Please scroll down to find a free selection of exactly 50 fables! But there are 207 fables in total, so if you want to read those as well please consider purchasing one (or both) of these ebooks.

The first one, Rhysop's Fables, features 150 fables and a few short stories too, all for only $2.99.

The second one, Rhysop's Return, is a sequel and features 57 fables, for only $0.99.


A walrus blew a slobbery kiss at a mermaid; she caught it and blew it at a passing ship; the ship kept it for a few hours and then blew it at a dolphin; the dolphin played with it until it got bored and then blew it at a jellyfish; the jellyfish thought it was a sarcastic gesture and didn’t really want it, so it blew it at a squid; the squid was learning to juggle and tossed it up high in its tentacles but failed to catch it.
         So the slobbery kiss was free at last! It drifted away.
         Shortly before sunset it spied another slobbery kiss on the horizon that was coming its way, so it cried out:
         “Isn’t it a dreadful fate to be a slobbery kiss?”
         “Why is that?” asked the stranger.
         “Because we get blown here, there and everywhere!”
         “Only if you are an old-fashioned slobbery kiss with sails to catch the breath of those who blow us. Look at me! I am a more modern slobbery kiss and I’m fitted with paddlewheels!”
         “That’s amazing! So you never get blown around?”
         “Nope. You should upgrade too…”
         “Are there no disadvantages?”
         “Um… Now you mention it… My deck does seem to be infested with minstrels who play the banjo all night!

¶ Be kind to slobbery kisses, they have feelings too.


A busty whore allowed men to satisfy themselves in her cleavage and she never expected payment in cash. What she wanted in return was a few old clothes and two or three broken chairs.

One client, who happened to be a Viking who liked playing croquet with a gnome, questioned this idiosyncrasy. “Why do you allow the use of your bosom in return for such junk?”

“Well,” replied the busty whore thoughtfully, “it's because I was told by my mother always to give tit for tat.”

¶ You can lead a whore to culture but you can't make her think. Feel free to try, though. Just leave me out of it.


“Didn't the colonial authorities never catch the rabbit, Uncle Remus?” asked the little boy the next evening.

“They come mighty nigh it, sho's you born — those darned colonial authorities. One day atter Brer Rabbit escaped again, those colonial authorities went ter wuk en got 'em some barbed wire and erected it from coast to coast of Orstralia in a contrapshun w'at they call a fence, en they wait nearby to see what Brer Rabbit think of it.

“En they didn't hatter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby here come Brer Rabbit pacin' through the desert — shuffly, wuffly, wuffly, shuffly — dez es sassy ez a dead wombat. Colonial authorities, they lay low. Brer Rabbit come staggerin' 'long twel he spy de fence, en den he fotch up on his behime legs like he wuz 'stonished. De barbed fence, it sot dar, it did, en colonial authorities, they lay low.

“'Mawnin'!' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“Fence ain't sayin' nuthin', en colonial authorities they lay low.

“'How duz yo' sym'tums seem ter segashuate' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“Colonial authorities wink their eyes slow, en lay low, en de fence, it ain't sayin' nuthin'.

“'How you come on, den? Is you deaf?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

“Fence stay still, en colonial authorities, they lay low.

“You er stuck up, dat's w'at you is,” says Brer Rabbit, sezee, “'en I'm gwine ter kyore you, dat's w'at I'm a gwine ter do,” sezee.

“But the colonial authorities no longer can resist makin' themselves known, so they sa'ntered fort', lookin' dez ez innercent ez wunner yo' mammy's mockin'-birds.

“'Of corse dat fence is stuck up,' sez de civil servant 'sponsible for preventin' miscegenation in dis region of Orstralia, 'it wouldn't be much of a fence otherwise, would it?' sezee.”

Here Uncle Remus paused, and lit his opium pipe.

“Did the colonial authorities arrest the rabbit and take him back to the orphanage so he could be trained to do domestic work in the houses of the white settlers?” asked the little boy to whom the story had been told.

“Did they do dat? My backside, they did! They aimed a shotgun at der rabbit's head en blew out 'is brains. Now I hear Miss Sally callin'. She be wantin' you to scrub en clean en do other dirty work or else she send you right back there. You better run 'long.”

¶ Rabbits breed like hot cakes.


A chef prepared a cauldron of green soup over a fire for his guests. He served it in deep bowls and most of the guests ate it with relish, but one fellow pulled a sour face. “Yuck!”

The chef was offended. “You don't like it?”

“What sort of green pea soup is this? From what pods did these peas come? They taste unmentionable!”

The chef raised an eyebrow. “Peas? I thought you wanted green pee soup. There has been a mistake…”

The man who had complained shuddered.

“How did you manage to get hold of green pee in sufficient quantities to fill your cauldron?” he enquired.

“I invited the patients of a local hospital to come round and take it in turns relieving themselves into the cooking pot,” said the chef. “Most of them suffered from hideous and bizarre venereal diseases, which explains the particular colour of the liquid.”

“It's true what they say,” said the unhappy feaster, as he laid down his spoon. “Too many cocks spoil the broth!”

¶ Waiter, waiter! There's an undone fly in my soup!