Yeah, I don’t know.

There was a bird.  It turns out it was a sparrow, let’s say.  It was a terribly grumpy sparrow, which, as you might imagine, made it a very bothersome creature.

It flew around the forest, day after day, looking for sugar and saying unkind things about the other animals in its passive-aggressive manner.  It was rude as well as grumpy, it seems.

One day, the sparrow landed next to an incredibly stupid frog.

“Helloooo,” said the frog.  “Are you a fox?”

“No,” replied the sparrow.  “I am not a fox, you incredibly stupid frog.  I am a bird, of which a fox is clearly not a type.”

“Oh,” said the frog with a thunderous ribbit, then hopped around in circles.

The sparrow fluttered its wings and chirped in irritation.  “Look – I realize that you are incredibly stupid, but do you know where I might find some sugar?”

The frog jostled and regarded the sparrow with a distant, wavering look reminiscent of the way a tree might gaze upon the sky – which is to say, stupidly.  “Is sugar the black things that fly around and I eat them?” burbled the stupid frog.

“Not,” spat the sparrow, “in the slightest.”  It was at that very moment – or perhaps the moment immediately thereafter – that the sparrow murdered the frog, which was, one must agree, a gross overreaction.  But the sparrow was quite grumpy, you might recall.

Thereafter, the sparrow flew around some more until it came upon a fox and alighted on a branch overhead.

“You – fox,” he called.  The fox looked up.  “Can you believe I was mistaken for you not long ago?”

The fox wrinkled her nose.  “No, I don’t believe that I can.  You’re a bird, of which a fox–”

“Is clearly not a type.  Precisely.”

The fox tilted her head.  “Say, sparrow, now that we are speaking, would you mind coming down closer so that we may chat more amicably?”

“Of course not,” huffed the sparrow.

“Whyever not?” asked the fox, licking her chops.

“Because you mean to eat me up.  I am grumpy, not stupid.  The frog – now, the frog was stupid.  Though I do believe I murdered him.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Only in that he was not made of sugar.”  The sparrow squawked and fluttered off, fed up with another tiresome day.

Bene scribete.