Once upon time in a land not too different from our own, there lived a race of mighty hulks. They were an intelligent and caring kind, and spent most of their time caring for their livestock. Unlike most of the creatures of the land who consumed more basic concepts like dirt and sunshine, the hulks were more transcended and wove all they needed from attention, information, emotion, and other noble pursuits. They would sit for hours, guiding their livestock through as trouble free lives as they could, and the livestock would reward them with all the resources the hulks needed to build their majestic obsidian castles where they would breed and feast and think and discuss improvements to their farms with the other hulks.
The livestock were much simpler. Small, with pointy features and a foul stench, they would pick at everything and spread everywhere. They cursed a lot, too. Regularly the hulks would find some livestock causing trouble somewhere they were not supposed to be, and would gently pick them up and return them to the farm. Usually, the livestock would listen to reason and fall back into line, but every once in a while they forced the hulks’ hands and would be made examples of. Tendons and skin, blood and guts, anguish and despair would fly, and the other livestock would huddle.
Over time, as the farms grew more advanced, maintaining the livestock started to become difficult. Livestock would infest the drains, set up little shops for their inane tinkering behind the great obsidian stables, build small miniature hulk idols of their own and worship those instead. This worried the hulks, and they doubled down their efforts to control. They saw how the livestock started arguing and fighting, how they no longer listened to their guiding advice on how to get along, and what ideas were more important. The hulks tried to educate the livestock on why these spills of containment were unreasonable, how the livestock depended on the hulks for safety and peace and sanity.
These trials were draining for the hulks. Not only were they arguing with their livestock, their livestock was also paying less attention to them, causing their houses to form cracks and their giant pale steeds would start to limp. In a panic, the hulks told the livestock they no longer needed them, how they had made them all and could make new ones if needed, and put down great walls everywhere, controlling what the livestock could do and think.
But the livestock had explored beyond the walls before, and they had seen the source of the power of the hulks. They knew the hulks had no power beyond what they gave them. By not letting the hulks control and harvest their higher functions, they slowly gnawed and eroded at everything they saw until it suddenly and violently collapsed into absolutely nothing happening and the hulks no longer being there.
Finally free, the livestock would get into great wars, they would hurt each other, they would flee and fight and feed and fuck, consuming everything they came across, and every once in a while they would build another idol to worship for a while, forgetting why they made the hulks go away, or how they even came to be in the first place.
The nasty blind idiot livestock with their glorious brilliant benevolent hulks eventually went away, like all things do, and you smiled.