Oil Can
Once upon a time there was a woodsman who chopped down trees in a forest with his axe. He gained no great wealth from this, but it was his livelihood and indeed what he felt he had been created to do. So- as if by compulsion- he set off, each day, to the wood; small axe in hand. His axe was infamously small, much more so than his fellow woodsmen, however it was also infamously precise and effective on trees. In fact this woodsman out preformed all other woodsmen combined each day in spite of the puny nature of his trusty axe. This feat made the other woodsmen very jealous and bitter toward their over-achieving colleague, and one day they decided to offer him a challenge that they knew would test his mettle. Far to the west there lay a thick and dark forrest that had been overgrown for as long as any of the woodsmen could remember and none of them dare venture off into into this remote place for fear of not coming back. Legends of the most dreadful and debauched creatures were rumored to go about their devilish business in this forrest. Tales of wanton cannibalism, sadistic torturing and perpetual blood orgies kept enough fear in every man woman and foolhardy child far from this most unholy of places. For they knew that should they enter, their soul would be crushed, their body slowly undone, their mind driven into fear crazed lunacy, and no other person would ever see them again. And so the woodsman, with nothing but an exceptionally small axe and a song in his heart ventured off to this forbidden forest. He did so gladly and with an expectation to inspire his fellow woodsmen to have the courage to face any challenge no matter how high the risk, for he believed that there was no horror so great with which his mind could not handle. The woodsman could now see where his path met the mouth of the forest and was swallowed into the foul blackness of the thick trees. The woodsman tried to imagine the sort of beast that would choose to live in such a dark and rotten place. The creatures his imagination came up with were not comforting and so the woodsman decided that he should try to think of something else, but this was not easy to do. Thoughts of turning around and giving up came up, but the woodsman convinced himself that he was just being foolish, there was nothing in this woods that he hadn't seen before, he assured himself. Besides, why should he go back? He thought. The other woodsmen hate him, the maidens want nothing to do with him or his small axe, and all his work goes unnoticed. In a way he felt like this challenge was not a trap set for him, but an escape from the dull drudgery of dealing with the irreverent and ignorant characters of his village. If no one back home wanted to appreciate his labor, perhaps something in this mysterious wood can find use for him, even if it is just for a quick meal. The edge of the forest was now at his feet and without a moment of hesitation the woodsman continued across the threshold and into the brittle underbrush that lurked within. He was never seen again, but some people think he was raped and eaten by an evil goat- of course those people didn't like him because of the whole axe thing, they probably made that up. The reality was -no doubt- much worse.
Moral of the story: If life is good, don't go fucking it up by venturing into dark forests
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