Forever and today in the far far west, there appeared a surly wide hedgehog of a
man. He was known far and wider for his heroic hair and predictable accomplishments.
A large breathy mound of them.
And humble? You couldn’t begin to. You could barely. But you could lavish praise
and he’d answer, “Yes, I have breathed some fortunate air.”
In those days there was always another small town hurting. And when the long day
tried invading the wound, the wound tried to cause a neighborhood. Times like this, he’d
often instigate a blowout in the dressing room, hitch up his saturated stinkpants and hero
the tall tale of his misfortune right on into a healthy glob of excessive sympathetic
A couple more invasions of privacy and the perspective ripens. Some tall fella
named “Fella” was seen deliberating delight out near the highway where the porch
mingles with the sagebrush. There’s those that say he fathered a couple of itinerant
Yes, the heroine’s here and already very married. Her husband, Mr. Apples, spiders
her silly adventure door with a hugely sprawling kiss. He used to limit that kind of
thinking to egg-shaped candles.
Finally, his desirable breasts arrived. Fortunately, they were not as big as hers and
they were able to stay together like twins.
Perhaps the real situation’s over already, but there’s always a party afterwards. Mr.
Apples knows that.
Eventually the affectionate dogs will be taught to stop chewing on the legs of our
trusted companions and some contemporary Tonto investigating the oil lease will
challenge them with timeless aphorisms and modern contractual exclusions.
You’ll have to decide when they leave. There’s always a pink baby-bottom
morning of promise and generous bird-food allowances laced with a rich enchanting
smell of diapers and burnt toast. Truth is it was one of the situations in which irony didn’t
count, and the hero had already been voted most likely to be serious.
Which made him funnier.
Which made him more serious.
Which made him remember where he’d been before he’d been there again.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.