My Solution to the Blue Plague: Taking My Fields Back
DE MOEREN – They think they can ruin my harvest year after year and get away with it. They think because they are small and blue, and because the city folks write pretty stories about them, that they own this stute (slice of bread) and everything on it.
Well, I’ve got news for them. This clay belongs to me, and I’m done waiting for the bureaucroatn in Brussels to help. If the government won't give me a solution to this infestation, I'll brew one myself right here in my kot (shed).
Introducing: Den Blauwen Dood
I call it Den Blauwen Dood. Don't let the name scare you—unlike the toxic garbage the big corporations try to sell you, my formula is 100% organic West Flemish spite. I make it from a concentrated mash of boiled chicory roots, sour dregs, and a few choice herbs pulled right from the polders.
"Brussels can't fine me for spraying my own crops with vegetable juice. But to those white-trousered pests? It’s pure poison to their way of life. It makes them bleitn (cry) like little babies."
How I'm Protecting the Harvest
I’ve been testing the prototype on my north patch, and the results are beautiful. It doesn't hurt my sugar beets, but it hits those little freeloaders exactly where it hurts:
The Smell of Danger: The spray carries a stench that mimics a feral, bloodthirsty farm cat. The second they sniff it, they get skittebenowt(frightened) and run straight back to the woods.
Eviction Notice: It dries out the rotting wood and damp soil they like to use for their illegal mushroom squatting, making the ground unlivable.
Bitter Crops: It leaves a microscopic coat on the beets. It tastes fine to humans, but to those kissakn (dirty beings) under six inches tall, it tastes like absolute misery.
The first full batch of my Smurfen-Repellent will be ready before the autumn frost. I'm taking my farm back, one acre at a time. The dirt doesn't lie, and it's time to wash the blue out of it. mhon ze te skeirn en van dees kji (we are going to get them this time.)
