From the heavens flew down the mighty Pegasus. On his back rode no manner of creature, as the last rider jumped off in fright and died. For now, it was a lone steed.
“Whew,” neighed the creature. “I need to lighten the weight on my legs! I need to sit down. The creature landed in a forest with a nature trail and a park bench.
“Perfect place to lighten the weight on my legs!” Winged horses have a tendency to repeat themselves, so enjoy that throughout our tale. The Pegasus sat on the bench and
The Pegasus used nails from its hooves to shoddily repair the bench.
“Perfect, if I do say so. But where will I lighten the weight on my legs now?”
A star-nosed mole waddled by and spoke to the bench.
“Eh, what’s this? You’re all broken up! Who did this?”
The Pegasus confessed its crime against woodwork.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to sit somewhere and lighten the weight on my legs.”
“I smelled something was broken about it. And I smelled you.”
The Pegasus admired the star-nose.
“You have a dazzling snout,” said the winged horse.
“DON’T TOUCH IT!” And the Pegasus lowered its hoof. “I may not be able to see well, but I can smell you coming at me like that,” he snapped his claw-fingers.
The Pegasus thought the star-nosed mole was kind of a jerk. “Hey, I’m sorry, but I’m just curious.”
“Look, don’t touch is my motto. And anyway, why’d you break the bench?”
“I was looking for a seat to lighten the weight on my legs.”
“A likely story, I’m sure. Wait here, weight-boy.”
After about a half-hour, the mole returned with nails, hammers, and industrial-strength glue.
“We’ll fix it together, okay?”
The Pegasus smiled, although the mole couldn’t tell or care.
It took two hours and forty-five minutes, but they fully repaired the bench.
“We did it!” cheered the cheerily cheerful Pegasus.
“Well, I did it mostly,” said the star-nosed mole, “but you weren’t half-bad. As a reward for a job well done, you can sit in my house to lighten the weight on your legs.”
When they finished burrowing into the ground, the star-nosed mole offered the Pegasus a seat.
“Ah, finally, I can lighten the weight on my legs!”
“Far as I can tell,” mused the mole, “All your weight is high above your legs. You should be lower to the ground.”
The Pegasus froze. “What are you talking about?”
“See, I’d like to make a switch. You can have my legs and I’ll take on the burden of that weight on your legs.”
“Nope. No, I have to… go.”
“Look, how often do you get to meet a mole with a body-swap potion? I can make you–”
“NO!” The winged horse began to kick and flail wildly and accidentally hit the mole in the skull, killing him.
“I… took a life. I killed this overbearing mole. I don’t deserve to be a winged horse.”
He took a swig of the potion and poured the rest down the star-nosed mole’s throat. After a few minutes of blurriness, the horse passed out and woke up as…
A Pegasus. Was this even a body-swap potion?
He examined his body. Nothing had changed but… His rump. It had become furry and brown, like…
The mole had a glorious white rear and tail. The Pegasus slapped himself in the face.
“The dead fool! This is a booty-swap potion! Well, I did kill him. It’s my cross to bear now.”
With a smaller rear-end, the Pegasus could sit on the benches without trouble. And the star-nosed mole woke up ten thousand years later and was the envy of every new cross-breed in the future.
The moral is, of course, to always check the label and not to kill moles, although doing both of those things benefited both parties, so who knows? The moral is morals aren’t to be trusted at face value.