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Normally, I claim to be a primordial kind of man, and proud of it.
Hair grows on my chest and belly and even a bit on my back. I'm retrosexual, with a club in my one hand, dragging a woman at her hair over the floor with the other. I'm down to earth, full of disdain for this world of wellness, pedicure for dogs, hedonistic partying and other "fun culture" idiocies. I'm little receptive for consumerism.
And now this!
I'm harvesting potatoes from my organic garden, hammering my hoe into the ground when all of a sudden a vole, which I must have nearly missed, jumps out of it. In rage, since these little bastards reduce my potato harvest by a quarter and especially because one of them bit off the roots of my best zucchini plant, I try to kill her with another hit of my hoe.
I miss. Waiting for my prey.
Then I hear a small whimsy "peep peep peep" coming from the hole I opened.
A strong feeling of remorse overcame me, knowing I almost killed a mother, leaving the babies helpless to starvation or predators.
Still, I wasn't sure whether to kill the breed or not. Then I saw the brave mother vole come out of the bushes again, at the rescue of her babies. Under my very eyes - she mustered me and I mustered her - she started to drag out a few whimpering hairless bundles one by one to the bushes. She had no protection whatsoever, knowing I was standing there - pure bravery!
I remained there in awe, gruntlingly swearing to her, asking her to leave my garden with her breed forever as exchange for sparing their lives. I doubt that she listened.
I was almost crying.
I'm decadent.
This is how the vole looked like:
Hair grows on my chest and belly and even a bit on my back. I'm retrosexual, with a club in my one hand, dragging a woman at her hair over the floor with the other. I'm down to earth, full of disdain for this world of wellness, pedicure for dogs, hedonistic partying and other "fun culture" idiocies. I'm little receptive for consumerism.
And now this!
I'm harvesting potatoes from my organic garden, hammering my hoe into the ground when all of a sudden a vole, which I must have nearly missed, jumps out of it. In rage, since these little bastards reduce my potato harvest by a quarter and especially because one of them bit off the roots of my best zucchini plant, I try to kill her with another hit of my hoe.
I miss. Waiting for my prey.
Then I hear a small whimsy "peep peep peep" coming from the hole I opened.
A strong feeling of remorse overcame me, knowing I almost killed a mother, leaving the babies helpless to starvation or predators.
Still, I wasn't sure whether to kill the breed or not. Then I saw the brave mother vole come out of the bushes again, at the rescue of her babies. Under my very eyes - she mustered me and I mustered her - she started to drag out a few whimpering hairless bundles one by one to the bushes. She had no protection whatsoever, knowing I was standing there - pure bravery!
I remained there in awe, gruntlingly swearing to her, asking her to leave my garden with her breed forever as exchange for sparing their lives. I doubt that she listened.
I was almost crying.
I'm decadent.
This is how the vole looked like:
Attached Files
bravery has to be rewarded with respect.
ACK!
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