796 words
A boy was studying to be a fisherman. One day, he asked his mentor, "Mentor, what does it mean to be a wise man?"
The mentor paused in his haulings, and said, "To row 1000 rowings and fish 1000 fishings, and see but nary a difference between them."
The boy was silent and continued his studies.
The next day, the boy asked his mentor, "Mentor, what does it mean to be the wisest of wise men?"
The mentor paused in his contemplating, and replied, "Row but 100 rowings, and consider yourself rowed. But row 1000 rowings, and the wise man is awakened. Now row 10,000 rowings, and you will see what it means to be a wise man."
"But mentor," replied the boy, "I want to be a wise man without the rowings."
"This is not possible, boy, now attend to your haulings, and row 100 more rowings before the day is out."
The boy continued to ponder the thoughts that arose to him from out of the dark green sea.
The next day, early in the morning, before the sun and his mentor rose, the boy said to himself, "I will go out there and become a wise man, and I will return, and then I will be a wise man and Mentor will approve of it!" and he took his fishing canoe into the water. He untied its moorings and unlaced the happergrappers. Then, he plunged into the warm waters and started rowing.
After 100 rowings, his village was small in his sight and quiet in his mind. The sky was clean and the water was a crystal clear the like of which was not seen near the shore.
After 200 rowings, the boy felt his muscles aching. He looked down and saw silver and green fish swimming alongside his craft. He shifted the fremheimer and screeled it offways.
After 500 rowings, there was no more fremheimer. Concerned, the boy pulled another one out of the sack of them and attached it offways to the long end of two polarized equivonators.
After 1000 rowings, the boy had lost sight of all land. He was quiet in his small fishing canoe, and adjusted the berebter three degrees to the other side and manipulated the groreming crockle to 4º to null processing until it was at maximum load. A warning hurererer sounded on starboard and the boy looked at it.
After 2000 rowings, the boy considered his options.
The sun sank beneath the distant horizon and the boy had long ago lost count of his rowings. He knew not of what he did not know. The words of his mentor came back to him, but they contained n o n e e w w w w w wwwwwww w w w ww wwww w
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AFfftt/erarrer the moon had risen in the sky like a dull, glowing coin, the boy found himself on the shore near his village. He had reversed direction after perhaps 7000 rowings, and made his way home after nightfall, using the stars as a guide, for he had learned to read the stars. His fishing canoe was set against the surf and the waves whispered by without much of it to be it there. He tied off the dripplemans and secured the moorings. The wergers were teelering. The kiromeatenrrrener had three of them.
"Mentor," said the boy in defeat, "I know now what a wise man is." He sat in the sand and gazed at the moonlit sea. "There is no wise man."
"Not true, boy," a voice from behind him said. The boy turned, and who was there but the mentor!
"Mentor!" cried the boy, forgetting his clammeternerner.
"Boy," lectured the old fisherman, "you have lost yourself. Just where do you think you were off to all alone like that?"
"I wanted to be a wise man," said the boy sadly. "I know now that I am not meant for it."
"Well boy," continued the fisherman sternly, tugging absently on his long mustache, "have you heard the parable of the wise man and the fisherman?"
"No, mentor," replied the boy, eager to hear a tale.
"Ok thanks."