Antomea's Chronicle - Hera 27 The Dead-End Agricultural Culture.

The two tallest men with swollen faces look maliciously at the smaller one in the middle.

Not very proud of himself, the pack leader who limps, has so much pain to the b.u.t.tocks... Doing his best to forget the public humiliation he has just experienced, he directs his gaze toward his canvas shoes.

The 2 tall men, whose faces are marked by a small hand print, come from very modest families. Their parents are humble farmers who have never been able to provide for their education. Yet, although they know they are simple, poorly educated and did not know how much 2+2 or what a four-poster bed is, both of them knew instinctively that the little man's plan was not a good idea.

"Listen to me puppies, my plan is extremely simple but for it to work properly, it relies on 3 indissociable elements. First, the element of surprise: As soon as I raise my arm, like this, then we'll run down this slope and we'll position ourselves 100 feet in front of their tiger

... and then, we'll play on a weakness that's common to all women: fear. Specifically, by shouting, 'We are the gang of the Great and Infamous Prosper' we will create such an intense psychological impact on these neat chicks that they will lose their spatial bearings and fall off their creature. Despite the fact that you're already ugly from birth, don't forget to look terrifying...

... Remember what I'm going to teach you now: it's essential to intensify any good psychological shock...

... The third element may seem simpler at first glance, but, do not be mistaken on its importance which I insist on this point, is capital. It seems to me that you manage to understand my simple words, so I will continue...

... In order to avoid any danger, it is necessary to prepare in advance. As soon as the two beauties see our quick attack, surprised and understanding that they are being attacked by members of the most terrifying band of bandits in the area, these neat chicks, subjected to a violent psychological shock, therefore terrified, will fall to the ground and then, not waiting for a second, we will rush to kidnap them ...

... However, it will be necessary to be extremely fast, particularly precise and perfectly coordinated to avoid the possible attack of the tiger. Me, I will take care of the youngest of the neat chick. Given my small size, if I tried to carry this tall blonde, her feet dragging against the ground would slow me down. You, puppy, you will take care of this neat chick with a cleavage that overflows everywhere, as for you, puppy, your role in this mission is risky but also essential and profitable for our professional future. Yes puppy, you will serve as a decoy. While we'll be running away with the neat chicks on our shoulder, you'll be teasing the beast. It'a a piece of brioche. Go, puppies!"

Piece of brioche, he said... The swollen eye, the nose in an inappropriate direction and embarra.s.sed by his 3 teeth less, sweating in his green pajamas too short at the wrists, in order not to attract the glance of the blond monster, the most muscular of the puppies, discreetly a.s.saults a violent kick in the ankle of his leader pack.

"Ouch."

The leader pack cries in pain, but when he thinks back...

...that intoxicating scent of brioche made with fresh eggs, floating in the air. Beautiful laughing green eyes that could charm a blind man. A thin little hand reaching out to him. Yes, these magnificent images of a sweet innocence so rare, actually hid a real monster and it was: the beginning of the end for him and his puppies.

…

"Pack brothers, pack brothers, the other puppies are coming back and tonight we'll have a neat chicks feast."

The holy words lying on one page of the notebook of a hermit who traveled through these southern kingdoms and who, in these farmlands have the value of a sacred book, may help us better understand this restless man when he talks about women, whom he calls for some obscure reason: the neat chicks.

[I've already been travelling around the South for six months. From village to village, my old wooden clogs trample on ignorance in its simplest form. In these farmlands, where joy confuses with naivety, I share the long tables of dummies. O civilization, forgive me. Yesterday I ran away from you for your madness, today I cry your wisdom. O woman of the street, while in my recent youth I criticized your inclination for your perfumed futility, now, more seasoned by life, I understand why you like to soap yourself up so much. ]

These words alone who reach the ears of the few bandits who guard the small village conquered by the Great and infamous Prosper, having decided to defy too much time by entering a drinking contest, instantly make them lower their liquor bottles.

(Neat chick: a beautiful, Clean, woman who likes to please men and gives off a good smell.) All these men from the countryside know this definition. In fact, every man raised to the wheat makes a point of teaching it to his son as soon as he reaches the age of 13.

However, few of these brave men who are born with a pickaxe in their hands will ever have the chance to come across one of those neat chick, whose mythical taste so refined when they grow up, gives them hope others alternatives to forks and manure.

A future all written out, for a woman already chosen. At best, their parents will arrange a marriage for them with a brave girl, not too ugly, not too dirty. Someone nice who will give them 6 more or less decent children, including sons who will be able to take over the farm and daughters whom they will marry in their turn to get a nice sum of money, but not one of these unfortunate people with dirt-covered hands would dare to dream of holding a neat chick in his arms.

For these men, who come above all from the lowest social cla.s.ses of the countryside, shock mingles with joy, and not being able to contain the hope of a lifetime, without even thinking to warn the Great Prosper, all rush to the neat chicks.

…

He sees himself again a few minutes ago. He's not so young, not so talented, and in the opinion of many slanderous women, he might even be, not so handsome, but this morning he felt no different than a multi-talented young man facing a crossroads overlooking hundreds of roads.

He could already see himself headlong into the house his boss claimed ownership. In his phantasms of man without morals, he held the two beautiful girls by the hair and like a virile male, with dignity, he threw them like the less than nothing on the beautiful carpet from the East, at the feet of the Great Prosper.

His boss, surprised by their unparalleled beauty, raised his eyes to discover by what prodigy he had been graced with such a gift, and he, a man not so young, not so talented and not even so handsome according to some very slanderous women, but with an ambition greater than his size can contain, he respectfully bowed his head.

Not too much though, he may be at the orders of the Great Prosper, but he is not his devoted slave.

By exhausting his last forces to push against the b.u.t.tocks of this tiger who, in order to obey the orders of the blond little monster, sat on the ground, the little man cannot help but meditate at length on the realities of this world.

[Do fantasies exist for never to be realized? Yes, otherwise, why else would we name them phantasms?]

Breathless but satisfied with this all too rare intellectual fulgurance, it is with a smile on his lips that he collapses heavily on the ground covered with sharp stones, than, wink of fate, a month ago, he himself placed.