The tortoise reached the finish line first with no one in sight. “What was the rabbit late for,” wondered Alice, a wrinkle of deep thought creased her emerald forehead as she craned her neck from within the shell. She’d plodded diligently along but had no recollection of passing him.
These parables were so predictable, even so, she smiled inwardly.
She couldn’t know that the rabbit had become lunch for a red-tailed hawk. Little was left but some tufts of fur in the meadow.
The hawk was late for a less well known parable of his own, involving a church mouse and three skunks. They would have to wait.