In a remote corner of the Grosbreuil compost heap stood an insidious monster known as 'the compost heap'.
With its layers of green and brown waste, it resembled a dilapidated tower of rotting vegetables and dead leaves at the height of the festival. Every time Laurent saw it, he felt like a mountaineer facing Everest: scared but determined.
Armed with his gardening boots, cap screwed on his head, Laurent advanced towards the stinking beast. He looked at the mountain of rubbish and shuddered: "Let's go, mate!" he murmured to himself, seeking courage from the depths of his being. He took a deep breath and began to climb.
The first few steps were relatively easy, despite a strong wind that could blow cows off their feet. He climbed the first layers of fallen leaves as if they were tidy steps. But soon he was confronted with slippery mouldy bananas and treacherous orange peels. He stumbled and rolled, finding himself buried up to his neck in a mountain of organic waste. "Why on earth did I undertake this?" he moaned, his eyes fixed on the ever-distant summit.
With fierce determination, Laurent continued his ascent, picking his way through sharp wooden bark and the remains of tough courgettes. He emitted strange grunts and exaggerated grimaces with each new piece of rubbish he had to overcome. The neighbours wondered if he was going mad.
But Laurent didn't give up. He climbed, he pulled himself up, he held on, and finally, after titanic efforts, he reached the top of the compost heap.
‘I've done it!’ he cried, his eyes shining with triumph. There he stood, the king of the putrid hill, victory!!!
Raising his arms to the sky, Laurent felt a strange pride come over him. He had conquered the compost heap, he had conquered the unconquered...
