Camel and her friend Lion were the best of buds growing up. They raced each other to the watering hole, snuck off to an elephant graveyard on more than one occasion, and had a great time lounging in the African grass cloud-watching. They grew older, grew apart. Camel believed everything she was told, and because Camel believed, Lion believed also. But darkness grew over the land when Lion smelled his friend Camel's blood for the first time, when she cut herself on a Savannah stone. Lion tore at her, the race this time final. Camel ran as fast as she could, but was outmatched by Lion's muscles. Lion ate his best friend, but not without regret.
Lion ran away from home. He shaved off his growing mane and proceeded to wander, starving himself to death. Then along came a village. The lion knew the villagers would kill him if they got the chance, so he hunkered down along the banks of a nearby river, haunting visions of his best friend, and he realized that everything he was told was a lie. That it wasn't in his nature to eat his fellow animal. Or if it was in his nature, it wasn't in his heart.
The villagers were well aware of the lion's presence near their drinking water. The problem needed to be fixed, so the villagers rounded up their warrior clan to kill the lion. A little boy, son of a warrior, wanted to watch, and when he was told to stay behind, he picked up a spear and tagged along without anyone's knowledge. When they cornered the lion on the banks, the lion about to pounce on its attackers, the little boy flung his spear into the air, nabbed the lion on the shoulder, and the lion's body fell.
The villagers ate well. Many years later, this little boy became king of this land, and in his coronation speech, he spoke of a new era, a new time, new ideas.
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
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