It Could Always Be Worse (Campfire Story)

Once upon a time, in a little village, there lived a poor farmer in a one-room hut. With him lived his wife, his mother, and his six KIDS. The hut was so small that when one person turned around, everybody else had to turn around too.

The KIDS fought over everything. His wife and his mother argued over the soup. Somebody was always stepping on somebody's toe. At night the farmer lay awake, squashed between two snoring KIDS, and thought, 'Things could not possibly get any WORSE.'

One morning he couldn't take it anymore. He went to see the wise old rabbi of the village. 'Rabbi,' he said, 'my house is so small and so crowded and so noisy, I'm going out of my mind. What should I do?'

The rabbi stroked his long white beard and thought for a while. 'Tell me,' he said, 'do you have any CHICKENS?'

'Yes,' said the farmer. 'Three CHICKENS, in the yard.'

'Bring them into the house,' said the rabbi.

The farmer thought that was very strange advice. But the rabbi was wise, so he went home and brought in the CHICKENS. Now there was the farmer, his wife, his mother, the six KIDS, and three CHICKENS flapping over the table and laying eggs in the bed.

It was WORSE.

The next morning, the farmer ran back to the rabbi. 'Rabbi, it's terrible! The CHICKENS are everywhere!'

The rabbi stroked his beard. 'Do you have a GOAT?'

'Yes,' said the farmer slowly. 'One old GOAT.'

'Bring the GOAT into the house.'

So the farmer brought in the GOAT. The GOAT ate the curtains. The GOAT ate the tablecloth. The GOAT chased the CHICKENS, and the KIDS chased the GOAT.

It was even WORSE.

Back he went to the rabbi. 'Rabbi! The GOAT ate my shirt while I was wearing it!'

The rabbi stroked his beard. 'Do you have a COW?'

The farmer groaned. 'Rabbi, please, not the COW.'

'Bring the COW into the house.'

point to every group at once and let them all make their noise together

It was worse than ever. Much, much WORSE.

The farmer crawled back to the rabbi on his hands and knees. 'Rabbi, I beg you. Help me. It's the end of the world.'

The rabbi smiled. 'Go home,' he said, 'and take all the animals out of your house.'

So the farmer ran home. He carried out the CHICKENS. He dragged out the GOAT. He pushed and shoved and finally squeezed out the COW. He swept up the feathers, and closed the door, and looked around.

That night, the farmer lay in bed, between his two snoring KIDS, and listened. No clucking. No bleating. No mooing. Just his family, breathing softly in the dark. The little hut felt as big and as peaceful as a palace.

The next morning he went back to the rabbi with a big smile on his face. 'Rabbi, thank you! My house is so roomy, and so quiet, and so wonderful!'

The rabbi just stroked his beard and smiled. Because he knew what the farmer had just learned. No matter how bad things seem, it could always be WORSE.

Storyteller tips: give each animal to a different part of the crowd, and let everyone be the KIDS. The fun is in the noise piling up, so each time the farmer goes home, bring in all the groups that are already in the house. Then go quiet for the ending, so the peaceful hut feels as calm as it does to the farmer.

A traditional Yiddish folktale from Eastern Europe. It's a good one for a rainy campout when the tent feels crowded, or for a talk about being grateful for what you have.