Emergence of the Dish-Washer
The once great city of Eastwood was a place few in this world ventured into willingly. Rumoured to have once been a beautiful and coveted location, the city was now an alcove composed of despicable wasteland where only the very strong or subservient survived. Sadly, the category one fell into was a birth right dictated by gender.
It was a land known as the “Great Matriarchy” for much of the outer world. Men here were born for one purpose – to serve and obey. It had been conquered late in the Sixteenth century by a group of elite warriors known as Amazonian women of Lenka and their rule was absolute.
Every morning the men would wake, serve breakfast to the women and spend the remainder of their day doing chores. Cleaning, washing the dishes and cooking were just a few of their many daily tasks. They would go by the Morning Prayer.
“Hail to Women, the bringers of life
For a man isn’t a man, without a wife
Glory to the leaders of the human race,
Where women rule and men are a disgrace”
This prayer of sorts was ended by the men, on their knees uttering the phrase,
“Heaaahh…”
It was a sign as an almost subservient sigh of one accepting their fate.
Furthermore, the males of this matriarch society were confined to a purely vegetarian diet as meat was attributed as a source of evil and villainy when consumed by a man, fuelling his desire for violence and rebellion. It was a truly monstrous land.
This was the land that Prasadh Angada was born, and the legend of his emergence was spoken in hush whispers amongst the still enslaved men to this very day…
“Prasadh! Clean those dishes, and go out and wash my car!” yelled Mrs Angada, Prasadh’s mother.
“Prasadh! Go clean my room” yelled Ms Angada, Prasadh’s Sister.
“Heaahh…”sighed Prasadh, before resigning himself to his chores.
This was the only life Prasadh Angada had ever known. That of a chore-boy. But he always had big dreams. He carried with him a strong desire to one day escape the world of subservience – and away from the shadow of the matriarchy. Prasadh often tried to escape the drudgery of life by hiding in the nearby forests before he would receive threatening phone calls from all the women in his life. “Do this…Do that…” They’d all say.
“Heahh…” he’d reply.
One day – a man interrupted Prasadh’s solitude.
A wayward traveller was passing through the suburb and had avoided the watchful eye of the Amazonian women. He introduced himself to Prasadh as “Vamadeva” – the wandering maths tutor. He spoke of all the great cities he had seen and their unique cultures. Prasadh started to look to him as a father figure. Several weeks went by and Vamadeva would meet with Prasadh once a week to share a few new tales each time.
These stories made Prasadh’s chores go easier. The unreasonable commands seemed tolerable. Life seemed brighter for the young vegetarian.
Then arrived that fateful day. Preceding the daily Morning Prayer, there was an announcement from the City leaders. They had captured a male infidel who had been rumoured to have been spreading heresy and lies. Prasadh looked up worried to see his good friend on a crucifix, naked and still. The life had long since left him.
Prasadh was at his breaking point. Defiance was emerging from within. Despite his life-long vegetarianism, he felt anger surge from deep within. Stories of the outside world had gripped him. The wayward traveller who had done nothing wrong – and yet had now been executed by the cruel Woman he served. He rose to his feet, and ran into the woods where he often took refuge – an overt act of disobedience. He was followed by the strongest warrior women from his city. He would be punished severely…if he intended on going back or getting caught. Prasadh wanted freedom. Once he was in the safety of his forest, he dug around for his stashed escape bag for a rainy day or a day he longed for where he would achieve his dream to leave. It contained a few dozen carrots and a soccer ball. All the young man loved in life.
He reached within and grabbed a carrot.
“aaannnhhhh!!” He moaned, flinging the carrot in his hand with monstrous force. All those years washing cars, scrubbing toilets and above all else – Washing dishes had given Prasadh the forearm strength of a chronic masturbator. He had somehow ascended despite the vegetarian diet he was subject to from birth.
The carrot impaled the large woman closest to him who had tried to bend PC to her will. Suddenly they all swarmed in on him, the women could not stand for male rebellion. They were angry, but so was Prasadh. Prasadh started utilising the sweeping motion of washing dishes to throw wild right hooks. Nifty mini-jabs from how he scrubbed toilets. It was poetry in motion as the once broken vegetarian took down one women after another. He pulled out his old dish wiping towel from his pocket and wore it like a bandana. He was winning against all odds until she arrived.
His Sister emerged from the woods. Prasadh Angada had lived in her shadow his entire life. Done all her chores, all the while lamenting on not being born a woman. The whole nine yards. And here she stood – broomstick in hand, ready to dish out a beating to the young dish washer.
Prasadh took his stance. He ripped his shirt off. They stared into each other’s eyes, his sister ominously waving the broomstick. It was now or never…
He grabbed his bag full of carrots and a soccer ball; and ran off on a journey of self-discovery. He couldn’t face his sister.
“Heaahhhhhhh!!” he screamed as he ran like the wind. An act of cowardice scarring his previous displays of vengeance and strength.
Unaware of the warrior he would one day become…
The Future Fighting Champion of the World
Up Next: An Origin Story – Habaz Valentine and the Rise of TYG