A story about 3 beings beginning with the letter “M.” Appropriate for silly people of all ages. Never before appearing in public…..
it’s:
Mongolian, Mongrel, and Mongoose
Together they are the three. The holy hot heads of Monterey forest, Woodland Hills, the Schwarzwald, the Bois de Boulogne, the Cedars of Lebanon, Zambesi National Park or just here in the trees behind your own backyard.
The mongrel had lost his collar or never had one. He was a homeless soul wandering, when he heard the mongoose hunting for snakes. The mongrel snuffled and ruffled through the underbrush. Searching for the sound.
From the other side, on the left or the right, from behind or in front, came the Mongolian. Covered in leather and furs, he was a desperate descendent of Genghis who just happened to be called Gary. Gary the Mongolian had trouped and traipsed all over the world in search of a friend. But people ran, screaming Mongol Mongol!!! whenever they saw him.
So he was always ever alone.
Gary faithfully tracked and traversed for elusive friendship, but he tripped over the termite hill that the mongoose was resting in. He got up and fell over the trailing mongrel, and then fell some more over the roots and the stones, until he rolled down the embankment, and plunked into the lake.
They made friends just like that. And now the three watch television in the forest, which might also be the green belt between the freeways, or the bonsai tree in your imagination — thanks to a satellite hookup and carbonizing acorns that make electricity.
They watch Emeril, and Iron Chef, while Gary pounds the pans and pots over the hot campfire, making stews and soups, and even a casserole that he baked in a hole in the ground. Mikey and Meredith, the mongrel and the mongoose, look on — barking and chattering, singing and chanting their thanks. For the company, for the food.
For being together in the dark deep green.
Stephanie Barbé Hammer Writing (Un) Real 