This is the story of an ancient Chinese magician turned bandit. He was greatly feared by the people. Those in power gave him not a thought because he stole from the poor. He was called the shadow Fu, or more often, simply the Fu. In a time of great famine ten of thousands of hungry peasants migrated from the east to the wealthier western kingdoms in search of work. They travelled the main trade route which was a single dirt road from east to west. The road was lined with trees. Now, the trees were so big, so close, and so old that their branches intertwined. That is where the Fu lived and plied his nefarious craft. When an unwary peasant happened along, the Fu would drop a magic turd on the traveler's head. One's first response at such an offense was to immediately knock the turd from the top of the head in disgust, but because of the magical nature of the object to which they objected, the peasant would immediately drop dead. The bandit then would rob the corpse of any valuable item such as shoes and clothing, or food, or water. Then the corpse was dragged into the bushes where the vermin had their way. On a quiet, sunny day, a young soldier traveled the road. He passed beneath the bandit and the bandit cut one loose. Now, the young soldier, while just as offended as any other traveler, had a different first response. He wheeled and began chucking stars up into the branches. The bandit fell from the trees and died there on the road before him. The young soldier turned and finished his journey. He found a thriving city in which there was work; he did well in his labors, raised a family and provided for all their needs. He lived a long and prosporous life, and he did all of that with a magical turd on his head. I guess the moral of the story is: if the Fu shits, wear it.
