Page 42 - Fables volume 1

How Ten Thousand Termites Escaped from Captivity

columns. The king stood next to his battered palace. Homer hovered
over him, ready to close off the vent if his hostage tried to escape
prematurely.
The last of his subjects disappeared through the rectangular grid.
The king turned to his captor. “Now I will reveal how we process the
mud to make it water-repellant.”
“Yes! Yes! I’m listening,” said Homer eagerly. He picked up his
notepad and started scribbling, holding the flashlight in his armpit.
Thus occupied, he did not observe the king furtively edging toward
the vent.
“What the termite masons actually do,” began the minuscule
monarch, “is carry the mud up to the top of the palace and put it in
place with their forelimbs.”
“Of course, that’s obvious,” said Homer, looking up briefly from
his drunken scrawls. “You don’t have hands to hold a hod or trowel.”
“Ah, but you missed the point,” said the king, creeping closer to the
wire mesh. “The mud is carried in their jaws. By the time it reaches its
destination it has been well-masticated.”
“You mean it’s saliva? That’s the secret ingredient?”
“Right.”
“But—but—you can’t expect people to chew on mud!”
“That,” replied the king, “is your problem.” He ducked through the
mesh an instant before Homer’s heavy hand came crashing down
painfully on the lever controlling the vent.

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