A Fly sat on the pole of a cart, being pulled by a Mule.

The Fly, dissatisfied at the slow pace of the Mule, called out to him, ‘Hey Mule, how slowly you pull this cart! Go faster, for I am in a hurry! Don’t dawdle, or I will prick you with my sting!’

The Mule replied scornfully, ‘I don’t care about you, nor am I afraid of your sting! I fear only my Master, who is sitting on the seat next to you. He holds the reins through which he controls my mouth; his sharp whip dictates how I go. So stop your silly threats. I know when I must go slow and when I must run.’

Empty threats invite ridicule.