Moving to Freedom, .Org

Steddy Freddy

flamingo, by robert claypool, from wikipedia

The river doesn’t take many days off. It works harder some days and takes it easy others, and sometimes quits altogether. But it’s mostly steady.

I thought I’d go down to the river, but as I neared its gentle bank I started floating, drifting with the wind.

Mr. Bojangles danced below and I wooted, but he said I was being lazy, only imagining him while Neil sang him. He waved his hand and I tumbled end over end to the other side of the river and got caught in a tree.

I sat in the tree for a bit, listening to the birds, and had a chat with a squirrel. The squirrel’s name was Atkins and he asked me if I had been finding any good nuts lately. I said no. He suggested a nearby oak grove and beckoned me to come along. He waited impatiently as I slowly climbed down. Then to the grove, and he was right: So many good nuts. But I just laid on the grass, watching Atkins and another squirrel named Fletcher as they gathered acorns and occasionally shook one to check for suitability of purpose.

Presently I grew restless and made a small raft of fallen branches and discarded Pepsi bottles, returned to the river, and pushed off.

Soon I arrived at a riverside community of flamingos, who invited me over for lunch. They had sent for McDonald’s and said there would be plenty for me. Did I mind having McDonald’s, they asked, and I said no, that would be fine.

An otter asked if he could take my raft and I nodded. Please, be my guest.

I enjoyed the McDonald’s, but the flamingos and I agreed we felt some regret after. I stayed with them for many days, living on a variety of fast foods, until I joined a group of migrating bears on their way to Guyana.

I stayed with the bears for as long as they followed the river.

continued in part two

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