Beside a river clear, a little lamb did pause one day to quench her thirst.
A lean and hungry wolf, espying her, let out a cry: “You dare befoul my waters? Such audacity won’t go unpunished!”
“Sir,” replied the lamb, “forgive me, but I don’t see how, from twenty feet downstream, I could disturb your drink.”
“You do,” the wolf averred; “what’s more, you slandered me a year ago.”
“I beg your pardon, but I wasn’t born a year ago!”
“You were,” the wolf maintained. “And if it wasn’t you, it was your brother.”
“I haven’t one!”
“You do. Or if you don’t, it surely was your cousin; or some dog or shepherd whom you know. You’re all the same: maligning, libeling, calumniating. I’m sick of it!”
With that, he grabbed the lamb, and carried her into the forest, where he ate her—as he’d meant to all along.
Weak reasons are sufficient for the strong.