The manure picker of poriat farm

I have a friend.

His name is Jabez. Jabez works as a manure picker at poriat farm on the land of tripoli.
There are many animals at poriat farm - pigs, horses, sheep, geese, chickens and cows.
The manure picker of poriat farm picks up all manners of manure on poriat farm.
But Jabez chooses to do more than that.

With the pig manure, horse manure, sheep manure, geese manure, chicken manure and cow manure, Jabez the manure picker spends his non-manure picking moments distilling the manure into a fine fertillizing serum.
He then pain-stakingly furnishes the poriat apple trees with this fine fertilizing serum.
They reward him with 12 barrels full of the best apples in tripoli.
Jabez would distribute all these apples to the animals of poriat farm, leaving all but 3 for himself.

The work of a manure picker is hard, but Jabez enjoys his job.
He starts each morning with a prayer. He prays he will pick the manure well, and do poriat good.
Jabez is a happy manure picker.

Today however, Jabez is a very sad man.
He tells me his world of manure picking has come crashing down on him.
This evening, Jabez was on his way home after a day's manure picking, when he happened to chance upon the cuckatoo bathing in a roadside puddle.
Now, the cuckatoo was a rare bird to find on the ground. He was always in the air, dancing with the winds and cuckatoo-ing at the things down below.
"To what do you owe that radiant smile on your face, Jabez?" the cuckatoo asks,
"well, serving the animals of poriat makes me happy," Jabez answers.
"Are you deaf Jabez? They do not cheer, they jeer."
"what do you mean?"
"My poor man Jabez, take a look on your behind, the animals have not been kind." And took flight, the cukatoo did.
When the puddle was still again, Jabez turned for the first time, and examined his back's reflection on the puddle's surface.
The ripples distorted the grafitti that greeted him, but the affliction was unmistakable. All the way down his sides and back where his eyes had never roamed, were scrawled on remarks of spite and ridicule.
And they weren't all freshly written. Jabez realised the animals had for a long time been jeering behind his back.

The animals wanted to be the manure picker of poriat farm.
For that job, they get to stick a blade of grass behind their ear. They thought it'd make them look cool.
Looking back, Jabez realised why the percy the pig always snorted whenever he stooped low to clear the pigs' manure. Or why the horses once hid the manure down the well so he had to spend half the day down the well in knee-deep manure, to get it out of the well again.
Or why...
Or why...

And when he realised these, he was torn. torn. torn. torn.
It wasn't simply the stupidity of the animals, in their imagination of manure picking as fame's fantasy.
And it wasn't just because all that had kept him manure picking, was the belief in good for the animals.

Why, the animals who think these of him!
Weren't they his friends? He had thought so.
Jabez was crushed.
Crushed because the 5 of his bestest animal friends had thought him a hypocrite.
Crushed because the cuckatoo had kept their scrawls from him for so long.
Crushed because his fantasy land of the friends he thought he had, was obliviated.
How could they have been so snide about his manure picking?!
How could they have read the paintaking apple planting as pure hypocrisy?!
After all the shit he went through?
Jabez now wonders if something that hadn't even existed at all could be obliviated in the first place.
Beyond this 4 walls of concrete, it is raining very very hard.

But that doesn't matter anymore.
Jabez feels cheated.
He writes, and I quote:

"When I think of all the time I lost, I could cry"

I have a friend.