Twas the Eighth Day of the Lock Down. Cone Man power-walked to the lookout at the crest of the Hill of the Gods. He encountered and counted 33 others walking on the same hill. Keeping his distance he hailed each fellow walker they passed him by. Some gaily returned his greeting while others strode by, indifferent to his offered bonhomie.
Unfazed by the varying reactions of his fellow walkers, Cone Man returned to his man cave and pondered the suffering of his fellow human beings. "Cold is the heart that feels nothing for the suffering of others" Cone Man cone-sidered.
Suffering was indeed multiplying. The Land of the All Black Tribe faced the prospect of 11 per cent unemployment following in the wake of the terrible Coronavirus Monster. Cone Man had last seen that level of unemployment during the Recession of 1991-1994. He had worked in a supermarket in the Land of the Aucks to survive that period.
Cone Man understandably sympathized with supermarket staff who were overworked, underpaid, endangered and abused. Their abusers apparently saw nothing wrong with continuing to eat from the very shelves that the supermarket workers stacked.
Himself an aspiring writer, he also sympathized with the hundreds of Legend Bearers who were informed that their legends would no longer required. The Paper Lords saw the catastrophic collapse in revenue from advertising and had no choice but to let the Legend Bearers bear the shock of this legendary catastrophe.
"Legend bearing may not be much of a job" Cone Man mused "but it sure beats stacking supermarket shelves for a living … "
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