And all guns turned into little candy ball machines, shooting fifteen cent bullets at enemies they had never shaken hands with. Soldiers were disarmed and surprised to see candyfloss pop out of their riffle –bright pink and sparkly from all the sugar. Some gumballs still gave little bruises, but the biggest pain was to remove it from their hair and uniforms. Peanut butter, they said, should do the trick. And so thousands of men stumbled around, slightly upset yet relieved but all lost; some with gum on their hearts but no gun in their hands. Others had a lick of peanut butter on their head. The hand grenades had turned into potatoes and they were thrown onto the soil, right where they belonged. The pin had vanished, since there was no need for potatoes to explode. “What do we do when we don’t fight? What do we sing about when we cannot lose and our bodies don’t break?” They went home with no letter to write for they couldn’t explain that the world had shown them her sweet side and it tasted bitter. Their revolting tools had proven passiveness could win from the urge to act and destroy. Some asked if they were forced to shoot. “We could not.” They said. “So what did you do?” “We shook hands.”

All the things that could make the world go round: cheese in the shape of little bear faces. Men covered in edible glitter. Giant panda bears deciding on a less restrictive diet. A celebration of the greener grass on the neighbor’s lawn. Dogs that look like guinea pigs and guinea pigs that look like rock stars. Politicians crying happy tears as a result of their own policy. Prime minsters taking off their shoes at the end of the day. Poetic names for flowers and literal glass ceilings. People running for the last train. Advertisement selling us kindness instead of blue toothpaste that is supposed to magically turn your teeth white. Miniature Shell vans, filled with a few centimeters of air. Dogs, broccoli and forgotten vegetables that weren’t forgotten after all. And what do we have? Money. More or less? Read more. 

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