aesop's fables - 2013 calendar

A E S O P ’ S F A B L E S

2013 CALENDAR

R E D E f i N i N g A E s o p

Aesop’s fables have survived since the fifth century B.C., and continue to impart their wisdom to those who sorely need it. Of the hundreds of fables attributed to him, many are not his own original material, possibly because of the storytelling tradition, through which many details are naturally altered or lost. Yet it is because of this tradition that the fables have survived: without it, neither Aesop nor his fables would exist today. And neither would this calendar.

In establishing this calendar, we decided to take a non-traditional approach to the fables, versus a straight retelling of the same stories that everyone already knows. Aesop, we figured, would never have thought to include zombies, internet slang, or cats named Mittens—but then, of course, Aesop never made it to the 21st century. Sure, a few details might have gotten altered or misplaced, but it wouldn’t be storytelling without a little fiction. So sit down, relax, and join us for a year’s worth of rollicking good storytelling—or, as we like to call it, makin’ Aesop roll in his grave.

And if you don’t like it, always remember that Aesop wrote it.

J A N U A R Y

SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY WEDNESDAY THURSDAY FRIDAY SATURDAY

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27 28 29 30 31

ThE goosE AND ThE goLDEN Eggs

“I need more golden eggs!” the greedy farmer shouted.

“I’m sorry, but I can only lay one egg at a time,” Goose said calmly.

Pacing back and forth, the farmer asked, “Are there multiple eggs inside you?”

“How should I know?”

“I think it’s time we found out.”

The farmer grabbed a knife, and, with one swoop, he killed the goose and opened her up. To his wonder, golden eggs began spilling from her.

“Hallelujah! Look at ‘em all!”

The farmer collected the eggs in a basket. As he ran home, he stumbled and fell, scattering the golden eggs throughout the pages of this calendar…

dON’T Be A kLUTz.

f e B R U A R Y


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THe CAT-MAIdeN

It was just another Tuesday, and Jupiter and Venus had been arguing for days.

“No one can change who they are, not really!” Venus yelled.

“Horse shit!” growled Jupiter. “You know what—”

Jupiter ran into his bedroom, grabbed his cat Mittens, and turned her into a beautiful maiden. “I’ll show you!”

He sent Mittens down to Allentown, and, in no time, she was a bride-to-be. Jupiter was so proud to have finally proven Venus wrong that he even arranged for an invitation to the wedding.

“Wasn’t it a beautiful ceremony?” he giggled. “I could just cry!”

“Oh, shove it,” Venus snarled.

“Oh, oh! Looks like it’s time for dessert!”

As the newlyweds cut their cake, a little gray mouse scurried across the floor and ran under the table. The Cat Maiden’s eyes darted after it, and her hair began to rise up. The mouse, the cake, and Jupiter’s gloat were history.

WOMeN NeVeR LOSe ARGUMeNTS.

M A R C h


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THe JAY ANd THe PeACOCk

A jay, venturing into a yard where peacocks used to walk, soon discovered that peacocks are messy creatures that shed a great deal. delighting in the beauty of the rejected feathers, he tied them all to his own tail and was soon mistaken for a fine-looking peahen at the peacocks’ watering hole, until the lustful peacocks remembered that peahens are actually rather plain. In a fit of peevish embarrassment, they pecked him until all his feathers fell out, but sent him home when they realized Wheel of Fortune was on. The jay had no better luck at home, where his brothers met him at the door, jeering, “You like to wear girls’ clothes.”

PeACOCk feATHeRS ARe JUST NOT WORTH IT.

A p R i L


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ThE Dog AND ThE shADow

“Oh look, a golden egg!” dog squealed with delight. “I’ll need to keep it safe. That other dog is always taking my stuff.”

every day dog crossed a bridge near his house, and every day he saw the same dog in the water. He was convinced this other mutt was stealing from him. every time he saw him, he had one of dog’s things in his mouth. enough was enough. It was time to get his stuff back.

When dog crossed the bridge, sure enough, the other dog was there, and what did he have in his mouth? A golden egg!

“No way!” forgetting that his own golden egg was in his mouth, dog snatched at the second egg, dropping his own in the water.

“Oh no, what have I done?” dog cried, jumping into the water to retrieve his lost egg.

He searched and searched, but never found the egg.

“That other mutt is so sneaky, stealing my egg right out from under my nose. I’ll get him next time.”

TWO GOLdeN eGGS ARe BeTTeR THAN ONe.

M A Y


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THe MAN, THe BOY ANd THe dONkeY

The bean farmer’s wife had run out of milk, and he, his son, and his donkey jumped at the chance to go to town and stay clear of her temper. Along the way, a man rode past them on a horse and snickered, “What’s an ass for if you’re not going to ride him, ass?”

The boy shrugged and climbed aboard the donkey, and they went on their way. Soon enough, a group of merchants rode past and snarled, “The nerve of that boy. His poor father must be exhausted.”

The boy shrugged, dismounted, and offered his father the donkey. After a few minutes, a wagon of women rolled past and cawed, “What a waste of space, that man. Making his poor boy walk while he rides that ridiculous donkey.”

“Christ,” swore the man, and pulled his son up onto the donkey with him. Not more than thirty seconds passed before a livestock auctioneer walked past and said, “It’s a shame you’re overloading that donkey that way.”

“That’s it,” said the man. He got off the donkey and asked his son to help him. It seemed that the only logical solution was to tie the donkey to a pole and carry him into town. So they did.

As they crossed the bridge to the market, the donkey’s foot came untied, and he tried to escape. The boy dropped his end of the pole, and the donkey went tumbling into the river. As they watched the bound donkey drown in the waters below, a priest approached the man and put a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t please everyone,” said the priest.

dONkeYS CAN’T SWIM.

J U N E


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ThE fRog AND ThE oX

“Holy crap,” said a little frog to a bigger one sitting by the side of a pool.“You would not believe what I just saw today. It was a monster as big as a mountain, with horns on its head and a really long tail, and hooves divided in two.”

“BS,” said the bigger frog; “that was only farmer White’s ox. I’m at least as big as that thing.”

“No you’re not,” said the little frog. “What part of mountain didn’t you understand?”

“Look, I’ll show you,” said the bigger frog, and he blew himself out. “Wasn’t it as big as this?”

“Of course not, I said mountain,” said the little frog. So the bigger frog, scowling at him, flipped him the bird and then blew himself even bigger.

“Like this?” he said.

“Bigger,” said the little frog. “And not quite so round. You look like a horrible green teakettle.” So the bigger frog blew himself out some more, stopping only when his ribs began to ache.

“I must surely be bigger than the ox by now, because I cannot expand anymore,” he said, and then he proved it by exploding.

fROGS ARe SMALLeR THAN OXeN.

J U L Y


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ThE ANT AND ThE gRAsshoppER

Grasshopper was enjoying a warm summer day, lounging on his lawn chair, listening to music. His friend Ant passed by carrying loads of seeds.

Sitting up, Grasshopper called, “Hey Any, what’re ya doing over there?”

“Stocking up for the winter. It’ll be here before you know it,” said Ant.

“forget that! It’s time to soak in the rays. Winter is months from now,” Grasshopper said. “Thinking about cold months will just bring me down.” Grasshopper lay back in his chair.

“Suit yourself,” Ant said, as he continued to load his food into a huge pile.

A few short months later, Grasshopper’s stomach was growling from hunger. Quickly realizing he had no food, Grasshopper snuck over to Ant’s large food pile and grabbed some seeds for himself.

“Why waste my time doing hard labor when I can just take Ant’s food? duh, best solution ever!”

LeT OTHeRS dO THe HARd WORk.

A U g U s T


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ThE fishER

Bored with his fishing pole and a little stoned, a fisherman stole his brother’s bagpipes and brought them to his favorite creek. He puffed note after note, and wondered why the fish wouldn’t come. “I’ll teach you,” muttered the fisher, and he tossed his net into the water. To his amazement, he caught dozens of fish.

The next day, the fisher decided he’d try his bagpipes again. He’d barely made it past the first note when all the fish popped out of the water and began to dance.

“You like it!” he exclaimed, “You really like it!”

fISH dON’T dANCe.

S e P T e M B e R


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ANDRoCLEs

A slave named Androcles once escaped from his master and fled to the forest, where he stumbled across a misplaced lion. Being stout of heart and slow of wit, he didn’t run, but went up instead to talk to the beast.

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“What do you mean?” said the lion.

“You’re an African lion. You don’t live in a forest.”

“Okay, look, bub, I know you’re driving at something but I’m not in the mood to figure out what it is,” said the lion. “I’ve got a thorn in my paw, if you don’t mind, and I’m not quite sure how it got there. I’m having an existential crisis. I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“Bloody emo lion,” said Androcles, and he dug the thorn out.

“You could’ve done that without the knife, but thanks, I guess,” said the lion. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

At that moment, however, they were kidnapped by zombies, who decided to fatten up the lion by feeding Androcles to him.

“Well, this is a fine how-d’you-do,” said Androcles, with several unprintable oaths, but luck was with him for once, as the lion decided to eat the zombies instead.

“I prefer my meat a little bit aged,” explained the lion. “You look like you’d still moo if I poked you with a fork.”

ANdROCLeS WAS A COW.

O C T O B e R


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ThE foX AND ThE CRow

“Hey Crow, whatcha got there?” fox called from below.

Perched in her usual tree, Crow held a large golden egg in her mouth. “Mm mmm,” was her reply.

“What was that? I didn’t catch it.”

“Mm mmm,” Crow tried again.

“I can’t understand you with that thing in your mouth. What now?” fox persisted.

dropping the egg from her mouth to the ground below, Crow cried, “An egg, fox, an egg! Sheesh!”

“And what a fine egg it is,” fox said slyly as he picked up the egg for himself. “Thanks, Crow.”

TALk WITH YOUR MOUTH fULL.

N O V e M B e R


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ThE woLf AND ThE CRANE

After a long game of hide and seek with the farmer’s hen, The Wolf finally decided to eat her. He plucked out each feather, peeled back her skin, and savored every muscle and tendon. When he got to the last drumstick, he sucked out the marrow and ate the bone whole.

except he couldn’t swallow. The bone was lodged in his throat.

Panicked, The Wolf ran into the woods in search of any animal at all who could help. “Please,” he begged, “it’s killing me.” But no one believed his story, and no one risked their neck.

except The Crane, that is.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” said The Wolf. And The Crane, wanting to befriend The Wolf, agreed. He stretched his elegant white neck into the jaws of The Wolf. He ignored the pooling saliva and carefully dislodged the bone, pulling it out with his noble beak.

“Here you go, sir.” The Crane offered the bone at The Wolf’s feet. “Glad I could help.”

But The Crane wouldn’t get his gift of friendship. The Wolf brushed past The Crane and grumbled, “don’t even think about asking for anything, you goof. Be thankful you weren’t dessert.”

CHeW eVeRY ONCe IN AWHILe.

d e C e M B e R


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ThE woLf iN shEEp’s CLoThiNg

A wolf found great difficulty in getting at a particular flock of sheep, owing to the vigilance of the shepherd and his dogs. But one day he came across a discarded sheepskin and disguised himself with it, figuring that nothing else had worked.

“Really?” said his mother, when he went to show her his new outfit. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“Hey, I’m hungry,” said the wolf.

“And apparently you like it,” yawned his mother. This spoiled the wolf’s temper, but it didn’t make the least bit of difference to his mother, and he stalked off in high dudgeon and went down to say hi to the sheep. None of them noticed him, and soon enough he was able to make off with one of the lambs, promising her riches and candy if she followed him into the woods.

“Wow, I really wasn’t expecting that to work,” he said reflectively, chewing on what had been one of her hind legs, “but all right.”

SHeeP ARe ReALLY STUPId.

A U T H O R B I O S

Carolyn Siu is a writer, an illustrator, an obsessive-compulsive grammar tyrant, and the victor of the 176th annual Hunger Games. When not writing silly bios on her iPhone or ruthlessly destroying teenagers in the jungle, she enjoys lengthy naps, Pokémon husbandry, and shouting bad advice at fictional characters.

Maggie Villegas is a mixed-media artist and producer from Hialeah, fL. She likes Cuban food and opening doors.

Meg Lehman is a crackerjack graphic designer. When not staring at a computer screen for hours on end, she enjoys reading trashy novels, painting, swimming, ironing, and playing seemingly useless games on her iPad.

aesop's fables - 2013 calendar

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