Challenge #01940-E116: Mama Done Tole Me
a world that's basically space America but taken to its logical extreme and becoming a redneck paradise -- Anon Guest
[AN: Trying not to go to Greater Deregulation here]
There are the Few, but we don't go near the likes of them. We are the Many. We look after our own. We make do with what we got. We earn what we can, and we got our pride. Every now and again, the Few come along and try to tell us what t' do, but we ain't never paid no attention to it. They go away if'n we wait long enough.
The Few ain't no trouble. It's the Revinu that are the trouble. They're the ones that steal our young men. The fit ones, of course. Take 'em away to their secret bases and turn ours into them. Everyone knows the story of how Li'l Billy got took, and nobody heard hide nor hair of him for years. And then one day he turned up in Revinu armour. His gramma recognised him. Tried to tell him off for attacking his family.
Yeah. She got shot. You don't stand up to Revinu. That's how you get dead. No, what you do is be meek as milk, let 'em upset everythin', and deny anything they find. They don't care about the system of your stuff. They don't care that one of your bedrooms is your storage space. They don't care about none of it. They just want us took, and locked up, so's the Few have got themselves a work force.
That's how it goes. If you're not fit enough to fight for the Few as a Revinu, then you're gonna wind up getting locked up. Then y'all gotta spend a ten-year cleaning for the Few or gardening for them or whatnot. Aunt Becky just got back from her term, last week. Wore near to the bone.
The Few insist on callin' us lazy. They ain't never gone hunting. They ain't never worked a field. They ain't never chased a goat in their lives. And once you done your ten-year, you'll see. The Few spend all their days staring at screens and talking to folks they can't see. Pushin' money all day. Betting on this or that. Buying up all the beautiful things that you'll never see in a Big Box. Talking about how we all could just have nice things if'n we try.
No such, nowhere, no how. We don't get no money. We do barter. It's only them as done a ten-year that can afford to even look in a Big Box. Or them as have themselves a Deal with someone. But don't you go near them as have a Deal. They're like to betray you to the Revinu, soon as look at you. They're crooked. Even worse than the Few.
The Dealers make the brain poisons. Now I ain't talkin' about the honest stuff like 'baccy or liquor. Y'all know where that comes from. I'm talking about the bad stuff. The stuff that takes your soul away from the Almighty. Your meth and your crank and your needles. They're just plain no good. They rip our your love for your family and make everything you do 'bout gettin' your next score.
The Dealers also got themselves book-learning. Science and stuff. That's how they make the poisons. Get good little youngins like yourself into all kinds of things against the word o' gee-zuss. Don't get me wrong, I ain't against a li'l learning. Figuring out how to make crops grow better or the cattle get fatter... That's good. But makin' worse poisons to get little 'uns took off? That ain't no good never.
We stay strong by staying together. Looking after our family. Stay sweet for the Revinu and kill any Dealer on sight. That's how the world works.
Now you mind all 'o that. Remember. We're the Many. We are strong. And we are meek. And gee-zuss tells us that the meek will inherit. You just wait. And don't do nothing that can get you took.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / twoellis]
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