ONCE, THERE WAS a brilliant young man who became a surgeon — an occupation that seemed to fit well with his abilities, including the coordinated dexterity and precision of his hands.
His medical practice was a success, but he wished it was better. Seeking to become the world’s premier surgeon, he came up with an idea.
He would transplant some brain tissue into each of his fingers, making them “smart.” This way, his fingers could operate with more quickness and sensitivity, he reasoned.
The fingers soon showed a tendency to became quarrelsome with each other, however.
The middle finger, being largest, thought it was supposed to tell the other fingers what to do.
The pinky was deeply upset because of its small size and location on the flank.
Soon, the surgeons hands were at war with themselves. His dream of preeminence ended, along with his career, and then his life — he committed suicide by walking in front of a bus.
The End.
Moral: Don’t tempt fate.
Thwarticus 