He'd been told that he worked too much.
He guessed they were right. He did sort of work himself down to the bone, but if he didn't, what would they eat in the meantime? He didn't know. And, quite frankly, he was not too eager to find out. So everyday for nearly all hours, he'd trudge outside and begin tending to his plants.
So in a way, he did work too much.
Farmer had. . . neutral feelings towards the fact. He kind of regretted working a lot and not going out and socializing with the others, but he was also one of the main reasons they had fresh fruit and vegetables to eat. It was kind of half and half for him.
The only other Smurf who never seemed to be out and playing was Handy Smurf. Farmer supposed it was because he was always tinkering, always fixing and making and building in that workshop of his. In a way, he was just like him.
They both took time and pride in their work. They both shut themselves from the world to get the job done. They both helped others, though most of the time, they were influenced to. Hey, it's not his fault he and Chef ended up as vegetables for a couple of weeks. Well, maybe just a little, but they were all Chef's ideas, he just went along with it.
Handy could get a bit too excited about his inventions. Most of them went well. Some of them. . . Not so good. But he created them with the best interest to heart. He never really meant for them to go all kookoo and evil. At least, Farmer didn't think so. He really hoped Handy did not intend for them to attack them all. If he did mean for them to be all kookoo, he had a few choice words to trade with the handyman.
Overall, he was a great friend. He was nice and funny and was always there for everyone. Farmer didn't trust him to run the village, however.
The last time he left, the entire village was taken over by machines, which was not a good thing. Anything, and everything, wood was eaten and sawed away by the little termites they'd set loose on the machines. He'd lost the handles of many of his beloved tools. He still hasn't quite yet forgiven Handy for it yet, but he supposes he's close enough for it to count.
Maybe they could use some fresh air. They'd been working themselves to the ground and cooping themselves up from the others. Maybe he should take a break and go visit his cottage in the woods. Take care of the plants he'd left there.
Yeah, that sounded good. A bit too good. He might be on a break (or at least attempting to) but he grew the crops that the others ate. If he slacked off, who knows what would happen? Nothing good, that's for sure.
He didn't know what they'd do without Handy either. Everthing would go rather terribly wrong, he knew that much (although, it was dumb luck that everything went wrong anyways).
Anyways, he'd always wake up as early as possible to get work done. Plants don't exactly grow themselves. They kind of just droop and die. And that, quite certainly, was not a good thing.
He puffed and wiped his brow of sweat, gardening and watering and sowing. His hand kind of burned, and he would probably have blisters later, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to.
"Hey, Farmer!"
He glanced up briefly, wondering who was calling him.
The red pencil, if not the blue overalls and visor-lipped cap, was a dead giveaway.
"Howdy, Handy," he said, leaning on his pitchfork. He'd always had trouble reigning in his accent. He, nor did anyone else, really understood how he got it in the first place. "How're you doin'?"
The handyman chuckled. "Pretty good, if I do say so myself." He readjusted his cap. "Though I must say, crafters block really sucks."
He chuckled. "Ain't that the truth." Ha! As if he had an idea of what Handy was saying. If he had an idea, he'd try to make or do it. Whether it worked or didn't work was not his main concern. Although, that might not be what the handyman had been implying.
"How are you doing, Farmer?"
"Doin' mighty fine," he said, a smile curling the tips of his lips upwards.
There was something about them that just clicked, as if they were soulmates in the most platonic way. And he means 'platonic', mind you. Although, Miner takes the cake as the closest thing he'll ever come to a best friend.
"I'm sorry."
"Huh?" Okay, now the accent decides to take its leave. It's not like he could really control it, anyways. "For what?"
"For not listening to you." He rubbed the back of his head nervously. "If I had, you wouldn't have lost any of your tools and the village wouldn't have a wood-crisis."
Farmer snorted. "Like my equipment is the most important thing in the world to me."
Handy blinked. And blinked again. "But—"
"Eh, they were getting old and rusty, anyways."
Handy laughed. "Thanks, Farmer, for understanding," he said, and walked away, a kind of happy skip slipping into his steps.
The farmer watched him go. He would never understand what was going on in his, or any other Smurf's, head. They were too complex for his tastes.
The sun beat down in his back, reminding him of the work he still needed to do. He sighed and turned back. He'd let himself be distracted for a tad too long for his liking.
He shoveled and picked and pruned, making sure all of the plants were healthy and thriving. Rotten foods taste disgusting. He and the others had enough experience to say so.
He worked well into the afternoon. He would have skipped lunch, but Miner sort of dragged him. He figured if Miner didn't kill him, Chef would. It'd be an insult to his cooking. Or so he says. He'd always claimed he'd go back later and grab something, but his best friend insisted that he come eat with us, Farmer, or you'll have two angry Smurfs to deal with.
He's trying not to die today. Like, really. His job's much too important. He suspected even death wouldn't keep him from his duty. He'd rather work with Gargamel than give up his job.
Okay, but Miner wasn't so innocent. The guy holed himself up in his mine for hours. He never came out unless it was to eat. At least Farmer occasionally stopped and talked to a friend for a moment or two. Handy was a bit better, though. He actually took breaks (although Farmer took one at least once a month. Handy tool breaks more frequently).
He worked too much. He'd been told that one too many times for it to be a joke.
Just. . . Don't even ask why I wrote this I have no idea.
About Farmer and Miner being close friends, I think I wrote that in there because they both work with nature and I feel like they'd work themselves out so
Thanks for reading!
