Loser, they called him without knowing what it meant. Loser, because his ways were strange to them. Loser, for all the times that he had gotten lost.
If he had applied his intelligence to business or entrepreneurship, he would probably have been one of the most notable minds of his age. But instead, he chose to live happily beneath a tree, in the still peaceful wilderness - his most loserly decision yet.
Monday, January 16, 2012
It was a gentle, translucent day, the very lucid kind, the kind that could charm the pants off you without uttering a single word. She ventured past the trees and onto the wild grass; the butterflies circled her flowing redorange hair, the larks serenaded her from the trees. There were also earthworms wriggling beneath the soil and bugs dying to live in the dirt beneath her nails, but we're less concerned with them. She was just beginning to enjoy the warmth of the sun and the swell of the breeze when a hunter saw her and with one terrifying gunshot, he killed the last female orangutan in the Amazon.