The white-bearded village chief and his bald-headed deputy stood at the edge of the village where nobody would overhear them. They had chosen the spot carefully because of Pegasus, the invisible flying horse.

Nobody had actually seen Pegasus, but everybody knew he existed. Village gossip claimed he floated above rooftops listening to conversations, recording secrets, and occasionally making sure those secrets found their way into the wrong ears.

The bald-headed deputy kept wiping his shining head with a handkerchief. "Chief," he said nervously, "the villagers are asking questions again. They are asking why you don't have advisors."

The chief looked surprised. "But I do have an advisor," he said. "Me!"

The deputy groaned. "That is exactly what worries them. They say a leader should listen to experts and educated people."

The chief looked deeply offended. "I am educated," he said. "I have a degree. I went to college. I went to school!"

"Which school?" asked the deputy.

"The village school," replied the chief triumphantly.

"But nobody remembers you," said the deputy. "Nobody has seen you!"

"I was a quiet boy," said the chief.

"Chief, they are also asking about your teachers."

"I have forgotten them. It was a long time ago."

The bald-headed deputy wiped his forehead again. "Chief, even the old school watchman says he never saw you near the school." The chief began pacing up and down. His beard shook. His chest rose and fell dramatically.

"What else are they asking?" he demanded. "They want classmates, teachers, report cards, photographs and memories. One fellow even asked whether there was anybody at all who could remember you from college or school."

The chief stopped pacing and stared into the distance. Then slowly a smile spread across his face. The deputy immediately felt hopeful. Whenever the chief smiled like that, some unusual strategy was about to emerge.

"I have the answer," said the chief.

"What is it?" asked the deputy eagerly.

"Whenever anybody asks about my education, tell them my school stood next to the temple."

The deputy blinked in confusion. "Why should I say that?" he asked. "What has the temple got to do with your classmates?"

The chief smiled. "Nothing."

"What has it got to do with your teachers?" asked the deputy.

"Nothing."

"What has it got to do with your degree certificate?"

The chief chuckled. "Nothing at all."

The deputy stared at him. "Then why mention it?"

The white-bearded chief threw back his head and laughed. His fifty-six-inch chest shook like a giant drum. He laughed so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks.

"My dear Bald Head," he finally managed to say, "as soon as you mention the word temple, nobody questions anything I say."

For a moment, the deputy stared at him. Then he began laughing too. And somewhere high above them, invisible in the clouds, Pegasus quietly recorded every word, flew down and gave it to me...