Once upon a time . . .

. . . there was a house by the river. The owners had been fishermen as far back as they could trace their lineage. A distant relative had recently passed away, and the couple suddenly found themselves with a slew of antiques. Amongst these was an enormous grandfather clock.


The clock was gorgeous -- hand-crafted from the finest hickory money could buy. They placed it on a carpet in view of the front door, so it could be shown off when guests were over.


Whenever nobody was home, a mouse could be seen scurrying about; it would flitz to and fro without a care. The family's pet cat soon caught wind of this, however, and made it a daily ritual to chase the poor mouse everywhere it went. The days went by, and the races continued.


One day, a slew of new objects was introduced to their battlefield; the mouse made full use of these, and immediately hopped up onto a new-found table as he approached it. He thought he was safe, but found the cat in close pursuit. As a last resort, the mouse lept onto the next object he saw -- the family's prized clock. As he raced up its side, the cat came whizzing over, and the whole lot toppled to the ground, destroying the beloved antique.


When the couple came home to this sight, they were dismayed. "How could such a thing have happened?" In time, though, sadness was forgotten, and the fisherman decided to put the wood to good use; he had been meaning to build a new dock for some time, and the pieces from the clock would make the perfect size planks for what he had in mind.


In a couple days, the project was complete and ready to be put to use. He pulled his boat alongside it, tied it up, and stepped off. Upon making contact with the poloshed wood, his foot slipped out from underneath him. He hit his head and died.


*The moral?*


Don't let a mouse run up the clock, or you'll have a slippery hickory dock.