This is a very old story which for various reasons (mostly sloth), I haven’t added to the collection until now. Thanks to Bill Raike for this version.

Once upon a time there was a magical Polynesian kingdom, whose happy subjects were content to live in grass huts and take their living from their lagoon. They thanked their god-king, whose powers derived from his golden throne, for the sea’s largesse.

But one day a disgruntled and greedy villager thought to steal the golden throne, sell it to the strange foreign visitors when next they landed in their great ships, and use the proceeds to set himself up in a nice little restaurant business in San Francisco.

In the dark of night he made off with the magical royal seat and concealed it in his hut, to await his opportunity. Feeling pleased, he proceeded to drink himself into a stupor while watching the flickering candlelight gleam off his prize. By ill luck, as he lost consciousness he knocked over the candle, which ignited the grass hut, burnt the unfortunate thief to cinders and exposed the plot and the stolen booty to the morning light.

Moral: People who live in grass houses should not stow thrones.