One day, a scorpion looked around at the mountain where he lived and decided that he wanted a change. So he set out on a journey through the forests and hills. He climbed over rocks and under vines and kept going until he reached a river.
The river was wide and swift, and the scorpion stopped to reconsider the situation. He couldn’t see any way across. So he ran upriver and then checked downriver, all the while thinking that he might have to turn back.
Suddenly, he saw a frog sitting in the rushes by the bank of the stream on the other side of the river. He decided to ask the frog for help getting across the stream.
“Hello, Mr. Frog!” called the scorpion across the water, “Would you be so kind as to give me a ride on your back across the river?”
“Well now, Mr. Scorpion! How do I know that if I try to help you, you wont try to kill me?” asked the frog, hesitantly.
“Because,” the scorpion replied, “If I try to kill you, then I would die too, for you see I cannot swim!”
Now this seemed to make sense to the frog. But he asked. “What about when I get close to the bank? You could still try to kill me and get back to the shore!”
“This is true,” agreed the scorpion, “But then I wouldn’t be able to get to the other side of the river!”
“Alright then…how do I know you wont just wait till we get to the other side and THEN kill me?” said the frog.
“Ahh…,” crooned the scorpion, “Because you see, once you’ve taken me to the other side of this river, I will be so grateful for your help, that it would hardly be fair to reward you with death, now would it?!”
So the frog agreed to take the scorpion across the river. He swam over to the bank and settled himself near the mud to pick up his passenger. The scorpion crawled onto the frog’s back, his sharp claws prickling into the frog’s soft hide, and the frog slid into the river. The muddy water swirled around them, but the frog stayed near the surface so the scorpion would not drown. He kicked strongly through the first half of the stream, his flippers paddling wildly against the current.
Halfway across the river, the frog suddenly heard a loud yell, and both frog and scorpion turned to see a T-Rex standing in the river.
“Okay, Imma be honest witchu,” said the scorpion. “I was totally planning to sting you before we reached the other side, but I feel like now we have bigger problems.”
“You fool,” croaked the frog. “Had you stung me, we would have both died. Instead, it seems that we both may die.” They both watched in horror as the T-Rex approached.
“It’s in my nature,” whispered the scorpion.
“Shh!” hushed the frog. “We may yet have a way out of this.” The frog had remembered then that he was packing a flare gun. He slowly reached into his mouth and pulled out the flare gun.
“Steady,” whispered the scorpion.
The frog shot the flare past the T-Rex toward the bank where they had departed. The T-Rex shrieked, confused, and then lumbered towards the flare.
“Now’s our chance!” hissed the scorpion.
The frog quickly swam to the other side, and the scorpion climbed off.
“Wow, that was–” started the frog, when he suddenly felt a sharp sting in his foot. A deadening numbness began to creep into his limbs.
“You piece of shit,” said the frog, as the scorpion scurried off.