the bugkiller never wanted to be a bugkiller.
as a child, he wanted to be an artist. he painted beautiful paintings of rocks and trees and the moon. everyone loved them, but not enough to pay for them. so he had to get what his father called a real job.
he tried to get a job as a guard, and he tried to get a job as a farmer, but the only job he could get was killing bugs.
that was years ago.
now, he was married. he had a nice home and two kids. but business was bad, and he needed money or the banker was going to take away his house and put his family on the street.
so the bugkiller reached into his bag for the poison pellets that paid his bills, and he scattered them across the room.
—
there are more than two sides to every story. there are hundreds of sides. and the more you see, the harder it is to know. this is #zen
