A Thing that Happened | The Deacon's Seat (ebook)

A THING THAT HAPPENED,
BEFORE I FORGET ENTIRELY.

WELCOME TRAVELERS OF THE HALLOW WOODS (July 27, 2025)—So, here is a thing that happened. I was taking my little girl to a local museum, outside of which there may be found some outdoor exhibits, a park, farm, nature trails, &c. We had skipped down a path what borders the creek when I began to notice a large crowd congealing about us. Swaths of pubescent children seemed to be popping up from the northwest of nowhere; first one, then two, and four, and six and so on and so forth. Well, figuring that children do not just spontaneously generate (at least, mine didn't), I began to look around for any signs of a chute or ladder by way they might be descending. That's when I spy with my little eye a derelict chaperon, adrift forty feet away, engage in a fair amount of chin waggin' on the tell 'er phone. Unfortunately, we had stumbled into a field trip or more accurately a field trip stumbled onto us.

Well, I like to think that there are no unfortunate occurrences only fortunate inoccurrences (hey, it's the weekend, cut me some slack.) So, what did I do? I began to impart upon them not algebra, not sober studies nor even beluga futurology, but a real education. About the variety of the like akin to the kind for which I am known. Indeed! Schooled them I did in the ancient art of wampustry.

I spoke on the habits of jackalopes, the charisma of wampus cats and the like, and, just as a treat for myself, I reminded them not to forget to inquire to their teachers for further information.

Well, at length, the little scamps scampered off, and my daughter and me continued on our adventure. I had entirely forgotten about the matter until just as we were leaving. For it so happened that in seeing ourselves out, a little someone saw to out us.

Just a couple more steps, and I would have been in the clear. And, yet, the fledgling little ankle-biter called forth exclaiming, "Bye mister! Thanks for the information about wampus cats!" Whereupon a very perplexed teacher began to peer, how you may say, faultfindingly in our direction.

I did not respond, but rather gave a subtle nod, proceeded to speed walk for my vehicle and whispered discretely to my darling little one, "Go, go, little one, move, quickly, faster, faster, FASTER!" Needless to say, we got outta of there quicker than one can pray to the porcelain god immediately after staggering back from a Mardi Gras party.

With twice the gumption, and none of the gumbo.

The moral of this story being, of course, no good deed goes unouted. — Or, y'know, something of the sort.

I apologize to no one, and I regret nothing.

Lenwood S. Sharpe, Director

Lumberwoods, Unnatural History Museum

Parts Unknown, The Woods, U.S.A.