Page 20 - Fables volume 1

How Paradise was Glimpsed by the Camel

“Not quite,” mumbled the punchy ruminant. “There must be
another possibility. What if I don’t participate, stay where I am, but
keep the heavenly scenario in mind whenever I get depressed?”
“Bah!” sneered the Old Camel. “Do you expect something for
nothing? There is no paradise for those who will not fight—only the
flames of hell.”
“Then I’ve made up my mind,” said Abdullah resolutely.
“You will become a soldier in the army of liberation?”
“No. I have seen paradise, but I will not gamble for it in this life. If
I do not go there when I die, then I shall organize all the demons in
hell and fight my way out of the inferno. There at least I’ll be certain
that things could not be worse and that they must indeed be better
elsewhere. You may think it a rascal’s wager, but that’s how I want to
play the odds.”
The Old Camel of the Mountain lowered his neck, twisted his head
sideways and squinted up at Abdullah. “Tell me something, you
worthless son of a humpless mother: did you drink any of the water in
that trough this afternoon?”
“Why, yes, I did. All of it. I was terribly thirsty.”
Haroun al-Jamal straightened up and sighed. Then he turned and
headed slowly for the gate. “All of it,” he muttered wearily. “That
much qat put him way beyond logic. Well, you can’t win them all.” He
pursed his lips and blew a loud raspberry.
“On your feet, girls! We still have to hit the caravanserai and the
stable at the tourist hotel before daybreak.”

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