O believers, listen to the wacky wisdom of the druid who preaches at Schalcke, where the world-famous German soccer club of the same name delights the faithful with holy work. For he who has no ears to listen, read lips.
It happened at the time when the sleepy king of the free world ordered a big count of the masks, so that everyone could be estimated for the big masquerade, there lived a wealthy farmer, who had two sons, whose names were Dumbo and Tarzan.
While the rustic Dumbo worked like a madman in his father's fields, the chic Tarzan spent his days with games, wine, women and song.
One day, the gambling-addicted descendant in the stage of wine-blissful drunkenness sought out the godly patriarch, who was just looking at his fattest potatoes to ease the grief because Schalcke had once again been relegated to the amateur top league by devilish work.
"Eh old sack, what are you crying so around? Better give me my inheritance, so I can junk dat in Gelsum!"
Thus spoke the sinful son.
"Oh ingrate, don't you know about that work of Satan, that my Schalcke will have to play against Burpston and Shiton Village soon?"
Sadly, the fanatic fan with the thickest potatoes shook his graying head, wiping a tear from his turnip-nosed face.
"Dat is me no matter, give already dat dough!"
Horrified at the ignorance of his drunken son, the devout farmer pleaded to the God of the footy ball for enlightenment and lo, the holy un-spirit came upon him.
"No matter? Some people do not know how much they transgress! So be it, now take the 30 silver pieces!"
"Boah, thanks old wreck. Finally I get out of dat shithole!"
So the generous farmer paid the cosmopolitan son the filthy mammon, because the ways of the Lord are blue-white like the club colors of Schalke and unfathomable. Whom he loves, he tests in his inhuman wisdom, because otherwise Schalke would not have been relegated!
So the Dumbo, blessed by the holy simplicity, continued to work for God's wages on the latifundia of the holy father, on whom the Lord looked down with pleasure, because he watched the soccer performances on the sports channel all day long in mediative prayer. Hallelujah!
On the other hand, the unbelieving legacy hunter enjoyed his life and spent his fortune on women, fancy cars and a comfortable life. Thus it came as it had to come and God's five-year plan had intended it. Since he had no real desire to work, our Epicurean was soon broke and the big hangover began. So now the repentant sinner went to the faithful mentally handicapped father and begged for forgiveness.
"Dude, I'm out of dough. Forgive me my debts, because I joined the Schalke fan club. I was thinking in my head that the old man is really smart!”
With tears of joy in his eyes, the countryman, blessed with the cleverness of his potatoes, embraced the purified Filius.
"I knew that you, O pride of my loins, would find your way to the true faith. So may the prodigal son return to his father's arms and blow the rest of the fortune on Schalke!"
But then unholy envy of the brother seized the hard-working Dumbo, so he said to his football-fearing father.
"Beloved father, how can you accept that prodigal and dazzler back into your grace, especially since he himself is too stupid to fountain?"
Seriously the most unwise of all patriarchs looked at the worn-out envious man.
"Is it true that you, my son Dumbo, secretly watch games of the diabolical Borussians, the declared enemies of Schalke, God and all mankind, whose humble ball skills are an abomination before the Lord.? Don't deny it, wretch, I have irrefutable proof through the secret video surveillance, because the eye of the Lord sees everything."
Contrite, the fallen man sank to his knees and wept bitterly for his unforgivable sin.
"Forgive me Father, for I did not know what I was doing in my exhaustion from working in the fields. When I realized it, I immediately turned off the flicker box!"
"For this, O traitor, you shall do slave labor to the tenth degree, so that your brother can party on Schalke and I can pay my subscription to the sports channel!"
Gratefully, the cursed man kissed the patriarch's feet and hurried to the fields full of motivation.
Verily I say to you, sooner a representative of the people is overcome by probity than a fan of Borussia enters paradise. So may you always remember the words of the Lord, which are:
'The ball is round and a game lasts 90 minutes.'
So may you better inherit lunatics than spoil with hard work.
© 2022 H.K.H Jeub & The druid de Tingeltangel
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