then what happens?

after finally feeling okay with bidding prose farewell in order to pour everything into poetic stanzas, what happens but a thing intended to be a tale in verse really ends up reading best in prose. Funny how that works.

___________

Critter Lefty’s carriage beamed an infectious jauntiness as he walked the broken walkway, so one looking from afar or not so afar but near as the uncultivated brambles that were making decent inroads over the walkway, might believe Lefty owned or believed he owned all of a realm that mattered. The exuberant glow about Lefty as he moseyed with his spruced up tufted head set in a strong dreamy assuredness between his sleek brown shoulders, which he kept well-toned with frequent clambers up and down trees and loping over streams and hauling nuts the old-fashioned way, well, anyway, Lefty’s airborne way of travel had a direct relation to his destination which was a moss-covered log about five critter minutes away, because inside  that moss-covered log lived a sexy-hot she-skunk Lefty became intimately acquainted with a few critter-weeks prior and she was free this night and the next day and invited him to spend that time with her in her cozy, moss-covered log. So Lefty scuttled whatever loose plans he’d had for the express purpose of hooking up with his sexy-hot she-skunk; she’d really blown Lefty’s little critter mind – Lefty had never been with any other critter – this includes she-skunks, as Lefty did have a weakness for she-skunks, and he’d surely had his mind blown by plenty of sexy critters but this she-skunk blew Lefty’s little critter mind like no other she-critter ever did.

He had to figure this sexy-hot she-skunk’s ability to blow a little critter’s mind was due in big parts to the combo of her exquisite fur that gave her an outer layer of innocence but getting into her furriness, found she had one nasty little skunk mind that had no aversion whatsoever to getting mighty messy and she was also one kinky stinky skunk and the stink  this hot kinky she-skunk would leave on him – all of his little critter toes to the top of his tufted head, except it wasn’t such a tufted head by the time she was done blowing his mind, well, that stink of this sexy-hot she-skunk lingered well into the next three days and effectively yet effortlessly kept him on a stinky she-skunk high for almost as long as he had to wait until hearing she was free for a night and day and he could get himself traveling on that broken walkway, destination: his sexy-hot she-skunk’s moss-covered log, where he could forget another realm could possibly exist and only wish the she-skunk escapades could be what eternity meant. So getting the call, he went and got himself all spruced with a bath in a stream that ran near his home which was a hole in a fat old oak and rubbed acorn mash under his arms and he sailed excitedly out of his hole in the fat old oak and soon as he reached the ground he swaggered along the broken walkway under the aged mix of arched boughs of predominantly deciduous tree – which the opening sentence already stated.

Lefty’s basic appearance would suggest his lineage contained a rich variety, basic rodent being the clear dominant, in the way of the squirrel and the chipmunk, suggested by the egg-oval head and the large brown eyes. Lefty also had pouches in his cheeks, but Lefty’s cheeks were not the only place Lefty had a pouch and Lefty had more than one pouch, discounting his cheek pouches, these other pouches positioned along his flanks and he had larger, primary, general purpose pouch just above his waist; his tongue was also not the typical rodent tongue and tongue and pouches slid Lefty’s other parts heavily towards a marsupial suggestion.

What matters much more than Lefty’s critter lineage was Lefty’s headspace. Lefty’s headspace existed in an enviable or inspirational state in the sense he never bothered himself with what to call himself – true, he sometimes had to put effort into guiding an inquisitive critter into another subject if they’d ask if he didn’t have some koala in him, but in time he became proficient and he had so many other pleasures, he had his own incentive in learning to disassociate from critters entertaining whether or not a koala or perhaps a couple koalas, from long ago, had anything to do with the sort of critter skin Lefty ended up living in.

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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