a little story

I said I would write a story,

Not sure if it would be a happy or sad one but I promised I would.

Its late at night and I am drinking again. Not sure if its to escape reality or to destress while reading and dissecting articles of our impending economical doom.

I keep thinking of piggies, so perhaps its appropriate I create a short story and metaphor.

So there was once a piggy. Short, round, a baby. Offspring of prize-winning swine – fine is not an adjective to describe this domesticated animal.

This piggy grew, and my, what a beast he became! Huge, robust. A meaty contender. A fearsome and awesome hog. The farmer fed him what he could, but the pig always wanted more. He had to have his own pen, unshared, because with his size he easily would kill any other piggies that tried to munch on the slaw allotted.

The farmer thought him to be magnificent enough to take to a county fair, perhaps win a prize.

So the farmer had his 2 children usher the beast into a portable trailer. Unfortunately, the farmer underestimated the power of the hog and this animal then trampled and killed his 2 children.

The hog did not go to the fair. It did not win any prizes.

Its consumption did not bring him a life of breeding for him, or comfort. Instead, the farmer decided to kill the beast and use the carnage to feed the town, no charge.

This 1,000 pound pig who would not cease to eat, who would not share, shared the same fate as all the rest of the pigs. Death, consumption. Perhaps there was more joy and celebration in the death of the other pigs before him, but this huge pig was not missed nor celebrated.

And thats what I think of the elite.

You can monopolize, consume, take advantage of the hand that feeds you.

But you will die the same death as us, and you will not be missed. Your half-assed philanthropy will not save you, and no one will shed a tear. Your children are part of the elite, so their emotions and feelings are worthless in the grand scheme of things.

I truly don’t think there is anything wholesome or good that can come from your allotted money.

My suggestion to you is to give it away for free.

Ask for nothing in return.

Give, to strangers, to beautiful young girls, to non-profits, to organizations abroad, to individuals who don’t necessarily share their story.

You don’t need all that money.

You are more than fine with half of it.

Give it to brown people, to black people, to communities that know how to speak and understand the Earth and Universe in ways that you’ve only read about.

Send to me, a Goddess,

Send,

give it away.

I made you rich.

Published by

evillatina

A chameleon, constantly adapting but remaining true to my values. Dominant Latinx, Artist, and (wannabe) Aesthetic Philosopher. Musing about love and D/s, occasionally reminiscing on past affairs and experiences. Ageless.

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