The Unclaimed Undermorals
Once upon a time a Satirical Moralist was mobbed by his unclaimed Undermorals. They trotted in on soft feet, mewing and meowing, demanding attention.
“To create a little flower is the work of ages” stared at him with huge adorable eyes; “Never be wrong at the bottom of your voice” raised a loud yowl; “Don’t believe your own B.S.” rubbed against his ankles; “Minds mate whenever they meet” licked his hand with a sandpaper tongue; “Better to serve, even in Hell, than to reign, even in Heaven” walked over him like furniture; and “The good that’s born of evil owes a debt” clawed his couch.
“Dear nuisances!” he said. “I’ve tried to find good stories for you, but I haven’t found the right tales, with the right myths! Besides, I want you for myself!” He waved a laser pointer: “It’s easier to fool people than to tell them they’ve been fooled” pounced to and fro at the red spot.
The Satirical Moralist gazed fondly at the Undermoral curled on his lap, purring loudly. “I’ve tried hard to get rid of you!” “The best memory does not equal the palest ink” looked up at him, narrowed its eyes, jabbed his thighs with its claws, and jumped away.
Moral: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.