As an English teacher in the United States in 2017, it’s not often that I get to be a beautiful magical princess. Naturally, this happened when I went on a hike today. I’ve found that walking in the wilderness almost makes me forget that walking is exercise. The chaos of nature is a good distraction from my damp, gasping flesh-prison, so I like hiking. It was on this walk through the wilderness that royalty was thrust upon me. I may not have been ready for all the responsibility of princess-hood, but I like to think I rose to the occasion.
Now that I’ve transformed into a magical princess, I can finally say something usually reserved for acorns: a squirrel chose me. It was on the final mile of my jaunt through the woods. The birds were singing, distant children were laughing, a light sprinkle of rain had begun pecking the trail through the trees. And there was a baby squirrel, a creature that looked like it had been designed in a cuteness sweatshop by enslaved adorableness engineers. It had wide, wet eyes like drenched black bowling balls. Its head was comically bulbous and bobbed even when the tiny thing was still. Its feet were fuzzy and fully equipped with bite-sized claws. It looked, on the whole, as if a child had made a squirrel out of pipe cleaner after having only seen one in a picture book read to them by their parents, the kind of book in which the reader is obligated to “do the voices.”
This diminutive Disney sidekick chose me. I saw it darting across a fallen log. Then it was under a bush near me. Then it was on another fallen tree, inching closer. I tried to resist its allure. I said cruel things to this archetype of forest innocence. Things like “stop it” and “go away, you’re awful at being a squirrel,” and it was. Despite my warnings, this tiny furry friend persevered. I can only assume it has been through great adversity in its brief squirrel-life. Only a squirrel tempered by tragedy could have seen through my cold shell to the, admittedly, even colder inner shell, and then to the theoretically warm goop at my center. The squirrel, who I guess is my comically adorable sidekick, looked me in the eyes, and the world became a more innocent place.
No more will I be a cantankerous curmudgeon. This squirrel chose me because it saw potential. It looked beyond the permanent scowl, the early-onset frown lines, the low smoldering anger in my eyes, and it saw royalty. I will not disappoint my new princess peers, all of whom have communed with nature as a sign of their natural princess-ocity. The Snow Whites, the Mulans, the Moanas, and girl from Brave, I won’t let you down. And you, little squirrel, most of all, I will not disappoint you.
Alternatively, maybe the squirrel was just used to being fed by people on the trail, and it was begging for a peanut like a filthy, plague-addled, moron tree rat.
Fascinating, albeit a somewhat squirrelly, story. Nice details!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
My favorite line: “And there was a baby squirrel, a creature that looked like it had been designed in a cuteness sweatshop by enslaved adorableness engineers.”
LikeLike
Thanks! I had fun picturing that which makes me sound like a psychopath, but that’s just something I’ve got to accept about myself
LikeLiked by 1 person
I started laughing as soon as I saw the title thinking this should be epic. Or really bad. I was not disappointed, dear magical princess. You do magic with words and I couldn’t be more thankful for it. Also, the ending was so precious!
My favorite line: “[…] a creature that looked like it had been designed in a cuteness sweatshop by enslaved adorableness engineers”… This made me think you should be writing novels (unless you are already).
LikeLike
I’m proud of those realistic expectations: I usually think along the same lines that my stuff will be epic or just awful.
I wrote one draft of a novel that will never see the light of day, and I used to write long things that require sustained effort a lot more, but it has been a while. I might have to pick it up again
LikeLike
I hope you do because you’d make a wonderful novelist (not that I’m an authority when it comes to judging writing novels).
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! I’ll get back into it eventually. I’m thinking of posting bits of a longer piece here one day
LikeLike
That would be lovely. You have at least one reader here waiting impatiently 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well gee, now I’m obligated to give it a go. I’ll try posting something… sometime in the future
LikeLike
Obligated? I prefer the term “stimulated” 😛
LikeLike
That has a note of optimism to it that I always forget to feel. Maybe that does work better
LikeLike
Was it optimism? Maybe I prefer to call it “teasing” : P
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can’t decide what it says about me that I’m bad at recognizing both optimism and teasing, but maybe it’s good–or not. Who’s to tell
LikeLike
Maybe it was neither. Who’s to tell?
LikeLiked by 1 person
It seems like that little creature saw right through you. The squirrels in our yard have figured out how to knock on the door and ask for peanuts.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It knew me too well
LikeLike
LoL… two smiles in two posts. Now that is a good rate. Very nice, and thanks for leading me back here by your visit! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m glad you like it. Your stuff is great too
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are very kind. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovely post, but you see I’m not considered a magical princess by humans because I’m actually part unicorn. I am a unicorn princess and the magical is unnecessary as unicorns all have magical powers although I am particularly gifted.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think this might make us rivals for the sugar plum crown
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh dear. Well in the most unicornly fashion just saying but: OH, YOU’RE GOING DOWN.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m not gonna beat around the bush here: I’ll fight any icicle-headed glitter-donkey that comes at me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
exSCUSE ME? It is ON.
LikeLiked by 1 person