This is hilarious even if a bit sickening: The old squirrel heard a noise. What could it be? Oh, the Wheel. The Wheel needed him again. But he was old, and tired. Tired of running that Wheel. Tired of being the engine inside the machine. Maybe if he went back to sleep, the Wheel would leave him alone. Ah, but no. It would not be silent. The old squirrel pulled himself to his feet, frail and thin, his movements a symphony of pain and stiffness. To the Wheel, to the Wheel. The squirrel eyed the Wheel wearily, then placed one paw inside it and nudged it, ever so slightly. The Wheel turned, if only a little. Perhaps that was enough. "Donald Trump had to swear on a Bible!" Was it enough? No, the Wheel still wanted more. Needed more. With a resigned sigh, the old squirrel pawed at the Wheel again, the creaking and groaning of the metal mirroring his old and weary joints. "Merry Christmas sir." It was enough. Back to sleep, back to painless oblivion. To rest until the Wheel called him again. If he was lucky, death would call first. ~JauntyOwlette
