PG AND THE GREAT I AM

Soft yellow streaks across a pale gray sky awakened a symphony of harmonious melodies as the forest began to greet a new dawn. Fallen leaves began to rustle as the figure of a small squirrel shook off the last drops of morning dew and opened his eyes to an unfamiliar scene. PG was awake but unsure of where he was or how he'd gotten there. What was more unsettling were the dozens of eyes looking down on him. Large black birds with hooked beaks and sinister expressions were eyeing him as if he were a delicious meal just waiting to be eaten. “Hello,” said PG. “I’m PG. Who are you?” The birds jumped back, startled, yet still ready to pounce on their meal. “You are supposed to be dead!” grunted the largest bird. “We were about to eat you.” “Oh no! I’m not dead. I’m just hurt. I’m looking for the Great I Am to thank him for saving my life and helping me. Do you know where I can find Him?” “Don’t know who you are talking about, and, if he cheated us out of a meal, I don’t want to know.” The birds began to circle PG in a menacing way. “How long before you die? We’re looking for breakfast.” “Oh, I’m not going to die. I have gotten much better since the man animal hurt me with his smoke stick.” Feeling uncomfortable with these angry-looking birds, PG got up on his feet and began to walk away. “It was nice to meet you … er … what are your names?” “I am Bruno Buzzard and this is my family: Bert, Bully, Breakem, and Patty.” The buzzards opened their wings, and a rank smell filled the fresh morning air. Flapping and circling PG, they gave off such a dank odor that PG felt himself choking. He ran to get away from those awful creatures. He ran and ran until his leg began to throb and he had to stop. Looking back, he could see the buzzards with their wings outspread, lifting to the sky. PG watched them circling until they had reached a great height and were off in a westerly direction. I wonder where they are going. Maybe they can see the Great I Am from way up there. I wish I could fly. Walking in the same direction as the buzzards were flying, PG began to feel hungry. “I wonder what Mama is doing right now,” he said aloud, feeling lonely. “She is probably busy finding seeds and nuts and fresh grasses for breakfast for my brothers and sister. I wish Mama were here to bring me something to eat! … But then she wouldn’t understand about me trying to find and please the Great I Am, and she’d want me to stop and come home. ” Shrugging his shoulders, PG began to nibble on some daisy petals and forgot about Mama and the buzzards. After a while he saw a nice fallen log and climbed up to begin his routine of thumping and singing … if that is what you want to call it. Eeerk, thud, thump, bump, eeeik.