“Stop doing that!” shouted Shirley, slapping her paw and sending the phone flying.
The blind woodchuck had just reposted a scary warning about Facebook sucking your soul out through the speaker that seemed legit to her, and she really wanted everyone else to know about it.
“It’s not true,” screamed her cousin. “You never check anything, and you keep spreading false information. Dragonflies are not descended from dragons; hoary marmots do not charge for sex!” Shirley stomped off, adding “idiot” under her breath.
The woodchuck retreated to her burrow, sulking. Shirley was always nagging her to get involved, but when she shared valuable information, she got yelled at. She had just read something about the zuckerbug turning into a poodle and her paw itched to share it with the web of connected tunnels, but she couldn’t find her phone.
Shirley poked her head upside down in the tunnel entrance and the phone dropped in with a thunk. “Sorry; didn’t mean to yell,” she mumbled. “I’m feeling very stressed right now. Will you help me make some signs for the big march this weekend?”
The woodchuck loved making posters. She was known for her bubble letters; her stubby taloned paws turned into nimble spider monkey fingers when she held a Sharpie. She shook her head no and turned her back on Shirley. She was still hurt from her cousin’s rant; also, she didn’t want to admit that yesterday she had left the tops off her markers and the lovely scent that had filled her burrow made her giggle for seventeen minutes and then pass out. Her precious tools were now as useless as dried pussy willows.
But Shirley knew her well, and she held out a package of fruit scented markers with only the strawberry one missing. “Found these behind a Staples,” she said slyly. She also had some broken-down Amazon boxes with an inside virgin surface just begging for a pithy saying.
The woodchuck knew her resistance was futile, even though they were supposed to be marching as the resistance. She had a flash of creative genius as she envisioned “Paws Off!”— huge bubble letters drawn with a strong boysenberry outline filled in with kiwi green.
She uncapped the yellow marker and inhaled; staying mad at Shirley was difficult while the aroma of chemically altered lemons filled the burrow. It was as if they were lying in an Italian orchard sipping a limoncello. She would use her persuasive bubble letter skills to save democracy.
Besides, she really wanted to talk to someone about those hoary marmots—she was sure they were prostitutes.
• • •
The blind woodchuck and Shirley are all in for the big “Hands Off” March this Saturday, April 5. During their vaguely hallucinogenic poster making session, they envisioned thousands of animals (and people) walking arm in arm in protest against what the weasel’s administration has done to this country. Fill the streets and take back the forests! Check this link to find a location near you—there are protests happening in every meadow and state.
Don’t forget your signs! Mine says “The Muskrat is a hoary marmot!”
theblindwoodchuck.com 