The Bitter Mushroom

    There was a bitter old mushroom who sat on his rotten log all day complaining about the blandness of life. He wanted some excitement, but he never did anything about it. All the creatures that passed by ignored his complaining until one day when a porcupine brushed passed and stuck the mushroom on one of his quills.

    The bitter mushroom was ripped free from his log and taken away with the porcupine, screaming in horror as he was. He watched his log grow more distant and immediately missed it. He wasn't actually bored of life. He didn't actually want to go on an adventure. He just wanted to sit on his log as ramble on about the dullness of life.

    But whether he wanted to or not, he was now riding along a porcupine's quill and destined to go wherever the porcupine roamed. So, the bitter mushroom did what he did best. He complained.

    From that point on, during the entire trip, he complained about how bouncy the porcupine quill was, and or cold it was without proper shelter from the wind, and how hot it was without shelter from the sun. His complaining went on and on, and eventually the porcupine wouldn't tolerate it any longer.

    The porcupine found a nice old forest and brushed the mushroom against a rock. He slipped off the quill, bounced on the rock, then landed in a little crack stuffed with rotten debris. The bitter mushroom found himself immobile, sheltered from the wind, and sheltered from the sun. He was in a new spot from his old log. And once he realized all of this, he began to complain about how hard and cold the rocks were, and how poor the view was in the new spot.

    He rambled on and on, and the porcupine simply kept walking, glad to be rid of his brief companion. The bitter mushroom's complaining faded into the forest as the porcupine continued on his journey, and he made sure to never walk through that part of the forest ever again.