Newly Wild Hedgehog

THE CATCH IN OUR VILLAGE BYLAWS A glitch in the console allowed me to cross through the wild brush. Not fifteen feet past the limits of our gated community, I approached a smoothed-out rock formation. A sharp young proprietor lived inside of the rock formation. He stepped outside of his rocks and he sued me for trespassing. In the wilderness, the law works differently. Individuals can sue each other much more efficiently, with no representation and little paperwork. I stuffed the notice into my Northface and onward I traveled.

Needless to say, I was cross. As I tripped down the steps of dead root and cut up my shins shuffling around the ill-kempt rock walls, I began to tug on my great aunt’s old necklace until it snapped apart and slipped into some leaves. There beneath the leaves, some goateed individuals were busy snacking on their canapés—pardon moi!—and when asked in simple English where a small silver pendant might have disappeared, they had nothing to tell me.

Needless to say, I sued their khakis off. Needless to say, they don’t look so sharp anymore, prancing about on all fours, gnawing placidly at the overgrown reeds with red mud caked all over their antlers.