Page 36 - Fables volume 3

The Interrogator

“Next!”
The long line snaking into the desert advanced one pace toward
the Sphinx. The monster eyed its victim and licked its chops: this one
must have been prosperous, given the ratio of flesh to bone. It was a
man.
“We’re going to play a little game,” boomed its angelic voice, as it
flexed its wings, unsheathed its claws and shifted its haunches. “I
have a very simple question for you to answer.”
This is a piece of cake, thought the man. He had heard the answer
given by the previous four examinees, all loud screeching or
bellowing animals. They had been allowed to proceed unmolested in
their journey. So they knew what to say.
“I’m ready,” he said cheerfully.
“Then listen carefully,” rumbled the Sphinx. “Are you a creature
that desecrates its dwelling?”
“No.”
“Wrong!” The monster grabbed the man and popped him into the
yawning abyss of its gullet. “Next!”
A small bird stepped forward: a swiftlet. The Sphinx used
toothpicks larger than this miserable specimen. But all were required
to take the test.
“We can get this over with quickly, feathered dab of pâté. Are you
a creature that desecrates its dwelling?”
“No.”
“Wrong! Copied the others, didn’t you, you little pea-brain? Here,
hop on my tongue.”
The swiftlet did not budge. “You are wrong, O Sphinx. Perhaps
you have a typo in your cheat-sheet. It is man who shits in his nest; I
spit in mine, making an edible delicacy for him to steal and eat.”
“No, no, no!” cried the Sphinx. “I am never wrong. I know all the
answers!” And convinced of its rightness, it jumped up and ran off to
drown in denial.

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