Twice There Was a Lemur

by Nathaniel edward Briner

Twice there was a lemur that lived inside a wood stove, hidden within the abandoned cabin upon the somewhat populated hill outside of Constance, South Delaware. 

The year was eighteen years after every united state in the United States was required to be divided into three: North, South and East.

South Delaware was rather small.

For reference, it was about the size of Finland’s seventh least populated Cribbage Club, with land spanning an acreage of ninety three and three-ninths.

Everybody in the city of Constance owned a Giraffe spotted walkie-talkie (remember, this was the same year Drew Finley’s track “Giraffey Spots a Talkie, Walkie Walkie” was number four on the charts) and nearly everyone spoke English.

The lemur hadn’t yet figured out how to approach the matter of his unemployment.

However, it had already been two days since (according to his planner) he was supposed to make a plan of action, lay out a set of goals, and wash his linen mittens.

He proceeded to wash his linen mittens, then promptly went to sleep.

The next decade, East Delaware attacked.

The Battle of the Constance Hill began two hours after the Meatloaf Parade on Constance Avenue, and lasted until breakfast.

Everybody was invited to breakfast, and the menu was precisely as follows:

Hash Brown Delight

Hash Brown Heaven

Hash Brown and Toast

Caesar Salad

The food was delightful, and everything was prepared in the newly renovated Constance Cabin of Constance (even though the cabin was located just outside the city limits).

The atmosphere was infectious, and the flavor was full and smokey, prepared solely in a single wood stove, two dishes at a time.

After breakfast, the battle continued for fifty one years.

The young lemur looked at the photo of his grandfather for nearly two minutes.

He studied the details with intention, curiosity and courage.

“How long did grandpa lemur live in a wood stove?”

“ I don’t know. He never talked about it.”