Looking at the tractors and other machinery, my grandfather said “They don’t make ’em like they used to.”
Which, considering that the farming process used to involve human sacrifice into a volcano, I’d say is a good thing.
Especially when the human to be sacrificed would be me.
“Get a goat out of the pen,” he said.
I put a rope around a goat’s neck, and we climbed the side of the volcano.
“OH LORD PYRO!” shouted my grandfather. “ACCEPT OUR SACRIFICE TO BLESS THIS YEAR’S HARVEST.”
And I shoved my grandfather into the volcano.
Goats are expensive, you know.