The Tale of Uncle Misfortune and His Dog Poverty
Once upon a time, at the crossroads of two roads, there lived a poor blacksmith. Day after day, he barely scraped by on the few coins he earned shoeing horses, mules, and donkeys for passing travelers. He was so poor that people even called him "Uncle Misfortune." The dog that shared all his hardships was named "Misery." As is fitting for all the unfortunate, they lived in harmony and appeared everywhere together: either Misery ran after Misfortune, or Uncle Misfortune followed Misery.They lived like this until one day at dawn, there was a knock at their door. It was the Lord God and Saint Peter. Misery barked, Uncle Misfortune woke up, grumbling, and opened the door to the early travelers. Saint Peter said:
"Uncle Misfortune, here stands my master. He wishes for you to shoe his donkey. Will it take long?"
"You’ve come early, sirs, but that’s no trouble. Though you look poor, you seem like honest folk, and I’m happy to serve you. I’ll be quick."
Uncle Misfortune stoked the fire, added some coal, and within half an hour, he had shod the donkey.
"There you go, sirs. It’s done."
"Good," said the Lord God. "How much do we owe you?"
"Don’t take offense, but as I said, you seem like poor folk. I won’t charge you anything."
"Nothing? That’s too little."
"No, no, I’ll only accept your blessing."
"In that case, I’ll reward you differently. I am the Lord God, and my servant is Saint Peter. I will grant you three wishes. Tell me what you desire."
Uncle Misfortune scratched his head, then behind his ear, pondering what to ask of the Lord.
"Ask for a place in heaven," whispered Saint Peter.
"Wait... wait... Here’s what I want: I wish that whoever sits in this chair cannot rise from it without my permission."
"That’s an easy request. Granted. What is your second wish?"
"Ask for a place in heaven," Saint Peter whispered again. Uncle Misfortune scratched his head and behind his ear once more.
"My second wish is this: I want whoever climbs this tree to be unable to come down without my permission."
"Also easy to grant. Agreed. What is your final wish?"
"Don’t forget about heaven, you fool!" exclaimed the gatekeeper of heaven.
But the blacksmith, ignoring him, continued:
"And here’s my final wish: I want whatever goes into this purse to be unable to come out without my permission."
"You ask for so little to be happy. I grant all your wishes. Use my gifts wisely, and farewell."
"Goodbye, goodbye, Lord God."
"You’ll regret this, you miserable fool," muttered Saint Peter.
The Lord God mounted the donkey, Saint Peter took the reins, and they rode away.
From that day on, travelers seemed to avoid the crossroads deliberately, and soon Uncle Misfortune realized that he and his dog Misery, who was now skin and bones, were on the brink of starvation.
The devil caught wind of this, and one day he knocked on the blacksmith’s door.
"Uncle Misfortune, I know you haven’t eaten in three days, and a purse of money would come in handy. I can offer you ten thousand écus, but on one condition."
"That I give you my soul in return?"
"Exactly. In ten years, you must give me your soul if you cannot repay me by then."
"Very well. Where’s the money?"
"That’s the tricky part! Open the purse and see."
The devil immediately shrank. The blacksmith grabbed him and stuffed him into the purse.
"See," said the devil, "how small I can become if I wish."
"Very good. But can you get out of my purse?"
The devil tried but couldn’t. Then he realized he had fallen into the blacksmith’s trap once again.
"Now, Mr. Devil, hold on. I’ll teach you a lesson."
The blacksmith placed the purse on the anvil, and the hammer blows rained down like hail on the poor devil, who screamed and howled like a madman.
"Have mercy, have mercy! I’ll never come back! I swear it! My bones are all broken. Let me go, let me go!"
Exhausted from beating him, Uncle Misfortune allowed the devil to crawl out of the purse, and he never saw him again for the rest of his life.
He died a very old man. On the same day, his dog also died, and so Misfortune and Misery, one after the other, trudged along the road that led to heaven.
They reached a beautiful palace. Uncle Misfortune realized it was heaven and knocked.
"Who’s there?" a voice called from inside. The door opened slightly, and Saint Peter’s head poked out.
"Ah, it’s you, Misfortune? Move along. You didn’t want to ask for heaven when I advised you, so much the worse for you."
No matter how much Uncle Misfortune begged and pleaded, the door slammed shut.
"Come on, Misery, maybe we’ll have better luck at that big brick house we saw from here."
Misery ran ahead, and Uncle Misfortune followed.
They reached the door of purgatory. Knock, knock, knock. An angel opened the door.
"Who are you?"
"I’m Uncle Misfortune, and I’d like to find a place here."
"Have you been to heaven already?"
"I just came from there, but Saint Peter wouldn’t let me in."
"Wait a moment. I’ll check if your name is in my big book."
The angel flipped through the pages but found nothing.
"Poor Uncle Misfortune, you’ll have to ask for a place in hell. Take the first left down this road."
The door slammed shut, and Uncle Misfortune trudged gloomily toward the gates of hell.
The devil himself opened the door. Recognizing Uncle Misfortune, he shouted:
"Ah, it’s you again? Get out of here, quick! Who knows what tricks you’ll pull this time, and I’m not in the mood for them. Be gone!"
Banished from heaven, purgatory, and hell, Uncle Misfortune returned to earth, where he lives to this day.
Many have met Uncle Misfortune and his dog Misery, and many more will encounter them in the future.
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