bob and joe lived in a house on the hill, with a couple of acres of farmland.
it was not much of a house, not much more than a shack.
and the house and the farm really belonged to mister f.
joe was bob’s slave.
joe did all the work around the house and the farm, while bob sat on the porch and watched him.
bob gave joe a beating every day, with a stick six days a week and with a whip on sundays.
mister f had given bob a large number of boxes of cigars, and bob sat the porch and smoked one every day as he watched joe work.
the boxes were not replenished or replaced and bob would eventually run out of cigars.
when that day arrived, mister f would come to the farm with a new supply of cigars, and bob and joe would switch places.
joe would then be the master and bob would be the slave .
bob got down to his last box of cigars and the day of mister f’s visit approached.
bob began to get nervous, and tried to reach out to joe and treat him a bit more gently.
“you know, joe,” he would say, “we are both in this together. i am just a person , just like you.”
or “we are both of us just pawns in mister f’s game. we should get together to resist him.”
one day bob did not even give joe his beating.
but joe did not respond to these overtures, and kept his own counsel.
finally the day arrived. bob was out of cigars.
bob and joe waited for mister f but he did not show up.
they waited another day and mister f still did not show up, either with the cigars or without.
bob turned into a snake and slithered away through the sparse grass.
joe turned into a bird and flew away.
or maybe it was the other way around, and bob was the bird and joe was the snake.
neither of them ever saw mister f again.
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