There was once a king on a Pacific island who lived in a grass hut. He was getting on in years and to compensate for his feelings of loss at growing older, he began to collect thrones. Each day he had his artisans build him a throne, each new throne more magnificent than the previous one, and after admiring the throne for a while he would become bored with it and have it put away in his attic.

This ruse to divert himself from his morbid feelings became less effective as time went on, and one day out of frustration he had his goldsmith create for him a throne twice as large as all of the previous ones, and made of pure gold. But he got bored with this one as he had with all of the others, and he ordered his servants to put it away in the attic.

This last, heavy throne was too much for the hut to support, and seconds after it was placed in the attic, it came crashing through the floor, with all of the other thrones following after it, landing on top of the king and crushing him to death.

Moral: People who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones...