“Say, um, baby, this part of the forest is getting pretty crowded,” says Ramona. "I saw a picnic, Ralph! People! Six people, Ralph!"
Ralph is inspecting his toenails. He can’t hear her. Nope. He sighs.
“There are chiggers and black beetles in our nesting material,” says his wife.
He puts his foot down onto the forest floor. Ralph has seen this movie before. In fact, it triggers selective deafness if possible.
“There is nothing to eat around here. That fat Thaga picked all of the berries in my patch Ralph! Can you hear me?
“Your recent hunting leaves a lot to be desired. I can’t do anything with mangled squirrels and trash fish! We don’t have a corndog tree around here!”
Ralph leaps whooping to beat the devil up onto his feet! He grabs the trunk of a ten-year-old Douglas fir and rips it right out of the ground. He shakes it! Dirt flies everywhere. It sprinkles Ramona’s golden curls. He beats his chest. His grimaces are terrible. Even Dave P. couldn’t face this display calmly with squinky eyes!
She looks at him appraisingly. She senses that she has the edge. As usual.
“So, Ralph, who’re you sleeping with tonight, baby?”
💓
Ralph realizes immediately that this IS moving day. He lowers his voice and his arms. He winks at Ramona and starts to get ready to move to a new location in the deep damp and shady woods. He works out in his head how to get a new nest made by nightfall. He’s thinking about a bit of hunting right at twilight when the deer are at their most twitchy.
There really isn’t much to move, to tell the truth. In fact, there are only a few trinkets left from raiding a few people’s camps. A flashlight, with dead batteries. His cell phone. Their one saucepan. A skillet, a knife, a couple spoons and a couple forks. Their Bic lighter. They are quite modern. They cook. No salt and pepper though.
Ralph puts all this stuff into a big blue Ikea bag and trots off down a subtle trail, deeper into the forest. He turns and gives a whistle to Ramona.
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