During a recent therapy session I was given a writing assignment, a 'personal myth'. It was half fill-in-the-blank, half freeform. This is not that exercise but a polished version.

The Fox and the Sphinx:

An Ironically Self-Aware Fable

Once upon a time there was a fox who was, of course, named Rénard. He lived in the fabled woods with style and panache.

More than anything he wanted knowledge but his library card had expired. Thus he was forced to wander far in his daily hunt seeking sustenance for his body and mind.

One day while hunting he met a sphinx named Tisiphone.

“Hello, fox. I'm Tisiphone, a sphinx.”

“Well met, sphinx. I'm Rénard, a fox. May I call you Tizzy, lady sphinx?”

The sphinx gave the fox some side-eye.

“No, fox, you may not. Now let's us stop pussy-footing (that's funny because I have the body of a lion, y'see) and get this myth going.”

The fox gave the sphinx some side-eye.

“Your pardon, myth (that's a pun...myth, miss), this is not a myth but a fable.”

The sphinx looked about and sniffed the air.

“Spit. I've wandered into the wrong genre. Thanks, fox.”

The fox nodded agreeably.

“Happy to help, myth (that's still a pun).”

The sphinx spread her wings, sprang into the air, and flew off.

“Nice lady,” the fox said and went to Starbuck's for a venti mocha and a lemon bar.

As the fox said to the sphinx this is a fable and fables have morals, a pithy life lesson woven into the narrative. The moral of this fable is that one should keep one's library card up to date.

FIN