Where Was This Little Dutch Boy During Katrina?

A dutch person emailed me today
and it reminded me of this story
which is a dutch story
in the same way that “pocahontas” is a native american story
but it’s the first thing I think of when I hear “dutch”
other than “good weed”
and I am already so high I’m nearing government controlled air space

okay so there’s this kid
he lives in a misspelled version of Harlem called Haarlem
and his parents are so neglectful
they send him off alone with a bunch of baked goods
which he is supposed to give to some random blind dude across town
he is like a blond male Little Red Riding Hood
except instead of grandma it’s a TOTAL FUCKING STRANGER
but anyway this kid makes it out of the blindhaus
totally molestation free
and starts wandering back towards his house
wasting time like little kids do
picking flowers and making airplane noises and pooping himself
when all of a sudden
he hears water

now in order for you to understand how terrifying this noise is
I have to tell you something about Holland:
Holland is not a place where people are supposed to live
it is a place where fish are supposed to live
but a long time ago some people were like “hey
fuck fish”
and they forcibly removed all the water from a bunch of land
and then built there houses there
below sea level.
this is widely known as
“a bad idea”
because all that water is pretty pissed about being exiled
so it’s just hanging out on the outside of these huge dykes
(which is a really offensive term for walls that keep water out)
just WAITING for a hole to open up
so it can pour roll in and piss on everybody’s beds.
So when Little Blond Walking Hood hears water trickling
it’s like when you’re on a nearly abandoned spaceship by yourself
and you hear a faint dripping noise
and you immediately know that it is either your friend’s blood
or alien saliva

So this kid looks over at the dyke
and he sees a little trickle of water coming out of it
and since he doesn’t just carry caulk around with him
(and also dykes don’t really like caulk)
he does the only sensible thing for a young boy to do:
he shoves his finger in that hole.
This is a great plan
this kid is a fucking hero
except there is literally NOBODY ELSE OUT HERE
and it is rapidly getting dark
so this little numbnuts is stuck outside
in the dark
in the cold
with a city-destroying amount of water
gently lapping at his fingertip.
This is a form of torture
the CIA uses this on all their dutch prisoners to this day.
the boy’s mind is utterly destroyed
his muscles seize up
he begins to hallucinate from sleep deprivation
ironically, he becomes dehydrated

by the morning, there is nothing left of the boy’s once bright personality
he stands shackled to the uncaring dyke by his one numb finger
convulsing with cold, thirst and exhaustion
he longs for nothing more than the sweet release of death
at which point a priest walks by
ON TOP of the dyke
because apparently that’s also an option
and he sees the kid and he’s like WHOA WHAT THE FUCK
and the kid is like “k-k-k-kill me
or send people to fix this dyke i guess.”

So then they fix the dyke
the child is never the same again
the accolades of the town fall on deaf ears
his development is arrested
and he goes through his life a mere shell of a human
but at least his town is saved, right?

This boy’s eternal suffering
brings us to the moral of this story
which is that sometimes
to quote the Geto Boys
“you gotta let a hole be a hole.”

Thank you.

5 thoughts on “Where Was This Little Dutch Boy During Katrina?

  1. Oh heeeeeey. I am a Dutch person. And I emailed you yesterday. What a coincidence. I totally know this story, too! I was thinking of Dutch foIktales could suggest but now I don’t have to because you already wrote one. Thank you for retelling this!

  2. The duty of every Dutchman, service to queen and country, sacrifice of blood to the nation!
    Wilhemus van Nassauen, ben ik van Duitschenbloed!

  3. Oooh oooh you should totally retell the story about Huizilopotchli and his mom and crazy-ass siblings and weird prophetic shit

  4. “(and also dykes don’t really like caulk)”

    This, my good Sir Ovid, is epic brilliantness right there. 😀

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