Once upon a time, in a sunny meadow, a tiny fly landed on a part of a big wagon. This wagon was being pulled by a strong, hard-working mule. The fly, feeling very important, looked down at the mule and started to speak.
"You're so slow!" it buzzed. "Can't you move any faster? If you don't, I'll bite you with my sharp little stinger."
The mule, feeling the tiny tickle of the fly landing on the wagon, just laughed. He knew that the fly was too small to cause him any real trouble.
"I don't care about your threats," the mule said, his voice filled with patience. "I only listen to the one who's in charge of this wagon. He tells me when to go faster with a gentle touch of his whip, or when to slow down with a pull on my reins. Your words don't bother me, little fly, because I know when to speed up and when to take my time."
With that, the mule continued on his steady pace, pulling the wagon through the sunny meadow. The fly, feeling a little less important, buzzed away, leaving the mule in peace.
Once upon a time, in a super sunny field that was so bright it looked like the sun itself was smiling down, a tiny fly landed on a really big wagon. Now, this wagon was being pulled by a mule who was strong like a superhero.
"Hey, Mr. Mule," the fly said, acting like the coolest bug ever. "You're going so slow! How about speeding up? You're slower than a sleepy snail!"
The mule, feeling a funny little tickle, started laughing. "Listen up, tiny buddy. Speeding up? Ha! The only speed I know comes from the yummy carrots I eat."
"Oh, you think this is funny?" the fly buzzed, flapping its little wings super fast. "How about I give you a little poke with my stinger?"
The mule laughed even more. "A comedian, huh? You're as scary as a stuffed teddy bear! My human tells me what to do. When he gives a little flick of this thing he holds, I know to speed up. And when he pulls back, I slow down. So, your words are like jokes to me."
"Oh, jokes, you say? Well, you're so slow, you could be the star in a snail movie!" the fly buzzed, trying to get some laughs.
The mule grinned, "Nice try, but I've got a job. I'll keep going my way, not like a running-around-crazy squirrel."
"Alright, you win," the fly said, looking a little sad. "Don't go winning any races now!"
And so, the mule kept on going, just like he always did, while the bright sun kept the whole field lit up like a stage. The fly buzzed away, knowing he wasn't going to be the star of this show, and the mule just kept walking along, happy and steady, in the sunny field.
Sunshine kissed the wagon's wheel,
Where a little fly did land with zeal.
A sturdy mule pulled the cart along,
But the fly thought something was terribly wrong.
"Hey there, Mule, you're such a snail!
Can't you trot or pick up a trail?
I'll sting you if you don't pick up the pace,"
Said the fly, with a smug look on its face.
The mule chuckled, his heart light and free,
"Your words," he said, "don't bother me.
I listen to the one who holds the rein,
He guides my path, come sunshine or rain.
He'll tap me lightly when it’s time to speed,
Or pull the reins when I should heed.
Little Fly, your buzz is all in vain,
For I know my pace through sun and rain."
So Mule marched on, steady as before,
Through the field and by the shore.
And Little Fly, with a buzz and a hum,
Learned a lesson, then off it did run.
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