My mom used to tell me this story when I was digging myself a hole.
Once there was a man who was nothing but a head. He had troubles, of course, as he was merely a head with no body, rolling from place to place, having to use his teeth for everything. It was a strange and at times miserable life.
The head went to school, earned a degree, took up a trade. He was a hostage negotiator (he has many jobs in different versions of the story). He did well enough for himself, and he contributed in significant ways to society. He had a knack for listening to people’s problems and being able to sympathize in a way that was genuine and rang true.
But he always felt bad. He felt like he wasn’t good enough. It ate at him, as he went through his life feeling like everyone had it better than he did, that he’d never really had a chance to do the things he dreamed of doing.
So one day the Head is drinking in a bar, and this young man who had come back from the war tells him about his experiences. As he describes the horrors he’s seen, the Head cries, and the two enjoy more than a few drinks. After listening to the young soldier, the Head is finally ready to open up about his own regrets, to unburden himself. He feels he can finally share with someone.
“I hate being what I am. I wish I was anything else. I wish I was a grape.”
The head instantly turns into a grape, rolls off his stool onto the floor, and the young soldier stomps on him.
The bartender looks up and says, “Quit wining. I told you to stop while you were a head.”