A Grim Story

You may have heard of the tales collected by the brothers Grimm but this isn’t one of them.

Once upon a time there were three brothers. Not being a fairy tale, you will understand that there were no magic beans, cows or valiant princes involved. They were just three ordinary sons. The younger two left home as soon as possible, got together with various women and sired many grandchildren.

The oldest, who was conscientious and kind, got left behind to care for his old mother. He did not marry or have children, which was a shame, as he might have been quite good at either. However, he stayed at home, pursued his career and paid the mortgage, giving over his life to caring for Mother.

Come the time when their mother became elderly and sick, the older brother had to look after her. For a long time he did nothing else, until his best friend who lived in a foreign land, told him that he should seek help.

Finally, in her last days, there was help for Mother and the eldest son could stop taking time off work to care for her, which was a very good thing as his employers were not kindly barons who made allowances for men with sick mothers but only for women with sick children. (You remember that this is a modern, not a fairy tale).

When the old lady was very ill, the best friend, who happened to be a Black Shaman, crossed the seas to black-shamanhelp the older brother. She offered her support both physical, emotional and magical when the old lady died. The younger sons were still nowhere to be seen but they began asking about her valuables. Before she was laid to rest, one staked his claim on her jewels, which made the Black Shaman very angry indeed.

Resting a hand on the older brother’s shoulder she asked him gently “What was the worst thing you had to do for your mother before she died?” The grey-haired man didn’t want to say but as the Black Shaman knew all about death she suggested,

“Was it clearing up her shite? Having to get your hands dirty in your own mother’s excrement when she fouled herself?”

He sighed deeply, shuddered and nodded.

“I thought so.” She replied. “It happens to everyone at the end. They crap themselves and become as little babies so their offspring have to repay the service the parent did them in their youth. So I suggest, if you brothers want her jewels, you tell them to come here, as the law of the land dictates that only you three can inherit her wealth. Pile her valuables in a bucket, fill it with excrement and invite them to dive in and help themselves, If you don’t feel strong enough to do it yourself, allow me to help. I am, after all, a bringer of justice and karma.”

The older brother, being the kind, gentle soul he was, appreciated the joke but didn’t feel up to doing that so his dear friend took the task from him and said,

“Either give me the jewels and I will immerse them in shite, or offer your brothers their value in money, telling them what the other option is. I am sure they will see sense. Paying to travel to guddle about in pooh not being a nice choice, they will cede.”


Pick your relatives wisely and your friends even more so. If you are fortunate enough to be friends with a Black Shaman, take their advice, for they know human nature very well.



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