Once upon a time, on a dog

There was this lady type dog, oh, medium sized or so, and she lived out in the wilds by herself, minding her own business and just getting along.
There happened to be a few fleas that found their way onto her one day, and as fleas will, they started to multiply.
Soon the poor dog was covered in thousands and thousands of fleas. She tried everything to get them off, even laying in a river, but the fleas just climbed on her head, and she found that they could even hold their breathe longer than she could.
With all the fleas living off her, she became sicker and sicker.
One day she happened to brush up against a bush. No, not that Bush, this one grew in the ground, and a large tick, with his wife and two daughters, grabbed hold of some of the few remaining hairs on this poor animal, and jumped aboard.

Now ticks, being parasites who are much larger than fleas, and thinking very highly of themselves, immediately started kicking any flea that got in their way off the dog.

One day the tick stepped up on the head of the dog and proclaimed, "I want all you fleas to gather as many hairs as are left and build me a house. Make that only the white hairs, because it want it to be a white house."

The fleas built a beuatiful house out of white doggie hair, and the First Tick Family moved in.

Mrs. Tick wanted to decorate the house in the style of the brightly colored but mismatched dresses she generally wore, and Mr. Tick had a throne installed in an oval shaped office where he could preside over his serfs...er...peasants....uh...flea following.

The fleas, not used to being under control on their own property, confronted the Tick-in-chief. But the tick had anticipated this response, and had gathered an army of all the the largest fleas, which he paid to protect him and his family, and forced the other little fleas to provide him, his family, and his militarized Fraternal Order of Tick Enforcement with sustenance from the poor dog.

A lot of the fleas had to go hungry to ensure the tick and the rest had plenty, and could afford vacations at Doggy's Earflap, and "Diplomatic Tours" to exotic foreign animals, like African dogs.



Now, fleas, being the stubborn little bastards they are, and as everyone knows, hard to get rid of without too many drone strikes to go unnoticed, put up with the tick's shit for as long as they were left to their own lives.

But when the Tick-in-chief started a Great Plan of Oppression, in which all the fleas would be required to not only give them a percentage of the dog's blood they worked for, but would also be forced to follow laws from other ticks on bigger dogs who had formed a Union, or be forced to go and fight fleas on other smaller dogs, just to show how Great and Powerful the Grand Tick of Their Dog was, some of the fleas had had ENOUGH!

These fleas met secretly with other fleas, and these fleas in turn met with still more fleas, and pretty soon, all the fleas with the exception of the Demonicratic Party, which had their own issues of an intellectual nature, realized that they could take back their dog, if they just joined together.

Soon there were fleas coaxing more hairs to grow on the poor dog, so they would have secret places to meet. They provided for less fortunate fleas by harvesting their own patch of dog-land, and giving it to the poorer fleas who had lost all they owned due to the dogonomics of the Tick Regime. They found better ways to harvest their crop, and would work the dog on one side or the other, so she would turn in the direction that other fleas on other dogs had told them food that would nurish her could be found.

Then one day, the Tick-in-chief decided that because the fleas were finding better ways to take care of their needs and not need his "guidance" any longer, he passed a law called the ACA, or Animal Control Act, that said all fleas must ONLY bite the dog where HE said, and HE personally would guide the animal to GREAT HEALTH!

Now the fleas were getting on quite nicely on their own, with their own little flea lives, and this proved to be the final hair on the dog's back, so to speak.

A great rebellion occured, and the fleas revolted. (And we all know how revolting fleas can be!) and the flea army realized that there was no way they could handle all the united fleas, and deserted the Tick. The whitehouse was over run, and the Tick family placed in cells fashioned for them under the tail of the dog, where every time she wagged, which she did more often now that the tick was gone, they would be inundated by the foul smells wafting from just below them.

The moral of this story? Fleas are small, but they are many. Keep fucking with them...