Song of the Acorn

The wind blew, and the leaves fluttered around him.

It would be a long drop to the ground, he thought. Truly frightening to think about, for that is where they reside. Dear God, do not let the them get me, his prayers echoed on a daily basis. To be captured, to be broken... It was a terrible fate, one he hoped he would never need experience. He had seen it happen to those before. Without warning, sometimes mid-conversation with an equally unsuspecting neighbor, they would fall to the cold, dry ground. There they would sit, and await their inevitable fate.

Sometimes they would call out, "Help, help! I see them coming, they are converging, they see me, they see me! No, no, please! This isn't..." But it would already be too late. Converge they would, and the cries would be drown in dreadful gnawing of pointy bucked teeth and death.

Bushy tails, beady eyes... Cunning is our foe. But we are the strong. We will not fall, for we are no ordinary acorns; no, we are THE Acorns, those whispered in the night, amid the rustling of the mighty oak trees... We are the acorns who will not fall.

So he sang.

The wind blew, and the leaves fluttered around him.

He would not fall.

The Long Tail of a Tadpole and a Fire-hose's Nozzle

A tiny tadpole swam in the murky waters of a cool, dark, place: the place in which he called his home. He knew nothing of the drastically life altering events about to unfold around him, for how could he? He was only a tadpole.

He swam to his right. He swam to his left. He released a mouth-bubble in quiet approval of his boundaries. In here, he was safe.

Then came the clink. CLINK!

And then a loud thump. But before the thump could register in his infantile-yet-wildly-imaginative-and-dangerously-intelligent-mind, he was mercilessly sucked into a raging vortex of deadly beam and bubble. His thoughts in this moment were those of confusion, of terror, and fear. This ordeal would have worsened in intensity as those remaining ideas were aptly flipped from his body, were it not for a single friend, unexpectedly made in the last breaths of his life in this difficult and oftentimes nonsensical world.

Time seemed to slow as his body increased in speed. A deep, yet strained voice echoed from the darkness surrounding him. "Hello."

"Hello?"

"Why are you inside of me?"

"Inside of you? Who are you?"

"My name... is Jeremiah. It is my solemn task to bring this water to those who are in need. Those who choose to hinder may not stand against. Tell me, smallish one, do you intend to hinder me from my duty?"

"I intend nothing of the sort! I commend you in your noble duty... My question pertains only to my own circumstance... What has happened to me? Why do I fly about in this most uncomfortable fashion? Why have you robbed me of my peace?"

"Robbed?" Asked the mysterious voice inside, "You dare insult my integrity, after first intruding into my body?"

"Body? Good sir, what ARE you?"

"I am that which is all around you. I am a tool of rescue. I am... a hose."

"A hose?"

"A hose."

"Alas, I fear then, my end has come. Tell me, Jeremiah the Hose, what awaits on the other side?"

"I know not, for I was not created with eyes."

"I see. I apologize."

An awkward lull in the conversation passed as the unfortunate tadpole rounded a turn, tumbling across Jeremiah's lining like a tadpole only would, head over fin in a very distinct rolling fashion.

"Do be careful!" The voice from nowhere boomed.

"I do the best I can, great one. There is but one issue I am presently more worried about: Impending doom, and death unimpeded!"

"Do your best then, I beg of you, to accept this fate without further noise, or unnecessary flailing, of that sort.

"Flailing? My dear hose, forgive me for being blunt, but you would be the last being I would consider taking council from, in these, quite possibly my final moments of life. What gives you the right?"

"Right? Incessant itch, you are a parasite within me. You have intruded; the most decent thing to do in your situation would be to quietly move on to whatever state The Fates have in store. Do you pray? Perhaps you should do so, and quietly."

"OH DEAR HOLDERS OF MY FATE!! I BEG OF THEE, SPARE ME FROM THIS HOSE'S WRATH!"

"WRETCHED BEING! I SHALL APPLAUD YOUR DEMISE!"

At which point, the tadpole began purposefully slamming his body upon the sides of Jeremiah's inside. Back and forth, back and forth he barreled as the already-frighteningly-jet-like flow of water began increasing in speed. The end was coming, and the tadpole knew it.

"Jeremiah! I apologize! I believe we may have had something of a bad beginning... how about we start over?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Small one."

"Yes?"

"Do you have a name?"

"I do not."

"Why not?"

"I never knew my family. I raised myself, alone in the confines of that place I was, just seconds ago."

"Then alas, your situation is grave. I accept your apology, as this is possibly your final moment of life. Enjoy this moment in silence."

"Thank you, Jeremiah."

"You are welcome."

And with the declaration of potential friendship, the nameless tadpole slipped through the fire-hose's nozzle with cartoon-like perfection, passed over the flaming building in a fireman's slight error of judgement, and landed in the creak across the way.

He lived happily ever after, marrying shortly after becoming a handsomely green pond frog, and had 20 children. He never saw his friend, Jeremiah the Hose, again.