Plea for Help

Please, wherever you are…wherever you’re reading this from…hill, dale, valley, hummock, or plain. Mountain or Shield, midland or coast…please…

Send Aslan.

Our country has been locked in the frigid grip of the White Queen for …well, it seems like ages now. My own children were much younger the last time they could play outside barefoot with the warm sun on their shining faces. I can’t remember the last time I saw green in the out-of-doors. Even the conifers are looking weary.

In fact, on the way home the other day, I chanced to glance upward, where I’d heard a certain commotion in the branches above. There sat a nervous squirrel, having just leapt from the topmost branches in a tree to the top of our roof. It paused and glanced at me in an accusing manner, as if I personally had ensured the ice would jam up in the eaves and flow up over the edge of the roof so he couldn’t get at the tender seeds that had fallen in to the eaves last fall. Then he pitched his wee eyebrows and fixed me with a pleading look. “Why?” His little brown eyes beseeched me. “Why have the two-foots not called forth the sun? Why must you torture me so? And, have you any nutmeats about your person?”

I shook my head sadly. “I’m sorry, Scuirus Niger; the truth is, had I my own druthers, the sun would have melted this ice and snow weeks ago. And no, I have no nutmeats on my person. I shall put some out for you, though.”

“Oh,” the squirrel seemed to meekly say, “Oh. I see. Well. If you wouldn’t mind so much turning up the heat a wee bit in your home. It warms my tiny paws. I…I have to run…” And off it bounded, sad and teary-eyed, for its winter dray.

Today it’s snowing like it’s the third of December, and while I know you’re Very Tired of hearing about the weather, and while it’s Very Beautiful and we need the moisture, um. I sure miss summer….

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

16 Comments

  1. Yeah, but then wouldn’t I have to have a bunch of teeth pulled and patches of my hair cut out? And don’t they serve Oppossum Burgers in Arkansas? And make their boots out of the hides of the dogs of town mayors?

  2. The teeth pulling and hair cutting are only required if you want to look the part, and you’ve never struck me as particularly conformist.Boots are often made of animal hides, but no self respecting southerner would skin their beloved huntin’ dog for a pair. As for the town mayors, from what I understand, the leather you typically get from their hides isn’t particularly rugged.Also, Oppossum are usually too stringy to be worth eating. Nutria, on the other hand…

  3. The way you put that in quotes like that, are you really suggesting some “Afternoon Delight”?Makes me wonder what they do in the afternoons in Turkey.

  4. Isn’t “Afternoon Delight” some kind of sexual encounter with Wolverine?I’m pretty sure that’s what Afternoon Delight is. If so, I’ll have some of that as well, thank you.

  5. Hmmm. I’m nice and warm now. I saw this confused looking lion wandering around in the snow so I shot him and made a coat.C.

  6. I found this crazy knife being carted off by a bunch of drunk mice. Maybe I can carve you a *new* table out of those trees over there. Hey. Did you notice those trees before?

  7. Dammit! I spent years looking for a nice, stone table to put in my yard. Now it’s all cracked and stuff. Thanks a lot.

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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