This is the story of the White Man.
One day the White Man sailed home. “We must plant these seeds that I have brought from the Americas - plant them in the soil and cover them with all our animals’ droppings. Then, in time, these seeds will turn into food, which we will harvest and eat, and survive.” The White Man’s people heard these words and at once began to plant the seeds.
The next day the White Man raised his sails and left for the Indies.
In a fortnight the White Man had reached the Indies. The Indies looked like his homeland, as did the Americas, and come to think of it, Britain, France, Spain, and even Ireland. There were trees and there was grass and trails that led to villages and roads that wound around mountains, eventually leading to valleys and large bodies of fresh water.
The White Man was wary of the Indies. He had heard stories about the people who lived there. He had heard that they were savages. He had heard that they ate each other, slept with each other’s sisters, wives, brothers, mothers, fathers, dogs, cats, chickens, alpaca. The White Man had one hand, forever on his trusty revolver, and the other out in front of him, as if to say, “Here, cut this off first.”
Okay, so the savages smelled like rosewater. The White Man smelled like Venison.
Okay, so the White Man makem friends with the Savage. The Savage, he say, really he mumble in savagery: yip diddly dip, snickity snick tick tick flop flop moppity jibber jabber bagger be bum be bum ba tip tam cam ham sam.
To which the White Man replenished: There are no bam-tuckers, sam-whistlers, gargantums, flap-mansions! And one by one the savages lined up to buy some of the White Man’s snake oil and instead of giving it to the sick and dying they put it in their frying pans and grilled up one hell of ‘n omelette. Boy, if it didn’t taste like shits-revenge. Say, boy if it wasn’t something from the bottom of a barrel of dead dick lard. Then this leggy savage walks by. Legs up to here. Legs out to the nearest gas station. Holy moses. White Man shoots her right between the breasts. Hot damn, what a raucous that followed…
