So in a rocky expanse out in the center of North Korea, sandwiched between a bunch of reddish-brown, squat little mountains, there’s a valley called Yodok. To be honest, it’s strange that any history at all is happening in Yodok, because it’s kind of a worthless, barren, secluded ****hole, but here we are, in a sloping eastern field, with a bunch of short sallow people wearing this year’s rags, and a slightly taller sallow person wearing an olive coat, and also carrying a rifle. None of these people really want to be here. In his mind, it’s like, hey, I came to Yodok to protect the beating heart of Choson from counter-revolutionaries, and this is more, you know, shepherding nervous rats along a barren ridge that I also have to live on. In their mind it’s like, **** I am hungry, why am I here, must boil tree bark, etc.
So I mean, lots of Sick Fail to begin with, but the biggest, most Epic Fail really just pertains to one girl, who is probably a teen at this point. She honestly, like, on a contextual scale, compared to the people around her, doesn’t mind the boiled tree bark. Because of a rare genetic coincidence that, thanks to Yodok, is finally getting its day in the sun. Anyway, she’s here because her grandfather… the way I heard it is like, her grandfather was a manager at a cannery of some kind, something east over in Wonsan, which only by coincidence isn’t even all that far away, anyway the grandfather like most of the managers at most of the canneries kept a portion of the product for black market trades with a few of the other employees. Etc. etc. they get caught, he finds out, flees north then over the river Yalu, finds his way to a city and, no kidding, runs smack into a Chinese journalist. Some guys get all the luck. Gets whisked to the South Korean embassy and suddenly he’s news. Which brings us back to the girl in the camp on the field who doesn’t mind tree bark.
And, for the record, she doesn’t actually know this story. Which is sad, because it would probably give her something oddly concrete to focus on as she struggles through the day, some kind of context, but never mind. The taller person, or more accurately the person with the rifle, is ****** her regularly, most of the time where people can’t see. It’s not like her family is around or anything. Her dad is in the gypsum quarry out west and her mother is I dunno.
So more specifically it’s Fall, and it’s getting colder earlier just like it seems to do every Fall, but the idea of eating tree bark is as always not that discouraging, unlike the lump on her belly, which is really, really visible. Because, come on. A lump? On your belly?
So it’s the first day he’s been with her for a while, and so the moment he sees her all alone he grabs her from behind just like always, but this time she pulls out of his grasp, and tries to calmly walk away. Which is not the Big Fail which is promised by this story, don’t worry, but still, like, wow. What a Somewhat Big Fail in its own way. Where were you going, little girl? Going to just walk through the harsh mountains past all the guards and cross the deep black river hills to the east? You know there’s like, land mines all over the place, right? Epic Fail.
Okay so the guy with the rifle is only stunned for a moment, because she’s gotten to be pretty docile, but obviously this **** won’t fly and so he spins her around to slap the **** out of her and that’s when he sees. And it’s not like it’s the end of the world, you know, but it’s not good, and the way she’s looking at him is really, honestly, kind of deflating, like she already knows, like he already knows, and they do.
The bayonet tears through, and I think I’m getting this correctly, the outer and inner layers of the skin, fat and muscle, as well as the various connective tissues, etc. etc. until finally reaching the amniotic sac, which is really more of like a plastic bag. All in one vigorous jab.
And there is probably history’s Greatest Fail, suspended forever and ever in this one moment. Like, where’s your head at, little fetus? How did any of this sound like a solid plan? You weren’t going to make it through the winter with this sort of nutrition, that **** is positively basic. And if you had? Great, now for twenty eight plus or minus five on average years [given survival to six] of hauling gypsum and collectively expressing shame at how ineffectively you’ve been hauling gypsum.
You probably didn’t even have the gene that made tree bark slightly not as bad. And if you did, it didn’t matter. Epic, Epic Fail.