A Little House

Peter pulled himself up over the last craggy bit of cliff, and there he was: the wise man who lived atop the mountain.

Though exhausted and sunburned and severely dehydrated, Peter did not take a moment to rest. It all felt like a mirage, and he was afraid that if he closed his eyes for even a second, the man would disappear. So he dropped to his knees and said, “Oh, wise man of the mountain, I come to you with a need. I require advice for my career.”

“I am here to provide guidance, my son,” said the wise man. He sat upon a rock, his legs crossed, his deep brown eyes unblinking. “Tell me about your career.”

“That’s the thing,” said Peter. “I don’t have one yet. But I have a dream.”

“Tell me then your dream, my son,” said the wise man.

“I want to make pillows,” said Peter. “And I want to charge exorbitant amounts of money for them.”

“Ah, so you seek to produce high-quality pillows then,” said the wise man.

“No, great wise man,” said Peter. “I would like to charge lots and lots of money for what can only be described as the absolute shittiest pillows in the world. We’re talking total lumpy messes of the most basic stuffing sewn between cloth. Is that such an impossible dream?”

“No, my son,” said the wise man, “it is not so impossible at all. For there is a very simple way to achieve this. You shall call these shitty pillows… pet beds. And then, you shall charge whatever you want for them.”

“But what if the consumers catch on?” said Peter. “What if they realize how shitty the pillows are?”

“They will not, my son,” said the wise man. “For the consumers in this case? They are dogs and cats. They cannot use words to complain.”

“It’s brilliant,” Peter said. “But what if I eventually need to expand my catalogue of options? What shall I do then?”

“This too is simple, my son,” said the wise man. “You shall sew together some of your pillows into a little house thing. And you shall put it on Amazon and charge over one hundred dollars for each one.”

“Amazing,” Peter said. “Thank you, oh wise man, thank you!” And with that, he made to leave. Only, his foot caught on a rock, and he tripped forward, disappearing over the edge.

The wise man stood. He went to where Peter had just been and looked over the edge. Beneath was a deep chasm. His visitor was nowhere to be seen.

Awesome, thought the wise man. Now, I can get off this stupid mountain and do the pet beds thing myself!