Three Little Fools and the House That Never Stood

✦ The Story:

Once, not too long ago, there were three little fools.

Not the kind of fools you mock. These were kind fools—hopeful, creative, maybe a bit too optimistic. Armed with laptops, ambition, and unpaid rent notices, they tried to make it on their own terms.

They were freelancers.

Which mostly meant they lived between invoices and insomnia. But they had ideas. And more than that, they had each other. So, one rainy Tuesday, they decided:

“Let’s build something that belongs to us.”

Not an app. Not a brand. A cooperative.

A place where lonely creatives could gather, share resources, and breathe without algorithms watching.

The first little fool was a designer. He found an old warehouse and imagined a minimalist haven—clean lines, Helvetica logos, furniture made from repurposed wood.

“But,” he said proudly, “we’ll keep it sustainable.”

But the rent was in crypto. And the smart contract managing the space suddenly demanded triple the amount for violating "eco-compliance conditions." No appeals. Just a flashing message and a closed lock.

He cried. Then he went back to designing logos for mindfulness apps that no one opened twice.

The second little fool was a coder. He said:

“We’ll build our own ethical platform. No ads. No tracking. Open source. For us.”

He coded day and night, fueled by caffeine and hope. He even started believing it might work.

Until one day, he discovered his entire codebase had been scraped. A corporate crawler turned his work into a monthly plugin, sold at $49.99—with smoother UI and zero credit.

He stared at the screen, silent. Then reactivated his account on the same gig platform he once swore off.

The third little fool was a writer.

“We’ll tell our story,” he said. “Not as a business. As a myth.”

So he wrote. About the warehouse. About the code. About belief, betrayal, and the quiet theft of dignity.

He changed names. Added metaphors. Told it like a fable, soft at the edges. Called it:

“Three Little Fools and the House That Never Stood.”

A child once asked him,

“Who broke their dreams?”

He replied,

“The one you never see. But who takes everything.”

He published the story. And yes, someone took a cut.

But the story remained.

If anyone remembers it tomorrow—it will still be theirs.



✦ Moral:

You can lose a lease. You can lose your code.

But a story—if told right—can never be stolen.