Kamil had been cultivating freckles all his life. It was a respectable family-run business. His father, his grandfather, and his great grandfather before him had all been freckle growers of considerable renown. Their freckles were the pigmentiest of all freckles, and as such beyond compare.
Of course, the business had had its ups and downs throughout the years. They’d almost gone bankrupt in the Victorian era. The skinny, pale, society bitches had shown a preference for frills, power-cleavage and arsenic rather than healthy, non-GMO, organic freckles. But then freckles went gangbusters in the swinging sixties, and the advent of flower power and nude love-ins made everything better. Freckles staged an unexpected comeback.
The golden age of hippiedom returned hope and prosperity to Kamil’s family, and so they dared to buy extra hectares of arable lands. They began growing new varieties of freckles, the more popular ones being shaped like horseshoes, others that twinkled like newly pledged promises, and even more that could be removed and placed elsewhere on the body at will.
Soon, everyone who was anyone was lining up to buy freckles to adorn their bodies with. It got to a point where such luminaries as Mark Zuckerberg, Prince William, Ron Weasley and even Peppermint Patty were counted among Kamil’s most elite clientele. And although negotiations with Leonardo DiCaprio and Garfield regrettably fell through, the demand for freckles was so great that their loss was barely felt.
Of course, the word ‘fallow’ should also be remembered at this point. Growing freckles depletes the soil badly, and after every harvest it’s recommended that the land be left to rest for a period of at least twelve months. If this is not adhered to then instead of freckles only polka dots for panties will grow. But who wants to wear polka dots on the face? No one, that’s who! And that’s why Kamil failed to become a gazillionaire. Alas!