The Hoarders are grimy men in damp caves with cold hands clinging to stolen fruit. I know what you’re thinking. You don’t take fruit and put it in a damp cave. “But,” say the Hoarders, “the Wantings are really very nasty. The Wantings are unlovely and ungrateful (even though they are beautiful) and you can’t really blame us for keeping it to ourselves. What are we to do? Shove it in their faces? Wantings would probably laugh, because they think the fruit trees died after KneeChee. We try hard to understand the Wantings, but they constantly curse us and the gardener, and that’s not very nice, is it? On a brighter note, we generally do prefer this dark cave. It is rather a nice cave after all.”
The Hoarders also prefer their own company. One can’t blame them. Two grimy men are better than one. For if they are grimy, the one will help the other clean up. But woe to him who is alone when he is grimy, for he has no one to help him clean up.
The Sharers, on the other hand, live above ground in the wide open spaces of Dom. They are very few. They are some of the saddest-looking people. Their bodies are noticeably deformed, and they (strangely) keep fresh fruit hanging around their necks and all the way down their backs. Their stories differ, but for many of them, they were collecting fruit in the garden and began following many of the Hoarders in Dom to the cave door, and many of them were walking right down into the steps of the cave when they realized, “Oh dear! This isn’t where we’re supposed to be at all!” They stumbled and abruptly turned around and wound through the crowds of Hoarders descending into the dark caves. Now they live up in the wide open spaces where many Wantings are coming and going.
You’d have to see it to believe it, but the Sharers actually give away much of their fruit to Wantings who receive it gratefully.
In our part of Gardener’s Dom, though, many Wantings still laugh. You see, it’s been a while, but during the tendership of Charlatan and Montebank, the Wantings got an appetite for shipped-in produce. I hate that stuff, you know? Like Hoarders and Sharers, I used to think you couldn’t beat locally-grown produce. Love, joy, and peace? Nope, now the Wantings have facebook, Lady Gaga, and yoga.
Anyway, in a different part of King’s Dom, the Wantings haven’t heard of KneeChee, but they still don’t know the gardener. The Sharers in these parts feed the Wantings fruit. The Wantings actually gobble it in a positively medieval fashion. They eat the fruit. Gardener’s met so many Wantings there. Hundreds of thousands of them are being healed from Sin Cancer. There’s just so many antioxidants when you eat fruit. When the Sharers meet them, it’s really quite a sight. You and all the Hoarders should see it.
But you can’t see it. You can’t see past the all-you-can-eat beef buffet. You’re trying to glimpse the feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the Gospel of peace, but you haven’t been able to bend over your waistline in years. You want to go back for seconds, but they charge for refills. And there isn’t room on your plate for grace. “I don’t eat fruit anymore.” And the Sharers gasp. You’re sitting there, trying to figure out who you are. A Hoarder or a Sharer or a Charletan or a Wanting, and you don’t even know that you’re going to sleep eating Peanut Butter Panic ice cream til you’re comatose.