"The Tale of the Foolish Friends"

In a quiet little forest nestled between rolling hills and a bubbling brook, lived two best friends: Jabu the jackal and Bomo the baboon. Though they were as different as day and night—Jabu was sly and quick-witted while Bomo was loud and stubborn—they did everything together. They shared meals, played games, and often came up with wild ideas to outsmart the other animals.

But the truth was: neither was very smart.

One sunny morning, as dew still clung to the leaves and the air was filled with birdsong, Bomo came bounding into Jabu’s den with an idea. His eyes were wide with excitement.

"Jabu! I’ve had the best idea ever!" Bomo declared, bouncing in place.

Jabu, who had just settled down for a nap, sighed. "Is this like the time you tried to build a treehouse on a termite mound?"

This is even better!" Bomo said, ignoring the jab. "We’re going to find the legendary Golden Mango!"

Jabu's ears perked up. Everyone in the forest had heard of the Golden Mango—an enormous, shimmering fruit said to bring wealth and wisdom to whoever found it.

"That mango is just a myth," Jabu scoffed. "No one’s ever seen it."

"Exactly!" Bomo grinned. "Which means no one else will be looking for it. Think about it—once we find it, we’ll be the smartest and richest animals in the forest!"

The promise of riches and admiration was too muck for Jabu to resist. He agreed, and the two set off with nothing more than a tattered map Bomo had found in an old tree trunk and a bag full of bananas.

Their journey led them deep into the forest, through thorny bushes, over slippery rocks, and across a rickety bridge guarded by an old tortoise.

“Only those with wisdom may pass,” the tortoise said in a gravelly voice.

“We’re definitely wise!” Bomo said confidently.

“What’s the square root of sixteen?” asked the tortoise.

Bomo blinked. Jabu coughed. “Uhh… mango?”

The tortoise shook his head and sighed. “Just go. I’m too old for this.”

With a cheer, they crossed the bridge, completely unaware that the tortoise had let them pass out of pity, not proof of wisdom.

After three days and three nights, they reached a cliff overlooking a glowing grove. In the center, on a pedestal made of stone, was the Golden Mango—glimmering like the sun itself.

“There it is!” Bomo whispered.

“Let’s grab it and go,” Jabu said.

They tiptoed into the grove, dodging vines and bees, until they reached the pedestal. But just as Jabu reached out to pluck the fruit, a booming voice echoed through the trees.

“WHO SEEKS THE GOLDEN MANGO?”

A giant parrot, with feathers of emerald and fire, swooped down and landed before them. Its eyes glowed with ancient knowledge.

“I am Professor Pollo, guardian of the mango,” he squawked. “Answer me three questions, or leave empty-handed.”

Bomo whispered to Jabu, “We’re doomed.”

But Jabu, ever the smooth talker, stepped forward. “Ask your questions, oh feathery one.

The parrot nodded. “First: What is the greatest gift a friend can give?”

“Money!” Bomo shouted.

Jabu rolled his eyes. “No, no, it’s... laughter?”

“Wrong,” said the parrot. “The answer is trust.”

The mango pulsed red.

“Second: What grows smaller the more you share it?”

Bomo frowned. “My patience.”

“Your brain?” Jabu added helpfully.

The parrot sighed. “No. A secret.”

The mango glowed redder.

“Last chance. Third question: What is more valuable—being clever, or being kind?”

This time, both friends paused. They looked at each other.

Jabu was clever, always scheming. Bomo was rarely kind, always loud and impulsive. But here they were, two foolish friends on a foolish quest, and neither had the answers.

“I think... being kind,” Bomo said slowly. “Because being clever never stopped us from getting into trouble.”

Jabu nodded reluctantly. “Yeah... kindness would’ve helped us cross the bridge, talk to the tortoise, maybe even ask for help instead of doing this alone.”

The mango pulsed gold.

Professor Pollo nodded. “You’ve learned something important. The Golden Mango grants not wealth or wisdom, but reflection. And now you know why no one keeps it—it’s meant to be passed on.”

The mango vanished in a burst of light, leaving behind two smaller, silver mango seeds.

“Plant these,” the parrot instructed. “Grow your own fruit. But this time, do it the right way.”

Jabu and Bomo walked back home in silence, the seeds tucked carefully in Bomo’s banana bag.

Months passed. They planted the seeds together, tended the saplings, and shared their story with others. The forest animals laughed, but also listened. Because while Jabu and Bomo were still a bit foolish, they were no longer unwise.

And soon, two beautiful mango trees grew, bearing not golden fruit, but sweet, ordinary mangoes—shared freely with anyone who asked.

And that, they agreed, was a better treasure after all.

Moral of the Story:

True friendship isn’t about being the cleverest or the richest—it’s about learning, growing, and sticking together, even through your most foolish moments.