Once upon a time there was a very rich, very vain man who thought himself quite handsome - until the day he lost his right leg in a hunting accident. So he went to see the woodworker who worked down by the docks and made wooden legs for all the sailors who came home one short.

“Make me a leg that will pass for real,” said the rich man, “and I'll give you your weight in gold.”

So the woodworker, used to creating simple peg legs, worked long into the night. When the rich man came back, he strapped it on, took a few steps, and snarled in frustration. “You call this a knee? It hardly bends at all! This leg wouldn't fool a blind man! Try again!”

So the woodworker took the leg back, and fashioned a joint that would hold strong when standing, but bend and swivel with easy when kneeling or walking. The rich man came back, tried it on, and almost smiled as he pointed his toes. But then his breeches caught on the rough wood, and he ripped the prosthetic leg off, hurling it across the shop. “Not good enough! I'll give you one last chance.” For the vain man wanted a leg more than he wanted to insult the woodworker.

The woodworker sanded until his fingers bled, using increasingly fine sheets of sandpaper, until the wood was skin-smooth and soft. And the rich man came back, and slid the finest silk hose over the leg without the smallest hole or tear. And the man shouted with joy and paid the woodworker in full (not even bothering to demand he be weighed without his shoes), and strolled off happily on his two good legs.

Until some thieving Squat bastards stole the prosthetic one. How did you think Sheila gets her stock?