Once there was a guy. His name was Sir Frederick Johnson and he lived in New York and hunted for a living. He would usually hunt the unsuspecting, tame crows and pigeons of Central Park. Many a person told him to knock it off, but he did not heed many a person's warning. He kept on shooting the poor, defenseless birds.

One morning, while he was out on his five AM shooting frenzy and had cornered a pigeon and was just about to kill it, the pigeon spoke.

"I am the magical pigeon of truth and love and not to mention good fortune to my captor," the pigeon said. "If you do not kill me, you will prosper."

Fred pondered whether or not to trust this magical pigeon. If the pigeon was indeed magical, which he was because he could talk, then the pigeon would give Fred good fortune. Simple decision, then.

"If you are indeed magical," Fred grunted as the pigeon looked hopefully up at him, "Then I'm sure you'd make a fine meal." And with that, Fred shot the magical pigeon and ate him for dinner.

Moral:It takes more than a magical pigeon to change Fred's habits.