and tempests galore. The crazy little religious guys were running around outside people's caves going on and on about coming disaster and some sort of "judgement day" and the majority of the other people grew increasingly annoyed with the lot of these wild-eyed prophets wearing nothing but a loincloth and an especially disgusting mixture of leftover food and plants which had just recently gotten a decent enough hold to establish some serious roots running around tugging on their tunic sleeves and screaming about some sort or another of depressing news. However, despite these encounters and a desire to do exactly the opposite of what these wild prophets were preaching because of the high annoyance levels, most people stayed inside, because they had ventured to the doorways of their caves and saw nothing but volcanic ash spewing all over the sky and landing gently on the ground (save the occasional shard of volcanic rock or two that may or may not impale some unsuspecting tree just to prove some point about how this was one volcano that was not going to be taken lightly) that would make really nice beach sand in a few thousand years and waddled back inside to invent the beach umbrella and sunscreen, which they surely would need once the huge cloud of volcanic debris cleared enough to let the sun peek through again. This all was a good thing, too, because the volcanoes that had been erupting for the better part of a year were spewing a drug that induced such hallucinations and delusions as tourists wearing brightly coloured floral print shirts and a completely differently coloured pair of floral shorts. It had also been scrawled on the rocks in the blood of the dying insane people that they could see visions of a little box which multitudes of little pictures flashed across in horribly unfunny sitcoms. This was the kind of atmosphere for this fable, a time in which Asop had wandered through this island, taking in the local culture, a bit dismayed with the lack of sunlight and propensity for volcanic rock to introduce itself a startlingly close distance into the sand upon which he happened to be walking, and yet a short way from his very person. Nonetheless, he persevered, and brought forth yet another fable, more than likely not inspired in the slightest by the landscape, beautiful people of the land, and luscious fruits. Instead, he wrote on a different culture he had never passed through nor had the chance encounter with, but read about some time or another while browsing a magazine or two.

Apparently, there was almost a bit of controversy concerning this fable too, as there is with all great works, I suppose. However, it turned out that the committee member was just joking about questioning whether or not health insurance/real estate agents are people or not. Unfortunately for the member, the committee wasn't in a joking mood that day and they had him drawn and quartered. But, this intrepid member shall forever be known as changing the nature of the IFC when he managed to squeak out, "Wow, you guys need to lighten up a lot. Ok, hey, gimme a sec here, ok, like that hopping new place, you know, the... owwww!" as the horses pulled him apart.
Once upon a time, there was a very beautiful bit of grasslands. There were a couple trees, but a good deal more grass than trees, so it was deemed a grassland. There was also some water, in the form of a stream and a lake, but whoever heard of a waterlands? That's just daft, so it was called a grasslands, and it was a beautiful one indeed.
So beautiful, in fact, that it was deemed necessary to import a few rather large and disagreeable rhinoceri to keep the tourist crowds from getting too complacent and too large. These rhinoceri roamed the lands until the tourists banded together and deemed it fun and sport to hunt the very beasts that tended to run down a dozen or so tourists a year, and began selling tickets to attempt such expeditions for £20 a head.

Needless to say, in the initial stages, while it seemed like brilliant idea, the business of sending once-tourists, now safari-members out into the grasslands armed with sharp bamboo poles and stones did not go over quite as well as it may have, especially since the first few expeditions came back bruised and battered from their own expedition members' weapons and the actual sighting of any rhinoceros was not reported at all, rather a bit of an ambiguous account of Michael, the "daft bastard with the rock," throwing a stone at the safari leader accidentally and Frank and Lola getting into a bit of a row over whose bamboo pole was sharper, which resulted in the unfortunate abandoning of Frank by the side of the small stream in the middle of the grasslands, and the whole group agreed that it was much safer to just head off and leave the grasslands to the rhinoceri and grab a drink at a pub they had spotted on the way in where no one would necessarily have to be abandoned unless it were to the dimly corner of the pub where they would be destined to suffer in endless silence while the merriment and barmaids scuttled across the more well-lit areas of the aforementioned pub replete with brimming drink trays, none of which directed towards the dark corners.

So the grasslands, abandoned quickly in favour of the more attractive pub culture, soon became the natural wonderlands that they once had been. To such a state they returned, that is, until one day a health insurance/real estate agent showed up. Fittingly named it was, too, as it now became an agent for reviving a story which could have meandered in innocent pastoral as a Thomas Grey poem, but now exploded with intrusion, a foreign element, and intrigue.

The lone remaining rhinoceros (as the other had gone off and joined the pub culture when it became a bit dismayed with the lack of stimulation it had been receiving from its counterpart) took an immediate interest in this new object in its hitherto (hithersince?) unchallenged domain, as previous to it's arrival the sole activity of the day consisted of running headlong into trees as hard as it could. The trees would then bend and often break in accordance with what they assumed average trees would do in a similar situation. The agent, wandering in a somewhat bemused manner through the waist-high grass, looked amusedly from the stunted treetops to the mountain range visible off in the distance and swung its briefcase jauntily as it sauntered across the grasslands.
As this creature was markedly different from the usual tourists the rhinoceros had occasion to meet, it deigned to rush right over and through what was now stopping to pick a stalk of grass.

"Halloo? You there. With the briefcase. Yes."

The agent, after a brief bout looking about for any other possible person with a briefcase to whom the rhinoceros could possibly be speaking, squared around on the rather weather-beaten looking creature and attempted to put on a brave face. It failed, but it was a valiant effort. Well, ok, maybe not valiant, but a nice enough try, anyway.

"Yes?" the odd creature replied.
"Do you happen to have any change for a twenty pound note? I'm in a bit of bind with this soda dispensing machine over here."

The agent patted its pockets thoughtfully for a second, with what looked like great effort. The lack of any jingle or similar clamour from the region of its pockets upon such treatment led it to believe in the absence of change from its person.

"No, terribly sorry, I haven't."
"Oh, that is a bind now, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, I suppose it would be."

With that, the agent began slowly walking back towards the normal land from which he had entered the grasslands. The rhinoceros, not wishing to give up a conversation without a little persistence, followed after. However, as a rhinoceros is not the most delicate creature, even a little persistence can seem quite overbearing, the agent was not a little frightened.

The agent, while keeping his poise for the first few steps, lost it, unfortunately not a bit through any fault of his own, thus destroying any sort of ideas of self-determination he had had, when he tripped over the prone form of Frank by the idyllic stream running through the grasslands.
The impact of the agent's foot wakened Frank, who had only been sleeping for the past few months or so due to loss of blood and the calming influence of the stream's babbling alongside him. The only time he had considered getting up was when the rainy season had caused the stream to run over his head for weeks at a time. Needless to say, upon waking, Frank was quite delighted to see a rhinoceros. He was also a bit concerned over the disappearance of his safari group, but the excitement of seeing a rhinoceros outweighed his concern.

The health insurance/real estate agent did not share quite the same enthusiasm for this large grey animal slowly approaching his small and very un-animal like frame on the ground with it's legs still resting on the back of a man who appeared to have lost a good deal of blood, apparently hadn't had a good shave in a while, and was now grinning in an entirely too happy manner at the beast above him.
To remedy his situation, the agent attempted to struggle to his feet, in the process of which he poked one foot rather awkwardly into Frank's left kidney and stuck his hand in a disagreeable pile of mud by the stream's edge, which, not amenable to having hands stuck rather intrusively into itself, became a slight degree more disagreeable and slipped out from underneath the agent's hand and deposited the offending hand and attached shoulder into the stream.
It was at this moment that Michael popped from behind one of the taller and wilder clumps of grass and hit the health insurance/real estate agent with a rock. This is almost certainly what caused the agent to slip into unconsciousness and the stream simultaneously and be washed out to sea after four days of bobbing in the water of the brook.
The rhinoceros, having lost interest in the agent once it was submerged, wandered off, not wishing to carry on any sort of relations with the strange creature lying by the stream with a particularly ridiculous grin on its face. Happily, later that day the rhino found a stalwart tree, which was not altogether pleased to have things bumped into it, and resisted quite effectively. It now could while away the time bashing into the tree and having the tree happily resisting.

The Moral: Grasslands should be left pristine, because once you start mucking around with the balance of nature you're bound to do something stupid like import rhinoceri or attempt to plant lollipop trees, which are horribly incompatible with the natural order of things, but if you don't go and do things like this then you might never have the opportunity to relish normalcy and covet peace and quiet and a whole slew of old sayings will just be left to waste, as no one gives advice on situations that don't exist.

Also, soda machines in the grasslands should never not accept large notes, as it's not often that one has the chance to get change for a 20 pound note, but it is often that one may need a drink in the grasslands.