There was a man. And he had a moustache. And this moustache was a
sign. It was a sign that he must go and fight the bull.
He told his mother. He told his father that he would set out to follow
that destiny, but his mother, his father, they said, "Nonono!"
They said, "You will not fight the bull. It is dangerous. It is not
respectable. You will stay here at home and write actuarial software
as does your father, as did his father before him, and his father
before him. You will respect the legacy of our family and not fight
the bull."
The man said that he MUST go and fight the bull. That he was proud
of his family tradition of writing actuarial software, but that he
had to go. His father said to him, "If you walk through that door,
then you are no son of mine!"
And the man set forth, his heart so heavy.
The man set forth to fight the bull!
He went into the fighting ring.
The bull it charged, it snorted low.
His sword he readied, cape he twirled
Prepared to give the blow.
The bull it ran, the cape it swirled
He let it pass unscathed.
Then back once more a second pass
A closer call, the crowd all gasped
But groaned aloud for all the while
Violence did they crave.
The man so nimble jumped away
Out from the raging creature's path
And every blow they swore would fall
Just gored the air instead.
They booed him, jeered and mocked his skill
Although he was the best of those
Who came into the ring
To fight the bull!
For hours he taunted, teased and dodged
That bull grew madder all the while
Until at last exhausted,
it collapsed into a pile.
But just at that moment, in its collapse, the bull's horn grazed his
side.
It was that rivulet of blood the crowd had waited for. Now that they'd
seen red they saw the man for the genius he was! To go so long, for
hours, to be wounded, and yet to defeat the bull without so much as
touching it, this was a superhuman feat.
Indeed they ran into the ring, they carried him off on their shoulders.
They said, with his blood trickling down over their heads, "This man!
This man is the greatest man to ever fight the bull!"
And then they made to take the bull and chop it up with axes, swords
hatchets, cleavers and all manner of bladed implements, but before they
could dispatch it, he raised his hand. He said in saintly tones, "My
friends, I have fought the bull. You say yourselves I have fought him
better than any one has ever fought the bull before. Is he then not
mine by right and custom? Then I choose to take him, alive. Please
do not dismember my bull."
The crowd was struck dumb! Then some of them grumbled, then some of
them chered. And by and by the cheering won out, until they let the
bull run free while they carried the man back to the house of his mother
and father on their shoulders.
His parents forgot their harsh words and welcomed him with open arms,
for they had only been afraid that their boy would be killed if he
should try to fight the bull.
And then, flushed with success, the greatest man to fight the bull,
he retired.
He shaved his moustache, its destiny fulfilled.
And he followed his father in writing actuarial software, married
a nice girl, and lived happily ever after.
