The Carrot of Human Nature
A Conversation with Someone who Might or Might not be Alien, and Might or Might not be Living Inside my Head
It’s been 4228 days since the transformation hit the planet and I finally finished building my fourth carrot home.
“Carrot?!”— you blurt.
“Carrot.” — I confirm staring at you as intensely as a state governor in the face of a disaster.
Assuming you’re coming from outer space and you have been raised like a wildling, I’m inclined to excuse your ignorance and lack of prudence. Yes, that’s right — a carrot. Carrots are much sturdier than pumpkins but provide the same level of color aesthetics. Also, if you’ve ever heard about minimalism — which I doubt — carrots fit well in that category. They take less space than, let’s say, pumpkins and provide the basic living conditions every minimalist strives for. Overall, I would say your only choice is to go with carrots.
“But how did you end up living in a carrot?” — you continue to disappoint with your cluelessness.
“Well, not by choice, initially. But out of necessity and communal responsibility.” — I brief you graciously.
Since the transformation, physical space had become scant around here as the planet shrunk but everything else, except us — humanoids, grew in size multiple folds. After I lived under a maple leaf for a year,
I said: f@k it, I’m moving in a carrot.
Since then, a lot of people followed my lead and now we have a vast community of folks residing in carrots leading sustainable, happitalistic subterranean lives. We eat green stuff. Collect rainwater. Use sunlight to charge our laptops and smoothie makers. We wear hemp clothes and organize poetry slams once a week via Loom. Meanwhile, certain selfish dipsticks live large in their ground-level pumpkins, using unethically more living space than they need. They eat the red stuff of the green stuff we compost. Savages! They use river water! Can you imagine the level of exploitation! And the worst — they talk to each other face-to-face, throw a ball, and sit half-naked in the sun as if we have consented to have exposed bodies in our neighborhoods!
“So you support carrot communities out of altruistic reasons?” — you don’t quit, do you.
“Oh, yes, I’m a true believer.” — my eyes spitting glitter in annoyance.
I support carrot communities out of undying altruism! I also do believe carrots are the future while pumpkins are so yesterday’s business. There is no Halloween with its cheap and overpriced costumes anymore. Starbucks folded operations long before the disaster so youngsters don’t even know what pumpkin spice latte is. Do you have Starbucks where you’re coming from? Irrelevant — don’t answer. Pumpkins are also hefty and take up the space of at least five carrots. This is five times less opportunity to create five times more living quarters and fivefold income loss for my charitable foundation. My philanthropic goal is to accommodate more people in less space because space insufficiency is a global issue which according to my modeling projections might increase worldwide homelessness by 0.001%. It’s a grave prognosis!
“Do you have a vested interest in future carrot communities?” — you inquire but why tho!
“How dare you?!” — I dodge your question, offended.
Nooo! But probably. And mostly yes. All I do is helping as many people as possible settle in carrots by opening their eyes to the truth about the evil of the morally corrupt pumpkin lifestyle. I receive tax-exempt donations and operate all in the interest of humanity. There is no conflict of interest, though, I can assure you if that’s what you are insinuating. The bottom line is I’m a human and I work in my human interest — I repeat — no conflict of interest. I showcase pure personal care. If anything, I should be given as a role model.
“It doesn’t make any sense.” — you argue, damn you.
“It does make a lot of sense if you have lived in a carrot for 10 or so years.” — I counterargue, bless my soul.
Do you know how to make a sauna in a carrot? Can you install a bell-triggered security system against giant rabbits who threaten to eat your house with your poor maidservant inside? Do you know how to evict a Carrot Rust Fly mother from your vacation property because her ninety-seven babies eat your kitchen cabinets? No?! Then don’t tell me about sense. Sense has a new meaning here. It is everything that doesn’t fall apart. If it does the job then it does make sense. Period.
“But I thought people would learn to live undivided after the disaster?” — you say as if I care what you say.
“But I thought you were from outer space just passing — not here to pass a judgement?! What do you know about human nature, alien? — I imply that you go pluck your head out of your space-suited hind end and take off.
Our hobby is to give each other grief. Don’t expect us to give it up just because the world is crumbling down. In fact, the more crumbling it gets, the more creative we become. That’s the carrot of being human.
