I was outside smoking this morning and I noticed in the warm sunshine beams, branches and leaves falling from a tree behind where the facilities tyrants force us outsiders to smoke. As I looked up in the tree, I noticed two squirrels, one running along branches, chewing off one-foot sections and bringing them back to the other squirrel. Twice the squirrel doing the chewing would run down the trunk with the approved branch in mouth and run across the street to a different tree and place it somewhere up in the leaves.
The problem the squirrels made is on the grass below the tree were the dozens of “not-approved” branches discarded for some unknown squirrel reason.
My mind immediately created a story on this:
One male squirrel, one female squirrel. The female was instructing the male on which branches she wanted a nest built out of while the male squirrel ran and chose the branches he thought she would like and bring them to her for approval.
I wondered how I could make the scene into a story about a demanding wife squirrel making her poor husband hunt and find the proper length branches with just enough foliage to create a proper nest.
Then I said “The hell with it, no one would read a story about two squirrels arguing over branch lengths.”
-Sigh- sometimes I don’t know why I get the ideas I do.