Fiddleeebod

The gentle float floated gently on the surface of the sea. There was nothing else to be seen for miles around. The float sighed. It felt blessed to be floating so peacefully on the sea. Suddenly it was sent wobbling when whacked from the side. A gasping hummingbird clung to it.

‘Oh good, oh well, oh nice. Thanks for being here. I never would have made it. I’m not cut out for long distance flight, I can tell you. What brought me here, you ask? (The float hadn’t asked. In fact, it hadn’t said anything at all.) Very well, if you insist, I’ll tell you. That scampering weasel told me there were gardens of glory beyond this sea. I fell for it. Are there gardens of glory? No, you say? (The float still hadn’t said a word.) I thought as much. Well, let me catch my breath a bit, and I’ll head back where I came from. I reached here, didn’t I? So I can reach back, can’t I? I agree. (The float maintained silence, concentrating instead on bearing up under the extra weight of hummingbird.) Whew, well, kind of boring out here, isn’t it? I thought so. (The float could have said a word or two about hurricanes and such, but didn’t.) I’m pretty sure I’ve got my second wind now. I’ll be off. Been nice chatting with you.’

The hummingbird zapped off. The float swayed back and forth for a time, then settled into a calm stillness. It floated gently on the surface of the sea.

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Stories by Steve