Prose May 9, 2014
There once were twenty thieves, sitting in the shade of a giant blade of grass. They had a leader, a strong, but little man. He stood up from the group and started talking to the other thieves. He said: “You know, men, there once were twenty thieves, not much different from us, sitting under a big blade of grass. Nineteen of them were lazy sons of bitches, not much different from all of you, but they had a large, strong leader, not much different from me.” The leader abruptly stopped talking as one of his men had raised his hand, as if he was to ask a question. The leader pointed at him. “But you aren’t really large, right?”, the thieve said. Without stopping staring at the thieve who just talked, the thieve leader slowly took off his left shoe and threw it at his face. He missed, which according to some people was a pity, others said they could not care less.
The thieve leader continued to speak: “The leader of the group got up from the ground and spoke to the other thieves with a deep, rich, voice, just like mine.” The man whose face was not damaged from the shoe, as is should be, attempted to put his hand up, but another shoe landed in his face before he could. The thieve leader continued again: “…