Crap Head

“YOU IDIOT!!!” roared Keren.

It probably wasn’t the best idea.

Like giving a baby a knife.
A huge knife.
A huge sharp poisonous knife imbued with mystical powers
beheld by an ancient race of mysterious warriors known as the NeKazim. They were the most highly evolved Human species the world had ever known. Some sages speak of their origin as being foreign to this planet, yet what is known was that the NeKazim ruled the Earth long before the breakup of Pangaea. Some ancient texts suspect that during the great Zultarian-Proteteous War, the NeKazim detonated a powerful fusion warhead. The ensuing blast unleashed such a destructive force that the shock-wave itself shattered the Earth’s crust; ripping apart the continents and sending them into an eternal motion. An eternal motion that would, thousands of years later, lead Keren to drop out of medical school to pressure her life long dream of becoming a manure specialist.

Yes yes. Laugh all you want, but for Keren, this was no laughing matter.

Manure is critical to the global production of food. Without proper manure implementation, certain crops would be adversely affected, even to the point of mass extinction.

This shit is serious.
A heavy duty topic.
A very very heavy load.

And Keren knew this well. It was the essence of who she was.

But this baby didn't seem to care.

In fact, the only thing that little Albi seemed interested in was making insulting remarks (yet possibly veiled compliments) to Keren.

“You've got a crap attitude!”

It was hard to tell.

Her heart was indeed full of crap. Crap very rich in vital nutrients essential to the growth and development of virtually every major crop.

Her soul reeked of passion.

Passion so pungent, you could smell it miles away; hung low in the evening sky, wafting ever so slowly.