macblaze.ca

4:20

The first thought the beaver had as his head cleared after the collision was, “Oh gross, I’ve got a rat up my ass!” The second thought was, “Oh gross, I’ve got a rat up my ass!” As a result of these two very similar thoughts, the beaver jumped — in as much as a short-legged beaver with a rat up his ass can jump — almost straight up and swiveled in an ungainly heel turn to settle between the slightly flattened rat and the stairs.

“Gaagh!” the beaver spat, “I hate rats.” He backed away slowly through the once-more scattered papers and continued to mutter. “Stupid, ugly … can’t stand the smell … all over my ass for hell’s sake … Not coming off I bet …”

The rat for its part lay where it was, its sole movement a slight downward turn of its cheeks and whiskers producing a look that could only be described as pathetic — if one chose to have sympathy for a rat, that is. And predictably enough, very few people did; the beaver certainly had zero sympathy, empathy, affinity, harmony or anything smacking of fraternity for the bedraggled and flattened rodent. In fact the beaver tended toward outrage, affront, aggrievement, and offence.

The spiders on the ceiling were of course neutral.

 

4:19

From beneath the low-growing juniper directly in front of him Edward heard a slight rustle.

“Oh, do you need a moment alone?” the beaver’s voice mocked in a sarcastic tone. “I wouldn’t want want to disturb you and your… Well, bless my soul, I actually have no idea what you are doing to that poor little tree.” Edward watched through droopy eyelids as the beaver stepped into the small clearing. “Please,” the beaver seemed to purr, “enlighten me.”

Edward abruptly stood up and shook his head vigorously, ears making loud thwacks as they flapped back and forth. “Now, now. No need to take that tone. I can only assume from your presence and the lemon’s that you are no more immune to its charms than I appear to be. Most peculiar. I wouldn’t have thought I would be susceptible to something so … visceral.

“But now that we are all gathered, shall we continue our sadly interrupted conversation?”

The only response from the beaver was a slight tilt of his head and a faint noise that sounded remarkably like a snicker.

Edward moved around the lemon tree toward the smug beaver and visibly ignored the sweet citrus scent that tempted him backward. The beaver watched him approach, the mocking smile on his lips growing tenser. “Do you really think this is appropriate place for a discussion of such great import?” The beaver’s tone was awash with snideness. “Really, I thought you had more of a sense of decorum than to air your dirty little secrets in a dirty little copse. For shame, Sir Bunny, for shame…”

The biting tone was just the thing to dispel the last of the lemon’s allure, and Edward’s head quickly cleared itself of all distractions. He locked his gaze on the pestiferous beaver’s grinning face and replied. “I suppose you must grasp at your straws like like one of the Titanic’s survivors, but you didn’t abandon ship soon enough, my little buck-toothed friend. Not nearly soon enough. And I am not going to rescue your soggy little ass until you cough up a few facts. Believe me, you want me to be the rescuer, not those others I’ve noticed sniffing around your little mess.”

The beaver’s ears, such as they were, perked up. “Oh, are there new players, then?”

“No, not new players. But then you’ve never recognized that this isn’t all about you, have you?”

“Pwah! No one else is equipped to deal with matters on my level, and so no one else is entitled to an opinion. Including you. And who the hell are you to be throwing out ‘buck-toothed’ as a epithet? Looked in a mirror lately, you dentally challenged varmint?”

“Ah, taking refuge once more in insults. Things never change, do they?” Edward sat back, not taking his eyes off the beaver. “Now, shall we begin? Again?”

 

4:18

Edward took a step toward the lemon tree and inhaled. “That is really a lovely odor, it is,” he said to the tree. “Quite a lovely fragrance. I do think it’s one of the best things I’ve smelled in a long long while. Heavenly.”

Edward crowded in a little closer to the tree and slowly moved around to the other side like an overly friendly cat attempting to trip up a human not smart enough to give him his due. The leaves and branches of the tiny tree dragged along his spine, and Edward emitted a sound not unlike a purr before settling down on his hind legs, chin resting on the edge of the pot.

“Such a fine smell,” Edward said dreamily, “a fine smell on a fine, fine day.“ And then inhaled once more and slowly closed his eyes. “Just for a moment…”

4:16

It wasn’t the rat’s fault. It certainly wasn’t his choice. Somewhere deep down in his rat brain, he deeply regretted ever moving north last winter. But he’d been hungry. And the rail car had had such tasty tidbits.

But ever since he’d gotten off that car, nothing had been going his way. He’d been cold, hungry and most especially lonely for months now. And after he’d finally found a warm place to stay, with access to some juicy tidbits next door, along comes this giant bully rat to steal the very bed beneath him.

Not much could penetrate the single-mindedness of any rat’s existence, but the injustice of this situation came pretty close. And now he was lying pinned under this grumpy fat rat with the deformed tail, and he couldn’t move. Not a bit. It was enough to make a more intelligent creature cry. It was certainly enough to make this one whimper.

As so he did.

“Whimper…”

 

4:15

Edward stared at the sad little lemon tree and its single bloom, sitting slightly askew under the boughs of the pine tree. It obviously hadn’t been there for long but already a few pine needs lay in the soil of its brown plastic pot. There was no sign of how it had been manhandled into its present position, but for the life of him Edward couldn’t imagine how the beaver had brought it to its current resting place.

There were no other signs that anyone had been in this particular gap in the trees and bushes lately. No tracks, no scuffs nor drag marks in the leaves and needles that littered the ground. It was as if the lemon had been magically transported to this site; and that, as Edward knew perfectly well, was ridiculous. He had more than enough experience with the universe to know magical things always had a rational explanation. It really only depended on whose rationality you were using.

Still, was it really important to consider the how, or was that just a dead end that would waste even more of his time? Time, Edward was acutely aware, was in fact running out. The moment was now, and he had little time to act if he wanted to retain any sense of control over the situation. And, Edward admitted to himself, control was always an issue with him.

A moment, nothing more, and then we will move on. There’s just a chance that this sad-looking citrus is the key to something useful.

 

4:14

In the end it was not keen eyesight nor swiveling ears that confirmed Edward was on the right trail. About halfway down the path, his nose twitched once, twice, and Edward’s descent came to a sudden and jarring halt. From somewhere upwind came the distinct smell of lemon.

Now why would I be smelling lemons in a park? An out-of-the-way lemonade stand? I think not.

“You don’t suppose the silly beaver took the tree with him do you, “ Edward mused. “Silly, silly…” he mumbled as he approached the little copse of trees by the path at the bottom of the hill. “Beaver!”

Edward pushed into the thick undergrowth and emerged in a small quiet space that contained a small potted Meyers lemon tree but was otherwise quite unoccupied.

“Bugger,” he muttered.

4:13

Edward moved through the park, ears perked and eyes slowly scanning back and forth. He knew it was likely he had guessed right. It was highly unlikely that the beaver had been able to travel far in the short amount of time he’d had, and it didn’t seem likely he would head to the more populated parts of town at a time like this.

Edward didn’t think the beaver had exactly panicked, but he likely wasn’t thinking completely straight. He put up a brave face, but underneath that sleek pelt he was pretty easily rattled.

“No, no, he hasn’t gone too far,”  Edward said to himself.

He paused at the top of the hill and slowly turned 360 degrees. “Yup, I’ll bet my fuzzy little tail he’s around here somewhere.”

Rat-a-Tatty

4:11

The beaver went back on his haunches. The rat went backwards out of the box. And the contents of the box went pretty much everywhere as it overturned.

“BLESSED Garfinkle!” shouted the beaver as he swung his small brown arms, trying to regain his equilibrium. “What the hell’s the matter with you, you vile stupid rodent? Are you trying to kill me?” he finished between taking big gulps of air.

Dropping back to all fours he took a menacing step forward, fur bristling until he looked twice the size. “Get your scrawny carcass out here where I can see you,” he growled, realizing he sounded not unlike a rat terrier he had once met in the south of France.

The was no movement.

“I said, GET. YOUR. SCRAWNY. ASS. OUT. HERE. Right now!”

Still no movement and nothing but a lot of silence.

“I am not crawling any further under this disgusting furnace for the sake of a rat,” he muttered to himself and took a small step toward the scattered papers from the overturned box.

He started scooping the papers together and then grabbed the ratty box and dragged it toward himself. He kept an eye on the darkness behind the furnace and occasionally thought he saw some movement.

“I hate rats,” he mumbled to himself. “Only good thing about this job was there weren’t supposed to be any rats. And what do I find? Stupid rat.”

Eventually the beaver got everything collected into the now much less than sturdy cardboard container. It could hardly be called a box anymore as the one side was torn down to the bottom and none of the tape seemed to have any adhesive left. He dragged back out from under the low ceiling, keeping half an eye on the space where he had last seen the rat.

“Now what?” he called aloud to the darkness. “Am I supposed to just leave you there?”

Silence.

“Stupid RAT! I’ve got better things to do with my time than deal with slimy-tailed flea-bitten vermin…”

Nothing

“Aargh!” The beaver let out a strangled growl and divided his attention between the treasure at his feet and the hidden foe lurking in the shadows. After a few moments of this mutter-filled tableau the beaver glanced down to the top sheet of paper, where the phrase “Last Will and Testament” caught his eye. He grabbed the sheet and turned to read the rest of it. Of course at that moment, the rat, mangy and hungry and very, very frightened, made a break for it, heading straight for the beaver who stood between him and some sort of freedom.

An observer, had there been any, might have quipped ’bowling for beavers’ at the results of Ezekial’s rash choice. But alas, there was no one there to see the resulting collision except a small family of spiders, which frankly didn’t care.