
Author: bibbleskit
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Freeloading
I want to redo this one but with that guitar attack meme.
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Meteor – Chapter 7
Malady
This is a work in progress. Names, events, titles, etc. are subject to change
Rook slowly wandered the great halls of the new Ledan university.
As much as he’d prefer to be with Stella, she was busy giving one of her lectures. Today’s talk isn’t about kindling (much to the dismay of the students) but, rather, life studies. An intriguing topic to Rook, but the attention he gets from other people make him nervous. Sitting in on the class was not an option. Whether they’re in awe of him or disgusted, Rook would rather not interact with any of them. Birds, fish, trees, simpler creatures tend to make him feel more relaxed. The poking and prodding of the intelligent ones make him want to hide in Stella’s coat.
He turned a corner into the accolade hall.
Not that he can actually fit in her coat, anymore. Early on, Rook grew irritated by his lack of reach and general ability to travel on his own. He didn’t want to be a burden to Stella and have her carry him everywhere, but he also didn’t like the idea of not being carried…
He looked up at the portraits of the nobles on the wall and studied the wrinkles on their faces.
Rook quickly figured out he could simply add more clay to his body to increase its size. He periodically added more clay and sculpted his shape until he felt he was big enough. He tried his best to keep the original face Stella gave him as best he could.
The magic by which he is conscious and animated is yet to become science, but Stella said she’s close to figuring it out. The same as she’s said for the past year. She also told him she’d like to celebrate his “birthday,” but she doesn’t really know how. When asked what he wanted for his birthday, Rook stared at her blankly. The same as he’s done when she asks him most things.
She had offered to try kindling him, but it was a strange and uncertain process. Nothing inorganic had been kindled before. Stella gasped and stopped just before the kindling completed. Rook recalls being disappointed, thinking he could be more useful to her if he could be more like her. But she explained to him that, without a soul, it would burn him up slowly until there was nothing left. She couldn’t lose him. He was satisfied with that.
He thought about her face. Her soft features and warm skin. Her cheeks would make happy shapes, but her eyes would betray the facade. Rook was never deceived.
He thought about the games she taught him. How she’d laugh when he’d won. He thought about the things they’d make together. How she’d get lost in the moment. He thought about all the nights she’d spend awake, rambling about her past, her lonliness. How she’d cry until she fell asleep. He thought about how little he understood. He wished he could do something, anything, to help her. She said just talking to him helped, but it never stopped her from crying.
Rook, satisfied he’s absorbed as much as he could from the hallway paintings, opened the library door and made slow deliberate steps inside. He made sure to close the door behind him. The room was filled with rows and rows of shelves, each heavy with as much knowledge as could possibly be gathered. It grows every day as the people of the world materialize their thoughts, feelings, struggles, and hopes into words.
Many of the books here were donated or written by Stella, herself. These were the ones Rook sought out, hoping to feel closer to her as they were apart. He made a straight line to a shelf in the middle of the bright, echoey room. A neat pile of books he set aside for himself last time he was here sat safely, waiting for him. He struggled to lug the pile of books to the nearest table. Rook begins to think it’s time he added more clay again.
What’ll he learn about Stella today?
Hours pass. The sun has long since set. The pile of books he started with is looking a bit smaller. If anyone asked him, and if he’d respond, he’d say, “Yes, I did read all of these books, cover to cover.” But no one would ask. And Rook couldn’t respond. And he mostly skimmed them, anyway.
A resounding clunk interrupts Rooks flow. Mildly annoyed, he gets up and walks toward the sound. He hears footsteps and muffled speech, “..lla will cause..” Around the corner of a bookshelf he sees a couple well dressed people with fancy hats conversing all hush hush. Rook, curious little thing, decides to sneak closer and listen. He’s gotten pretty good at staying silent and out of sight.
“You’re certain no one is here, Sirius?” said the older looking one of the two. Rook recognizes him as the “archbishop.” He always seemed nice but spoke as if every word was carefully chosen. Rook tries to remember his name. He recalls it to be… Betel?
“There’s no need to be so paranoid. This library is off limits at this time, except to a select few. Miss Stella is being occupied by Sir Matar as we speak, so we are safe.” This Sirius is an unimportant man of status. Unimportant because Rook doesn’t believe that the circumstances of one’s birth determines who you are.
“That witch needs to be dealt with,” Sirius spat. “What is taking so long? God is furious.” Rook felt his chest tighten. He knew what “witch” meant.
Sirius hushes the old man, “Sh sh sh. No one’s here but the walls aren’t made of iron, Your Grace.” Betel grumbles. “Miss Stella-“
“She’s a witch,” Betel interrupted.
“Fine, Your Grace.” Sirius clears his throat. “We can’t do anything about her yet. There’s still so much we need to learn from her.” Rook strains to listen closer. “We still don’t know how that repulsive creature was made. That duckling that follows her everywhere.”
“Well, hurry. We can’t very well use that knowledge while she’s around. She would never allow it,” Betel growls.
Rook begins to feel something he’s never felt before. He’s read all about emotions but it’s completely different than actually feel them. He is overwhelmed. He is angry.
He is afraid.
What are they going to do to his Stella?
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Meteor – Chapter 6
Grounds
This is a work in progress. Names, events, titles, etc. are subject to change
pooooff…. SLICE. “AHHHHHHHHHHH fuuuuuccc-“
Ow my FUCKING arm. Definitely broken. Some of it missing. I roll, dodging another attack from this stupid golem. It hurts to do so, but Rigel’s toy has been relentless today. To be quick frank, I am sick of training. I’m tired, I’m beaten, I’m battered. I want to sleep for a week.
CRASH
Barely got out of the way. Rigel’s doing this on purpose. Two days ago, the golem was pulling its punches. He thinks this is going to teach me to focus and keep my mind clear. He clearly doesn’t know me that well. My mind is racing and I want to punch him. I should have healed my arm already but I’m wasting time being spiteful. With that realization, perhaps he’s right. Perhaps this will get me to focus-
AHGgdgdfjk. A rock to the chest. Nothing broken AHGhjrrggkk. Another cough rock to the chest. Definitely something broken. Gotta keep moving.
BOOM bang. pik pik pik pik
Fuck this thing. It didn’t used to throw rocks. I’d like to say it has a sense of humor, but Rigel said the golems are like puppets and– wait, back on track. My arm. I need to fix it. I hate healing I hate healing I hate healing. It would be easier if Rigel could just EXPLAIN to me, properly, what it is I’m actually doing. He does everything by feeling, naturally. Lux just like feel the muscle and think about how its supposed to be and put some energy into it. Lux just remember what it feels like for blood to be flowing. Lux just imagine a twig breaking, but in reverse. ??????????
I dodge the next attack, throw a large sweeping rope of fire across the ground, tripping the golem. Deep deep breath, long exhale. I keep my eyes on my opponent and place my hand on my crunchy, squashed arm. A few seconds go by and I can start to feel the relief. The bones start to reattach (painful) and the muscles sew themselves back together. It’s not perfect, but I’ll fix it up better when I’m not in immediate danger.
The golem keeps at it, but I think I’ve calmed down. My thoughts are clearer. Time to take this thing down. I bring up a dirt pillar to block an incoming boulder, sprint around behind it, and slice at the joint where it’s leg connects. I use a thin blade of air to sever the connection. The golem falls over to one side, failing to catch itself. It crumbles down on one arm, effectively removing it. Before I can crush the thing into dust, I hear a whispy voice:
“…lux…”
I’m taken completely by surprise. Was that Castor?! It’s been like a month. I grab the ansible on my neck and yell back into it, “CAS? IS THAT YOU?”
A pebble shoots by my face, nicking my cheek, nearly taking out an eye. Rigel. The golem. Fuck. I look up and, covering my vision, is another rock. I attempt to dodge but take a slight blow to the head, still. Dazed, I yell out, “Cas!! Answer me! Can you hear me?”
I quickly heal away the pain on the side of my head and run. Rigel won’t let me die but he’ll let me fall unconscious. Can’t afford that right now. Finally, I hear it, “Lux. It’s Cas. I’m here…”
Without hesitation, I yell back, “CALL IT OFF. RIGEL.”
crash crash
The golem is still trying to kill me. “STOP THE GOLEM, STOP IT NOW,” I yell again. I’m running to him. The golem crumbles. He yells back.
“What’s up? Tired already?”
It’s finally time. Maybe we’ll get some answers. “I HEARD HER. I HEARD CAS.”
I call for her again, talking into the ansible as I regroup with the siblings. There’s no reply.
We’re all standing around the table upstairs. The ansible sitting in the middle of it. It’s so quiet, like none of us dare breathe in case we miss any noise.
Rigel, of course, breaks the silence, “Say something! Call her again!” Meissa and I stare at him. We’re all sweating just a little, it seems. I guess I’ll try again.
“Castor,” I say calmly. “Are you there? Can you hear me?” Everyone and everything is dead silent. So much so that I’m starting to wonder if I even just said the words out loud or if it was all in my head.
“Lux, you’re there.” Finally, some noise. And from Castor! The recognizable ethereal voice of the goddess who dumped me here.
“Holy shit, she’s real,” Rigel says under his breath. Meissa’s eyes are wide as she nods in agreement.
“Cas, where have you been?! You basically stranded me on an alien planet-“
Castor cuts me off, “Shhhhhush stop silence please.” She sighs. “I’m still very tired. Yes, you were sent far far away. Ha. That took a LOT out of me. And, need I remind you, I had to do it twice.” As if that was my fault. Rigel chuckles. Meissa hits his arm but is obviously stifling her own laughter. They’re a pair, aren’t they.
“Cas,” I say delicately. “I have a lot of questions. Are you actually a god? Why are you so tired? What do you want me to do? Why can’t I remember things?? What are these fucking headaches?! Who am I su-“
“Stop. Talking,” her voice is commanding. It’s almost as time itself stopped at her word, only resuming when it realized she was talking to me.
She sighs again, “I’ll answer anything I can. I’m not in a great mood. Not much of a morning person.” It’s dusk. She continues, “I used to be THE god…” There’s a short silence. “I’ve told you before, the effects of mortals kindling themselves has caused a less than favorable shift in the power dynamic of the universe… Things are…” Castor yawns, ending with a high pitched squeak. Cute. Aaaaahggggggg. Headache starting again. She sleepily finishes her sentence, “Things are not as they should be.”
Rigel clears his throat and speaks up, “I have no clue who you are, lady. I’ve never heard of a ‘god’ named Castor. Why should we believe what you’re saying?” Oh no.
I keep my mouth shut. There’s a long pause. Cas finally breaks the silence, “Pardon my Geminian, but who the fuck are you?“
Rigel begins to open his mouth to answer but, before a full word escapes his mouth, a shadowy tangle of pitch black strands pour from the ansible. They form a dark set of claws that sink deep into the skull and neck of my new friend. It all happened so quickly, I had no idea what was going on or what to think before he dropped like a brick to the ground. The claw evaporated as Rigel convulsed on the ground for a bit. Meissa moved quicker than me to see if he’s okay. I kind of… froze.
In what looks like an extreme state of fear, he scuffled himself over to the nearest corner of the room and hugged his knees. He’s shivering, eyes wide, muttering. Meissa sits with him, trying to comfort him.
I finally collect myself. “CAS WHAT THE HELL? What did you do to him??” She ignores the question and just giggles to herself. “Cas?!”
“He’ll be fiiiiineee. I didn’t do any damage, I just spooked him.” She laughs some more, like she just heard the funniest joke. This is upsetting.
“Castor, I don’t care who or what you are. That behavior is NOT okay.” This false bravery feels like all I can do to apologize to Rigel.
She sighs yet again, “Soo much disrespect, so early in the morning. I should just go back to sleep. You know, people used to LOVE me. RESPECT me. FEAR me, even. It’s been a long time since then…”
A muffled voice comes from the corner of the room, “…I’ve still never heard of you…”
Once more, the tendrils pour out of the tiny rock. This time, I put up a barrier between Rigel and the ansible. It shatters instantly, the claws moving as if they were never impeded in the first place and pierce themselves through Rigel’s head. Again, he drops to the ground and becomes a convulsing mess.
“CAS.”
“FINE. Fine. Fine fine fine. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again Mr Hero,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Well, that’s better than her attacking me, too. Even though she’s on the verge of unconsciousness, I’m afriad we’re no more than ants to her. Why don’t I just bring the ansible around everywhere and let her do the work? “You had questions, Lux?”
I swallow and try to regain some composure. “Yeah, a lot.”
“You can’t remember your past because I don’t want you to.” What? “And your headaches act as a punishment for you trying too hard.” What. the. fuck?
“Cas what the hell? Why would you do this to me? What have you-” The headache. It’s unbearable now.
The goddess says almost monotonously, “I’ll give you everything you want and more if you just save Gemini.”
Meissa speaks up meekly, “Uhm, Miss Castor, your godliness.”
Castor happily responds, “How polite! Hello, cutie. How can I help you?” Urgh, my head.
“Uh, Miss Castor, how exactly is Lux supposed to do that? Respectfully,” Meissa says. I’m glad she can read a room better than Rigel. It’s been a day.
I can hear the smile in Cas’ voice. “Oh, that’s easy. He just has to kill King. And every other kindled.”
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Meteor – Chapter 5
Sanctuary
This is a work in progress. Names, events, titles, etc. are subject to change
It’s been quite an interesting time.
Blam.
How long has it been now…. 3 weeks? A month? I was never good at telling time.
Crunch. Crash. The sound of rocks smashing together.
It’s nice to just sit here and watch him, though. Kinda crazy seeing all the progress Lux has made since he got here. Feels like just yesterday he was struggling to control his energy output. I’ve had to close up too many holes around here.
Wooosshh BLAM. More rocks exploding.
But now look at him. He’s got a pretty iron will. I’ve been supervising his training; watching him practice day in and day out making sure he doesn’t do anything too reckless. Even though he’s basically a prodigy, he’s still inexperienced.
BANG bang.
There’s no doubt about it, he’s going to surpass me eventually. Perhaps sooner than I think. I like being the coolest guy in the village but he’s grabbed a lot of attention. Despite my warnings…
CrruNCH.
Yeah, he’s still learning. But more than just about his kindling. He’s almost completely ignorant of the goings on here. The socio-political climate, the natural environment, history. I believed him from the start, but it’s still weird to believe that he isn’t from Gemini.
Crack BAM.
What makes it harder is the fact that he isn’t completely ignorant. Just almost. Sometimes, Meissa or I will say something about the world and he gives us a face of almost… nostalgia. When pressed, he doesn’t really answer. Or he complains that his head hurts. Always with the headaches. The thing is, I don’t think he’s a bad guy. I don’t think he’s trying to hide anything from us.
kaaaaaBOOM.
I just worry he’s a pawn in something bigger. I mean, he is based on his story. A goddess resurrected him and told him to basically become a hero… That’s super sketchy to me, man. I worry about the guy and the more I’ve come to know him the more I worry. He’s a gentle soul. Perhaps a little too wound up, but gentle. I don’t know why he’s working so hard to improve for this… deity. I don’t really trust her. Why does he?
ping ping ping ping SRRRKKKK.
He doesn’t seem to know. Or at least he won’t tell us. Or he’s being forced into silence. Those damn headaches. What did she do to him?
pooooff…. SLICE. “AHHHHHHHHHHH fuuuuuccc-“
Oop. There goes his arm. I mark another notch on the board for the golem. Lux had the hardest time figuring out healing, but he’s shown some improvement. He glances at me almost as if trying to tell me to pause the exercise. I shrug.
CRASH.
Oh, good. He dodged. Better hurry up and heal, man. I take a sip of my tea. I see the familiar green aura around his arm. Good as new. He took a few rocks to the chest in the meantime, though. Honestly, it scares me how good he is. This is only a couple levels lower than I train. Perhaps I’m just that good a teacher, hahaha. What was I thinking about…?
Oh yeah, his headaches. I’ve told him before that I’d like to try to poke around in his head and see what’s causing it. He was enthusiastic about that. But then I told him I’ve only ever tried it on small animals and they all died in the process. Hmm. I sip more tea. He wasn’t happy about that.
BOOM bang. pik pik pik pik
Meissa tries her best with him too. They get along really well. Almost too well. Hm. Not like I’m being protective of my sister. I think maybe I’m just jealous, haha. He IS cute, too.
“Rigel, what’s going on? Is Lux okay?” I hear Meissa frantically asking as she pitter patters down the stairs into our warded little training room. “I heard a scream.”
I scratch my head and turn around to look at her. “Mei, you’ve heard Lux scream a thousand times by now. Are you not desensitized yet?”
She scowls at me, “Are YOU? I will continue to worry anytime anyone screams.” She takes the chair next to me, takes my tea cup, and downs the whole thing in one go.
“There’s no alcohol in that, sis,” I say.
“I know,” she replies. She sighs and relaxes. She’s not really mad at me. I know she just likes to mess around. “I’m not actually mad at you, Rigel.”
I laugh. “I know, Mei.” We watch as Lux continues to fight the golem. He should be tired by now. Maybe I should call it a day.
“How’s he doing?” she says quietly while leaning in, like she doesn’t want to interrupt the show.
I take a sip from my empty tea cup, “Good. Still not where he wants to be, but this is the first time he’s been completely on his own. He fixed his arm mid-combat.”
She sits back and mmm’s in understanding. “Hey Mei-“
“CALL IT OFF. RIGEL,” Lux yells.
crash crash.
“STOP THE GOLEM, STOP IT NOW”
I sit upright and wave. The golem falls into a pile of rocks. I yell back, “What’s up? Tired already?”
“I HEARD HER. I HEARD CAS.”
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Meteor – Chapter 4
Amity
This is a work in progress. Names, events, titles, etc. are subject to change
“Professor?”
Why can’t I figure it out?
“Excuse me uhm, Professor?”
What’s missing? There’s got to be something I’m missing.
“Excuse me, Professor?” A loud voice.
I’m shocked by the sudden voice behind me. My heart is racing and my train of thought is starting to get away from me. I lament that it will take me forever to get back to where I was, but that’s thrust aside by the sudden wave of anxiety rushing over me. Attempting to collect myself, I turn around in my chair and greet them.
I take a breath and stutter, “Y-yes, hello! I’m so so sorry I didn’t respond earlier!” I notice it’s that noble, Matar. It’s strange to be called “professor” by someone of status. Ahem. “Please, Sir Matar, I’ve said before: just call me Stella.” I’m still a bit frazzled but I force a smile. He’s holding one of the statues I handed out during my lecture earlier today. It’s broken. I’m not surprised; it’s a difficult topic.
He speaks up, “Pro- uhm, I mean Stella.” He clears his throat now, his face is a little red. Maybe I’m making things harder for people and should just let them call me what they want. Matar shuffles a bit before replying to me, “I’m also just your student here. Call me Mat. What is it you’re working on?” He nods toward the clay figure on my desk. I turn around and look at it. Ah, that’s right, I was busy. I pick up the figure and fiddle with the square protrusions I molded on the head. I kind of made it look like a chess piece with arms, legs, and eyes, haha.
I remember he asked me a question and start to answer, “For a long long time, I’ve been trying to give life to something. I’ve tried many different materials, shapes, objects, anim- uhm.” I think maybe I shouldn’t say that. I continue, “Nothing has worked. Well, nothing has stayed working…” I play with the arms on the clay figure. “They either stop moving after a short time or have no will of their own. So they just turn back into the lifeless matter they were before.” My face starts to hurt a little bit. Moving on, I point at his broken statue, “But, what is it I can help you with, Matar?”
He clumsily shows me the broken pieces of the statue and say, “I can’t seem to do what you showed us in the lecture. I just end up breaking it.” I take the pieces from him.
I smile a bit at the mess he gave me. The pieces begin to float between my hands. They slowly come together, the seams and edges smooth away as it becomes whole again. I have the statue do a little dance and softly tell him, “I wouldn’t worry that much. Remember, it took me decades before I was able to move matter around like this. You need to understand the fundamental elements of the world before you can start to manipulate it.” The statue is doing a small cheer. “At least, I had to understand all that. For you, the easiest way to think about it is to imagine that it’s not an unmoving statue.” Maybe that’s not right. I clarify, “Rather, realize that everything is made of the same things, so why couldn’t a statue flow like water?” The statue crumbles then splashes on my hands. Matar isn’t saying anything. He’s just kind of staring directly at my eyes. I avert my own eyes and quickly reform the statue. My heart can’t take the thought of whatever judgements are going through his head.
He finally speaks, saying, “But miss Stella, I know a stone statue can’t move like water specifically because I know its elements and properties.” He looks confused. I know this is a hard topic. Matar speaks again, “It’s just… difficult to imagine.”
That really is the roadblock. The benefits of experience are a burden on the imagination. I hand the statue back to him, “You’ll get it, I know it. You just need to let go a bit. I’ve noticed children have a much easier time with this lesson. Let your mind free, I know you can do it, Mat.” I try to reassure him with a smile. His face gets redder. What am I doing wrong? I turn back toward my desk.
Matar thanks me and walks out the door. I wave my hand above my head to say goodbye.
There are so many people in my life now. It’s really weird. I’m not used to people looking up to me. I’m honestly very uncomfortable, but it’s also really nice. People like Matar do make me feel welcome and important. They make me feel like I’m wanted here. Still, I have no idea what I’m doing or saying sometimes. People’s reactions are also hard to decipher, too.
I guess it’s not really my fault, though. I spent a long time completely alone. No one to greet me in the morning. No one to share my feelings with. No one was there when I fell or got hurt. That will mess a person up. If only I wasn’t alone.
Maybe it was my fault. People were scared of me. I was the girl without parents. That was weird. I had no manners. It was better if I just stayed away from people. I was alone.
It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been around. I shouldn’t be here.
It’s my fault. I should be alone. No one wants me here.
I should be alone.
I should-
A sudden tapping on my arm scares the life out of me. I shriek a little as I notice the clay figure I had been using for research was tapping me. Reflexively, I hit it away from me. When I noticed what I had done, my heart sank. I can’t believe I just did that. The little guy starts to pick himself up.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
I carefully lift it up to its feet. The figure seems to be okay and doesn’t look mad or hurt. I smooth out a few of it’s edges and brush it off. I ask it if it understands me. It just stares at me, its empty eyes unblinking. I try some more questions. No reactions.
I put up my right index finger and tap it with my left index finger. Then, I slowly move my right finger close to it and wait. A few moments go by, it stares at my hand, then puts its little arm against the tip of my finger.
Excitement. Elation. Confusion. My head is a maelstrom of emotions right now. I’ve done it. I don’t know how, but there’s a living creature in front of me that can make decisions and communicate. My entire being wants to scream. Decades of failure and now this.
Coming back down to Gemini, I realize the clay toy I made is staring at me again. I lean down, my face getting close to its face. “I guess I need to name you now, huh?” No response, of course. “How about Rook?”
-
Mr. Squirrel and Mr. Woodpecker
This this is the result of a “word bank challenge” my wife and I sometimes do. Within a time limit, we write a story using randomly chosen words.
Word Bank:
exclusive stubborn survivor stab reader mislead grow hate possible breakBOK BOK BOK BOK BOK BOK BOK BOK BOK
Mr. Squirrel pokes his head out of the hole in his tree, the constant “bok”ing against the walls of his house was rattling his brain. “What the hell are you doing, man? Can’t you see this is someone’s home?” Mr. Squirrel squeaked over the rhythmic clunking against his walls.
Mr. Woodpecker stops his boking sharply and turns toward the angry rodent, taken aback. “Squirrels can talk?” The bird looks at the tree rat sideways curiously.
“Uh, you talk too. Would you leave my house alone? Do you have to stab it? And so violently?” Mr. Squirrel asks politely.
Mr. W looks Mr. S up and down, examining this apparently strange creature. “Your house? I don’t suppose you have furniture and pets, too? Ha, ha.” Mr. W stretches his neck a bit before returning back to his previous activity. BOK BOK BOK BOK BOK BOK BOK BOK BOK…
Mr. S is dumbfounded. How is it possible to be so rude? He raises his voice at the feathered nuisance once again, “Hey! Stop! You’re going to break my house! I’m going to have you pay for that if you don’t quit it now!”
Mr. W stops and does that laugh that’s just an exhale from your nose. The bird turns to the squirrel and squawks, “Pay? For what? It’s a tree; it’ll grow back. What’s a squirrel doing with a mortgage? This whole thing is preposterous. I must hit the tree, it’s how I find food. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“There are no termites or ants or whatever you eat to find here. As you’ve clearly heard me say, I live here. The tree is mostly hollow and I have exterminators keep the place vermin free. You’re better off with a completely different tree. Why be so stubborn?” Mr. S pleads.
The beaked power tool thinks silently upon the words of the squirrel. Surely, he’s right. There’s no reason to look for bugs in this tree. After some reflection, Mr. W speaks up. “You’re right. I’d hate to cause you further trouble. To be perfectly honest, I was kinda spooked to be yelled at by a squirrel. I didn’t really wanna process that so I just kept pecking. I’ll be on my way then, and sorry about your wall.” The bird nods and then releases the tree.
Mr. S watches the woodpecker flap away and lets out a sigh while a spider slowly crawls down a thread. He says relieved, “I’m glad that’s over.”
“Me too, that guy was annoying!”
Mr. S jumps at the sound of the spider. “Holy shit, spiders can talk?”