Burning the Windmill, A Parable

Frankenstein’s Monster terrorizes the town.

The people gather their torches and pitchforks and chase the monster down.

The monster runs into the windmill to escape the angry mob.

“The monster is trapped inside the windmill!” a man shouts.

“What should we do?” another asks.

“Let’s burn the fucking windmill!” someone yells.

So they burn the fucking windmill and the monster burns with it.

“Ha! We got the son of a bitch!” a man cheers.

“Terrorize us now, you asshole!” another shouts.

Then the miller walks up and sees his windmill burning and he cries out, “what the fuck?”

“We got the monster,” someone explains.

“My fucking windmill!” the miller cries.

“It’s cool,” a woman says. “The monster is dead and won’t terrorize us anymore.”

“Well, are you going to build me a new one?” the miller asks.

But no one replies. They had already turned and walked off back to their homes. The monster was dead and no it was time to go to sleep.

“Guys, I need my windmill,” the miller yells after them. “It’s kind of important and packaged, pre-sliced bread won’t be invented for a while. Guys? Oh, fuck you all.”

The people spend the next week rejoicing and drinking. They get drunk and celebrate their defeat of the monster that terrorized them.

A month later, all of the villagers realize that they have no bread. So they go to the miller and knock on his door.

“Why is there no bread?” they ask.

“Because you burnt down my fucking windmill,” the miller answers.

“Oh,” one of the villagers gasps. “I guess that was a little short sighted of us.”