STILL WILD
by
T.K. Wade
*****
PUBLISHED BY:
Cover Art Illustrated by:
T.K. Wade and Coy Fields II
Still Wild
Copyright © 2015 by T.K. Wade
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
*****
STILL WILD
*****
Chapter 1
Three Rats
Once on a time, there were three rats who after doing some deeds of notoriety, had fallen into good favor with the queen of rats. This queen was the most beautiful of all rats in the world and was greatly desired by the many rodents across the sphere.
Among these three rats was the fancy rat who was well-known as the fashionable pet of a duke. His fur had an illustrious sheen, and he was considered quite handsome by his peers. The second among the rodents was the street rat. This rat had a very roughish appearance, but you may suppose that he was handsome in his own way. The third rodent was a hideous mole rat. This poor fellow was ugly beyond belief so that even to look at him would cause one to feel quite ill.
Once presented to the rat queen, she–at first–gazed down at her possible suitors. She was at once drawn to the handsome features of the fancy rat, but then when she saw the street rat, she was quite thrilled by his appearance. Sadly, she could only wince at the mole rat and wondered how he could have ever found favor in the ratly high courts.
So as it happened, the rat queen designed a test to assist her in choosing between the three whom wanted dearly her hand in mating. She posed a single question to these men, and the question was thus: “If you would be mated to me–the queen of all rats–how would you make me happy?”
The fancy rat yawned at first, for he had already assumed that he would be the victor. Once he had obtained the energy to reply, he said to the queen of rats, “If I could have your hand in mating, I would make you happy by simply being handsome. You shall only have to gaze upon my shiny fur and be pleased that you had made the right decision.”
The queen nodded her head and replied back, “As strange as it sounds, that may perchance be true, for you are pleasing to look upon; however, there may be other things that will please me more. What of you, dashing street rat?”
The street rat cast the female a very jaunty smile. He raised his paws into the air with much dramatic effect as he replied, “My queen! As I am a rogue, I shall be able to steal great quantities of food for your pleasure! For if I have your hand in mating, all the delicacies of the humans shall be at your disposal!” It really was a very striking performance from the street rat.
The queen of the rats was very impressed. She replied to him, “I would very much enjoy such lavish attention from you, dashing street rat; however, if you must always be forced to steal from the humans to provide me such luxuries, you would likely be killed in the action by one of your vengeful victims. Such a mating could prove short lived.”
And then the queen turned towards the unattractive mole rat who gazed up longingly with his little beady eyes. She addressed him with a tinge of regret in her voice, “And what would you, mole rat, do to make me happy?”
The mole rat stepped up and kept his posture straight the best he was able to. He replied in a respectful and somewhat melodious tone, “I would sing to you every night so that you may find pleasure and comfort by my voice.”
“Can you sing?” she asked.
“Indeed, my queen,” was the mole rat’s reply, and he proved it by singing in the most beautiful and enchanting voice anyone had ever heard. She was quite surprised to hear such a voice coming from something so ugly, but after hearing it, she knew that she could not live without it.
After the mole rat had finished his tune, the queen of the rats finally announced, “You, fancy rat, have a beauty that is quite remarkable, and you, street rat, are exciting and bold; however, the mole rat is a hideous thing to witness, but he hides his beauty within himself in the form of an enchanting voice. Somehow, I find his talent to be greater than the both of your declarations combined. I am sorry, but I must chose the mole rat as my mate.”
As would be expected, the fancy rat and the street rat were very disappointed as they were dismissed. The mole rat took his place at the queen’s side and sang to her every night as he had promised. Indeed, they lived happily ever after.
~~~~~
Chapter 2
The Fox and his Food
As it is known to happen many times within the course of nature, there was within a forest a chase between a predator and prey. The predator in the case of this story was a fox of excellent form and breeding where his pursued prey was a common rabbit. The latter of the two–being that he was very swift of foot–was well-known for his ability to escape from danger; however, the fox had been clever and made sure not to reveal himself until the last moment. This was the folly of said rabbit, and so the chase was ended quickly.
Soon, the rabbit found himself pinned down under the paws of the triumphant fox. He was panting from exhaustion, for he had run quite a ways before the very disappointing conclusion. Knowing that his life was soon to be ended, he attempted to entreaty the fox to spare his life. “Oh! Please, Mister Fox,” spoke the rabbit, “you must not kill me now! Can you not spare me for even a small time?”
“Afraid not, old chap,” replied the fox politely. “You see, I rather had to chase you half way through my territory, and it was no easy task, let me tell you. You rabbits are always so quick to bolt at any sign of trouble, so to get as close as I could was a credit to my own kind. You failed in your escape and must now pay the consequences.”
The rabbit knew his time was up, but then he thought of a way that he might extend his life just a bit longer. He told the fox, “I have a mate and children back my warren. If you will allow me to return to tell them goodbye, I will return here tomorrow to be devoured.”
“What if you choose not to return?” asked the fox suspiciously.
Then the rabbit did a very strange thing. He held up his paw and said, “I solemnly swear by the sun and the stars and the blood of my kind that I will return, for I understand that you have bested me fair and square. But you must let me go alone so that my warren remains a secret.” The oath made by the rabbit was one known by all animals, so the fox instantly knew that the rabbit intended to accomplish the action.
“Very well,” said the fox. “I will return tomorrow and eat you, and as I am a fox of honor, I will not follow you to your warren.”
“Thank you!” cried the bunny, and off he went.
Now, the fox was not so much honorable as he was clever and greedy. Against his promise, he stealthily pursued his prey and took note of where the warren was. Later that night, the fox gathered up his friends and told them of the secret location, and they all found his intelligence to be quite good.
The next day, the rabbit appeared to be eaten just as he said he would, and the fox pinned him down in the same manner as he had done the previous day. Said the rabbit, “I have kept my promise and am ready to be eaten by you.”
“Ah!” grinned the fox. “And I am very pleased that you have done so, but before I kill you, you must know that my friends are currently digging out your warren. Soon, your family and friends will be food for my fel
lows, and you have only yourself to blame. Goodbye, little rabbit!”
Before he was killed, the rabbit’s eyes were large and filled with horror. It must be understood that where he may have a good sense of honor as a rabbit, a fox is still a fox and will not cease to be who he was born to be.
~~~~~
Chapter 3
The Bad Crow
Once on a time, there was a crow who lived in a forest with many types of birds. For the most part, this crow did not make much of a fuss. He remained on his own separate tree and usually did nothing to bother his neighbors. Occasionally, this crow would attempt to make music which would bother the other birds, for–as you know–crows do not make a pleasant sound.
“Caw! Caw! Caw!” he would cry sending shivers through those other nicer-sounding birds who heard him. If he went on a bit too long, one or two of them would ask him to stop, and to this request, he would promptly submit–at least, for a time.
Now, this crow really was not that good of a fellow. In fact, I would go so far as to say he was quite bad. You see, he had made friends with his nearest neighbor–the chickadee–and had attempted to gain her confidence. In this endeavor, he was quite successful; however, one day when the crow was feeling quite hungry, he noticed that the chickadee had left to go look for some food, and her eggs had been trustingly left behind.
The crow loved eggs and thought since he had been seen around her nest so often, no one would suspect him. So he fluttered down to her nest and destroyed the eggs with his beak eating the insides to his own content. When the chickadee returned, she was heartbroken that her eggs had been destroyed. She told the crow what had happened, and he pretended to be surprised and tried to comfort her; however, the other birds in the forest greatly suspected him but could do nothing to prove it. Inevitably, the crow was left alone but now greatly disliked.
Over time, the crow formed friendships with other crows who happened by the forest. They would scheme and plot against the other birds in order to steal their eggs in a similar fashion. They knew that they were suspected, and for this reason, they had to be much sneakier. Several times, the authorities were called upon them, but the crow and his friends simply denied the action and nothing could really be done to stop them. It was troubling times in the forest.
As it just so happened one day, the crow came down with a very violent illness. He coughed and sputtered and turned all sorts of dreadful colors. The doctor bird flew over to his nest and proclaimed that he would be dead in three weeks. The crow cursed his luck and went about telling the other birds in the forest that he was such a sad case–cut down in his prime and all that. The other birds nodded and gave small gestures of notice to him but otherwise did little more than that.
During the nights, the crow would make his horrid music and cry out blessings to all those around him. He sang about forgiveness and things we often consider to be good; although, he could not make it sound too good with a voice as shrill as he possessed. And then the day came when he laid out upon his nest–wings spread out and beak open. He looked up at the sky and wondered what the forest would be like without him. His friends had left him for other ventures in theft, and very few of the other birds had spoken to him recently. Some moments later, he breathed his last and was dead.
Now, I must ask you to think on this, for once this crow was alive and now he is dead. Do you wonder if the other birds felt badly for the crow who had suffered the unexpected malady? Was the forest hurt for such a thing? In truth, there was little change at all in the activities of the forest once the crow had passed on, but the birds living there were far more relieved that he was gone. For even though the crow did not always make trouble, just having him around was a trial in itself.
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Chapter 4
The Fatherless Possums
Once on a time, there was Mama Possum, and she was busy carrying no less than sixteen little ones as she made her way ‘cross some human’s yard. Now, these possums happen to be one of them marsupials and have a pouch like them kangaroos in Australia, but I must tell you that this particular mother had so many kids that most of them had to cling for dear life onto her back and front.
“Where we goin’, ma?!” shouted several of the children. You might find that question understandable when all you can see if the underside or “overside” of the possum that’s carrying you.
“An’t none of ya’lls business, ya hear?! I’s goin’ where I wanna go! You kids better just hush and let Mama Possum do as she pleases!”
This naturally caused the children to get a bit more rowdy, and when you got sixteen rowdy kids crawlin’ all over you, it just an’t no fun. “Why we leaving home, ma?! An’t pappy gonna miss us?”
“Pappy’s dead,” said Mama Possum bluntly. All the children gasped in horror, and some cried.
One of the lil possums asked, “You sure he an’t fakin’? Pappy was always good at fakin’ it.”
Mama Possum nodded something big at that. “He sure was! He was good at fakin’ just about everything in life. Led me to believe he was all kinds of gentlemanly, but he just as bad as the rest of ‘em! Don’t ya’ll forget it!”
The children all had mixed feelings for this surprising news. Some cried, some panicked, but others were more curious. As Mama Possum stopped at a road waiting for her turn to cross, one of those babies asked, “How’d pappy die?”
“For his own stupidity, that’s why! Yer pappy was spendin’ time with every lady possie in town, and I only just found out about it! Tell you what I did when I saw him with that hussy in the garbage bin! ‘Bout stuck a needle in my heart for how shocking it was, but then I gets mad. You know mama when she gets mad!”
All the children agreed. They knew their mama had a terrible temper. She continued, “I looked him right in the eye, and I said to him, ‘I thought you told me we were forever!’ and he looks at me like it was nothin’ at all and says to me, ‘We are forever! But this way I can be forever for everyone!’ ‘Course it didn’t work. I decided right there, I was gonna claw out his eyes and bite off his head!”
“That how he died?” asked one of the children.
“Nah! He ran off when I told him I’d do it. Suppose that was a mistake seeing how I coulda surprised him.”
“Then how did pappy die?”
“I chased him to a road right as a car was comin’. Twernt the wheels that killed him. He was so plum afraid that he jumped up three feet into the air and got taken off by the grill. Probably still stuck to it, I reckon.”
“Poor, poor pappy!” whined a few of the kids.
“Ya’ll can stop it right there, kids! Your pappy an’t and never was worth a damn! He never cared about you, me, or any of those other gals! ‘Cause of him, I got to raise all you by myself, and I an’t lookin’ forward to it one bit! So ya’ll just shut your yaps and hold on tight! Mama’s gonna take you somewhere with more room so maybe I won’t die a real death by being run over by my own kids!”
Many of the children cried out, “We love you, ma!”
“I love ya too,” she said, “But love an’t gonna feed all your yaps! Now, shut up and behave!” They were much quieter after that.
~~~~~
Chapter 5
The Council of Sheep
Within a farm that was well-known within its community, there were a number of sheep that all came together to hold council with one another. There had been a very striking problem lately which took the form of a local wolf who had been sneaking about the area.
“The first thing we must consider,” said Mister Wooley the council chairman, “is that we must not be judgmental by any degree. A wolf is a living thing like any of us. We must discuss this as common citizens of this world like any other.”
Fluffy who was a very prominent member of the group spoke up, “World citizen or not, I have heard nothing good about these wolves. I say we ban him from getting anywhere near our happy, little farm.”
“We must not judge,” repeated Mister Wooley. ??
?What right have we to judge a wolf without any proof of his individual character?”
“Second!” cried Puffy McSoft. He was almost always in agreement with the chairman. “I say we let the wolf defend himself before judgement is made. Good heavens! What kind of people are we to just toss around accusations simply because he was born a wolf. We do not know who he is and therefore cannot simply cast him aside.”
“I might make a suggestion as well,” announced Baaahbera. “I hear wolves are quite strong. Let us say he is a good wolf. He would be quite useful in protecting us if he became our ally.”
The latter suggestion greatly impressed Mister Wooley. He went on to say, “I say we allow this wolf to show his true colors. We shall remain on guard in case he proves to be the beast some of us assumes he shall be.” He was glaring at Fluffy who looked down with shame.
As it just so happened, the wolf had been nearby secretly listening in on the debate. He jumped over the fence and bowed before those who would judge his character. “I could not help but overhear. I am quite pleased with your decision to allow me to demonstrate my innocence.”
Everyone backed away from him a few steps, and Mister Wooley nodded. “You may proceed.”
The wolf walked about as he spoke, “It is true that wolves are well known for their treachery; however, as the very wise Mister Wooley has said, you do not know me personally. In truth, I do not think violent thoughts at all. I only think of sheep.”
“There is nothing violent about sheep,” confirmed Puffy McSoft.
The wolf continued, “Sheep are fine, fine personages to associate with. I often times imagine that I am one of them. I feel that I would do good things if I was allowed to serve them as one of their own.”