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WRITTEN BY r\ARK A\UNGER
ILLUSTRATED (C PRINTED BY lfLIZABETH /\UNGER
Done Into & printed book by the Wolf in Sheep's
Clothing Press, in Iow& City, IA
fOR AI.L THE, OTORYTEtLLERS
As & child, Aesop's fables filled my mind. They were
tales that lived beyond the page, bested only by
accompanying illustrations of beloved animals. As
an adult, I returned to the fables. I expected to find
the vast world of animals that had occupied my
ima&qinaion. Instead, I found tales where life was
distilled to morals. This book is a response to my
reintroduction to Aesop's fables. It is an attempt
to find my way through the lifeless fables to the
colored warmth of childhood, to set right, in a way,
the imbalance between the ima&gination and reality.*
In short, it was with great pleasure that I was able
to reconnect with the stories and animals of my
childhood. Drwinlg them from my past and placing
them into the present, I was able to give them back
their nostalgic reign.
* Sometimes im&gin&tion outright thrashed reality. In the case
of the Lion f8 the Mouse, both my brother and I recall it being
& thorn that the mouse so brvely pulled from the p&w of the
lion instead of freeing him from the hunter's net.
CONTN T T
ILLUSTRATION ILT xl
THE Fox C- THE 5TORK 13
THE ION CT HE houseS E zl
THE HART THE HUNTER z9
I CAT TAIL8 AND LILY PADS PAGE 13
L FOX 18 TICKLED 15
3 DINNER AT STORK' 8 HOUSE 16
4 MAN IN THE MOON 19
5 ACACIA TREE zli
6 LEAP FROG Z3
7 MOUSE COMES TO THE RESCUE 14
8 MATCHBOX BED z.
9 A HUNTER'S ARROW Z9
10 THE HART BECOMES STUCK 31
11 OAK LEAVES 33
Fox ( THE bTORK
!I The fox's delight was
himself, alone. As f&r &s
he was concerned, &nd th&fs some
distance, nobody could equal his tarn or wit. Why
hadn't he befuddled the owl to his old owly bones?
That nightly professor, he could no longer s&y "boo,"
but just sit stumped on his perch hooting "who,
who?" And the bullfrog who used to click his he&ls
when he leaped? Because of the fox, he now lay like
& lump and wept.
The fox, delighted in his victories, rolled on his
b&ck in light of his trickery. He yucked &t the world
and winked &t the sun, the faintest flicker of his mind
&nd &ll would be undone. Everything hung before
The fox tried to sip the soap, bat the cuee w&s too narrow,
blocking his snoot.
the fox like bells to be rung. Echoes of past rings
reverberated in his mind and sang so in his toes that
he stretched them tinglingly toward the sky; there,
the shadow of the stork glided thinly 'cross his eye.
"Ahal" he cried. "That old stork looks hungry. I'llI
invite him to dine."
The stork, a punctilious and proper fellow Indeed,
arrived to dine in his punctilious and proper manner.
The fox, with & great bow, invited the stork in and
set him up at the table with & nice glass of wine.
"Fine," said the stork, "this is just fine," and the fox
flitted off to retrieve the main course. The stork's
good mood was not to be improved, for back came
the fox with a flat dish of food, "A flat dish!" cried
the stork, "I cannot, sir, eat from such a flat dish.
In case you didn't see, sir, I have no hands. If I eat
from a plate I get food in my eyes." "Oh!" lied the
fox. "The thought hadn't struck me." And his toes
began to tingle, he'd triumphed again. "Do forgive
me, and eat what you can; the pleasure is really in
having a friend."
The stork understood, he understood too well, but
he kept himself calm and acted without much reserve.
And at the end of the night he said, "thanks," and
"thanks, againn" Then, "Please, let's dine again. But,
let me treat, there's, as they say, room at my inn."
"What a congenial fool," thought the fox.
"I'll be there at 8."
THE pox COMES
He arrived &t 9.
The stork showed him in. "If you're comfy,
III bring oat the soup," said the stork. "I'm fine,"
smirked the fox, "I'm just &s fine &s c&n be," &nd he
looked out the window &t the moon. He winked, "I'll
Let you, soon." Back came the stork with two c&rfes
of soup. The fox tried to sip the soup, but the carafe
was too narrow, blocking his snoot. "I'm sorry," said
the fox, "but I c&n't seem to Let to the soup." The
stork, whose beak passed beautifully to the soup,
took one more sip, then sald to the fox, "yes, I know,"
One bId tm deserves oter.
One b&d trn, deserves another.
&C THE /'OU6E,
Time on the veldt is one thinq:
the lion's ro&r. 11:30-ish, the lion
archis head back while breathing deep through
his nose, then forward:
H H H HAHAAHAHRRO
Zebras wish time w&s more precise,
of course, more predictable.
Through the afternoon, ,
time moves like a
na'coleptic toad, leaping
leaping, wait, leap, wait wait.
To m&rk 4:30, whenever r
th&t may be, the lion &mbles
to the savanna&h and rolls under"-
the acacia, that dyspeptic tree.
Then he plunges his head into
a hollow in the trunk:
H H H AR H AH ARAOAR
ARHRORAG HAG HAI
"Four thirty," said the mouse th&t lives in the
acacia, then he swept his hb&nd through his fur and
crawled out of bed. "Time is so loud, but it is
effective." And &s he padded to his kitchen to make
A thorn towered from the p&d as if it were pointing to the very
pa&ln It cased.
up an omelet, he heard a new time that was fall
of invective. "My goodness," said the mouse, "is It
Having Zone back to bed, the mouse couldn't sleep.
The day was so short, but he was fussy about his
schedule. He'd wait for 4:30 and begin anew.
But 4:30 just wouldn't come. It just wouldn't. On the
veldt the zebras, too, were confused: ll:30-ish did not
arrive, was not arriving.
Time was gone. Simply Lone. The mouse, never
hbavnlng been without time, didn't know what to do
or what could be done. He thought things through
and decided, carefully, to try to move. Just one little
paw. It moved! Then the other. It moved, too. So he
crawled carefully out of his bed and tree.
The lion, that howler of time, was flat on his belly.
One paw covered his eyes, the other stretched flat
before him. A thorn towered from the pad as If it
were pointing to the very pain it caused. "Please,"
said the lion, "just put me out of this misery."
The mouse twittered his nose,
walked to the thorn,
AAG HAH GG G H H HAH !
ll:30-Ish shuddered the land. The zebras moved on.
But the mouse didn't want to Lo back to his bed.
A8KS A [AVOR
"Coald you, if it's not too much trouble," said the
mouse, "m&ke it four thirty? I'm wide &w&ke."
So the lion did.
Little friends may prove gre&t friends.
THe HART H c THE HUNTER
rom the O&k c&me the H&rt,"
s&id the Hunter.
He stretched his bowstring from limb to limb.
The H&rt dipped toward & pond.
His reflection stopped him, the surface unbroken.
The Hunter studied the Hart's track.
Front hooves pressed deeper th&n re&r.
Behind, & tower of O&k crggled to the sky.
His antlers, in reflection, entangled nobly with the trees.
"We c&re more for beginnings thbn ends,"
Said the Hunter. He knocked his bow.
The H&rt fell from his reflection, limbs
~1' Ac *~A
His antlers, In reflection, entngled nobly with the trees.
Be&uty is not everything.
\/E REMEMBERED AESOP IN THE BEGINNING OP 2009
AND THEN PRINTED AND BOUND THE BOOK DURING THE
TIME WINTER WAS STARTING TO RECALL SPRING IN 2013.
IT IS LETTERPRESSED ON HAHMEMUE [IBLIO USING
PHOTOPOLYMER PLATES OF OLD EARTHY AND (REWEKERNE
/AI8TER TYPE. THE BOOK 18 HAND PRINTED BY THE \/OLF
IN (5HEEP'8 NOTHINGG PRESS USING THEIR TRUMTY, OLD
VANDERCOOK UNIVERSAL L ILLUSTRATIONS ARE REDUCTIVE
LINOLEUM CUTS AND PHOTOPOLYMER PLATES. LND SHEETS
ARE DESIGNED BY THE ARTIST AND PRINTED ON H ZAHNEMVHLE
INGRES. COVERS ARE HANDMADE CAVE PAPER. THE TIP-INS ARE
PRINTED ON CHAUNCERY PAPER, HANDMADE FROM THE CREW AT
THE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA CENTER FOR THE j)OOK. SPECIALL
THANKS TO ALL MY LADIES WHO HELPED GET OUR STORY
OUT THERE AND TO KAT TANDY FOR HELP WITH THE BINDING.
THS 18 NUMBER 32 oF 35.
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