An owl was out hunting for food one evening when a scholar happened upon him. He caught the owl and brought the bird back with him to his home to study the owl's anatomy.
Days passed and the owl found himself bored. The scholar, too, was bored. An idea struck the scholar and began teaching the owl how to read, speak, and type with it's beak. The owl, with nothing to do, decided to learn anyway.
He was unable to speak and disliked going near the typewriter. Despite that, the owl found it a joy to read. He read a great many books the scholar had, one of which happened to be about picking locks. The owl waited until dark, when the scholar was in bed. To his dismay, the owl could not pick the lock of his cage.
Morning came, and the owl was depressed. Early in their unusual relationship, the scholar had told the owl that anyone can do anything if they knew how to read. Now that the owl thought, it was a foolish saying.
Without experience and purpose, the owl found as he reflected, knowledge was useless.
I was bored. I'm sorry if it's not that good. No, this is not the end. On a short hiatus from The Story