The Ogre
A ferocious ogre lived in a cave upon a hill that looked over a village. Every seven days it would emerge from its slimy grotto and fill its belly with someone to eat. Some men gathered on the sixth night with every intention of killing the ogre.
“Yes, we ought to destroy it,” one declared. “Perhaps we can set a trap,” another added.
“Or maybe we can block the cave’s entrance with stones,” another explained.
“I’ll take ten of our strongest men and have its head tomorrow morning,” boasted another. “Let’s drive it away with fire,” another replied.
They each devised their schemes, amicably explaining to each other the nuances of their plans, but they couldn’t decide amongst themselves which to follow.
“Perhaps we should draw lots,” suggested one.
“But then the best plan has an equal chance of being selected as the worst plan.”
“Yea, this is true,” the first replied. “Although I’m not quite ready to relinquish the idea.” “Perhaps we should vote on the best plan?” another suggested.
“Gentleman!” roared one. “I demand action! Let’s storm the cave with all our weapons!”
“We just don’t know how deep the cave is; if we aren’t careful we could die ourselves, and for nothing.” “Let’s select the wisest amongst ourselves to guide us,” one broke the silence.
“But one man can only have so much prescience,” another said.
“Yes, even so, I feel that he would choose his own plan even after examining the others.”
After much quarreling, they resolved that it would be most fair for each of them to allow the ogre to capture a villager every seventh day. In this way, each man was satisfied that no injustice was done against him.
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