Staten Island Muck

He came to the mouth of his burrow, sniffing the air.  He could hear tree limbs creaking and the occasional crack as one split and fell to the ground, overburdened and exhausted.  As am I, he thought, and shuffled backward into warmth and darkness.

As am I, he thought again, turning to the others in the cavern, knowing there would be no rest until his task was done.  "Fellow warriors," he cried out, rising up on his rear haunches to be seen above the assembled masses.  "The humans are addled by snow and ice.  The sun is hidden by stormclouds.  Our shadow-brothers are untethered and may march freely over the land.  The time as come."

And so, without their ever leaving the burrow, an army was sent forth.

Happy Groundhog Day!

--Steve Kilian

Dispatch from Gobbler’s Knob

Staten Island Chuck