Dylan's Journal

This is the result of some weird reflection I was doing after I woke up this morning.

My name’s Jock, and I’m a crow farmer. It’s an honest job, and it pays the bills. Each morning I wake at 4, and go feed the crows, wash their trousers, and shave them.

Killing the crows for food isn’t evil, because I don’t reckon they mind terribly. Not very bright, the crows. But I also reckon killing a man (or a woman ’specially) is always evil.

If you, dear reader, will allow it, I’ll construct a strawman argument to illustrate this.

What? No nays?

Well, you see, there was this Strawman named Pete. Pete was a real jerk, he was. Always scaring away my crows. I also suspected he was sleeping with my wife, ’cause of all the straw I’d find in my bed.

Well, none of that is worth getting all worked up about. Live and let live, as the man says.

But one day, old Pete was drunk on ethanol. He was roaring drunk, in fact. He came at me with a pitchfork. I tried talkin old Pete out of it, but his mind was set to spill my intestines that day.

I parried with him for a while. His pitchfork aimed at my jugular, I did the only thing I could do. I took my lucky needle and shoved it up his haystack.

Hi fell to pieces, dead.

Now, folks, this was an evil deed. Pete was a living, breathing Strawman. And I took his life. There’s no way of looking at it but as evil. However, it had to be done.

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 10th, 2005 at 12:39 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.