Feodor was walking through the forest, when he was suddenly overcome with a terrible thirst. He searched the woods for some source of water, looking for some creek, mountain stream or well…
Suddenly, Feodor happened upon a small butterfly sitting on a rock.
“Well look at that,” he exclaimed. “A refreshing mountain spring! Why, I’ve been looking all over for a drink of water. What a refreshing, beautiful sight!”
The butterfly, pleased at the attention she was receiving, smiled and looked up at Feodor. “I know, right? I mean, look at my wings, they’re, like, the most beautiful wings ever!”
Feodor agreed. “Your water truly is the most beautiful water ever—crystalline, clear, pure…how I long to refresh my thirst with a drink from these waters. I have searched this whole forest, looking for a mountain spring like you, and now I’ve finally found you!”
The butterfly glanced up, quivering her wings flirtatiously. “All the other butterflies are totally jealous of me. Like, look at all the awesome patterns on my wings and stuff. Don’t you just LOVE my colors?”
“I certainly do love your waters,” responded Feodor, “I’ve been longing to have a drink for quite some time now. The soft sheen of the mottled forest light on the surface of your water is sublime. The flora and fauna who gather at your banks to quench their thirst, who come to pay tribute to your purity and generosity, stand in chorus to worship your waters! And I now join them in singing your praises!”
“Oh my God, you’re right, my antennae are SO cute,” responded the butterfly. She smiled coquettishly, her eyes half closed.
“You are the most beautiful spring in the entire forest,” said the very thirsty Feodor.
“I know, I’m the most beautiful butterfly in the forest,” she responded.
And then the butterfly left the rock and fluttered away, to search for flattery and accolade elsewhere.
And Feodor stood there, perplexed, confused, wondering how on earth a mountain stream could just uproot itself and fly off into the air.