A man walked a hot road carrying a jug of milk. He heard a thin, desperate noise near the verge. A snake, dying of thirst. The man knelt, tilted the jug, and gave the snake enough milk to drink.
The snake, grateful, offered a reward. Follow me. I will show you a treasure. The snake coiled its way to a particular stone in the hillside. The man lifted the stone and found a hoard of gold underneath — real, ancient treasure. He began to gather it up.
The snake, without warning, coiled itself around the man's neck and began to squeeze. You stole my treasure, the snake hissed. Now I will kill you for it.
The man, choking, pleaded for a fair hearing. They agreed to bring the case to King Solomon.
In the royal court the snake testified first. It quoted Scripture with precision. Thou shalt bruise his heel (Genesis 3:15) — the curse on the original serpent in Eden. I am permitted to strike at the heel of every human. This man is now within my rights.
Solomon listened. Then he issued an order. The court must be fair. Both parties must stand at equal level during testimony. Snake, uncoil and come down from this man's neck. Stand on the floor.
The snake obeyed. It uncoiled itself and dropped to the floor.
Solomon immediately turned to the man. Now read the next part of the verse. And you shall bruise his head (Genesis 3:15). Strike.
The man brought his heel down and killed the snake where it lay.
Gaster's Exempla (No. 441a, 1924) preserves the tale as a parable of Jewish jurisprudence. The same verse that licensed the snake's attack also licensed the man's defense — but only Solomon's wisdom knew that the order of the phrases matters. Read one way, Genesis 3:15 is a death sentence. Read the other way, it is a rescue. The entire Jewish legal tradition, the rabbis whisper, is a careful argument about which direction to read the verse.