Colby and The Squirrels - The Field

Colby didn’t know what to expect when he went on that hike, but it certainly wasn’t this.

It all started one afternoon back in his bedroom. Colby was sprawled out on his bed, snoring softly. One hand laid against the black comforter, while the other was buried inside a bowl of cheese doodles. Near the end of his bed was an opened pizza box from Matteo’s Pies. A single lonely slice of cold pizza sat inside—topped with walnuts. A small beam of light flashed on the pizza. It zig-zagged on the walnuts

Scrunching up his face, his eyes snapped open right as the light hit his retinas. Groaning, he covered his eyes. The beam of light moved off his face and disappeared. As he got up from his bed, cans of mountain dew and candy wrappers tumbled onto the floor.

Music and cheering crinkled from the small television in front of him. His blond hair stood up in all directions. A game controller was stuck to the side of his face. Peeling off the controller, he crawled out of bed, knocking down the bowl of cheese doodles.

Reaching over to close the blinds, he saw a pair of squirrels peering at him from the window sill. They jumped away in fright, just as his hand touched the cord. Sighing, he turned around. Strange speckles from the light caused almost blurred his sight. Despite this, he could still make out the bits of his room. His bedroom was painted red and plastered with FIFA posters. Newspaper clippings from the sport section were taped along the walls. There was a light tapping on the window. A small beam of sunlight danced across his eyes.

Making his way down the narrow staircase, he entered the kitchen. Yesterday’s macaroni and cheese dinner still remained in the air. Letting out a long yawn he rubbed his eyes. His vision could only make out a few odd shapes, most of them familiar. The silver square was the toaster, the strange boxy objects were where his mother kept all her teas. Sat right on the gray stove was a bright red blob—he knew as the kettle. Next to it was a strange gray jump—he figured it was the pot from the night before. He shivered and opened the kitchen window. The warm summer air wafted into the room.

Walking over to the stove, he reached over to turn on the kettle. What he didn’t realize, however, was the cat Smudge was sitting on the stove. Smudge was a stray cat who was found three-years-ago in the garbage bin outside. Her long, striped fur was covered in three different shades of gray. White fur made it look like she wore socks and white eye makeup. If someone looked even closer, they could see the sandy peach splotches on her nose. The family liked to joke that she couldn’t go outside, less she be stolen.

She slept soundly; her tail curled under the kettle with no awareness of the oncoming danger. As the flame lit, so did the tip of the cat’s tail. Bright colors of red and orange licked the tips of her fur. Feeling the head on her tail, her green eyes snapped open before she sprung off the stove. Yowling, she rushed all around the room, biting and scratching, knocking down all sorts of dishware and kitchen décor. The fire alarm exploded in a horrible, screeching sound. Colby’s eyes opened sharply in shock, his heart pounding. Clasping his hands over his ears, he grabbed a wet rag that was sitting in the sink.

The cat dragged her tail around the room, lighting almost anything flammable to flame. Colby slapping each small fire with a wet rag, shouting as he reached toward her with his free hand. Before he could grab her, she jumped out of the open window, lighting the curtains on fire. Flames licked at the hand-stitched birds stitched into the thin fabric. With a splash, she landed into the birdbath outside before jumping out and landing into the lawn. Despite the fire being extinguished, she ran yowling, jumping over the short red brick wall that surrounded the lawn.

His mother leaped off living room couch and rushed into the room shouting. Her arms waving wildly as she yelled at her son. Ripping the curtains, she drowned them into the sink. The cuffs of her knitted sweater soaked up the soapy dishwater.

She was a plump woman who stood two inches taller than he was. Images of walking brown bears etched into her top circled around her in an infinite loop. As she spun around to glare at him, it looked as if they were running in a fury. A bright red glow formed on her chubby  cheeks. Freckles covered the bridge of her small, round nose, reaching down to the sides of her face. Her dirty-blonde lump of a bun flopped lazily to the side. Just as quickly, her scowl turned into a grimace as she pressed her weight down on her bad leg.

There was an accident. She had strained herself too much, causing an injury. No one knew exactly what caused it. If it was from running, or not lifting with the knees. Regardless, the doctor wanted her off her feet until she healed. Normally, she would’ve been wearing leggings, but due to her knee, she wore black sweat-shorts.

“Mom!” Colby jumped to his feet, helping his mom to a wooden chair next to the dining table. Glancing into the living room, he saw her quilted blanket bunched up on the couch. A bowl of popcorn and science fiction DVDs laid on the carpet. Lazer sound-effects echoed from the television screen.

When the pain subsided, she asked—though it sounded more like shouting, “How on earth did the curtains catch on fire?”

Colby threw his hands up. “It wasn’t my fault!” he said. “The cat. She was on the stove. Her tail was right on top of the burner!”

“And you didn’t see her?”

“Her whole body looked like it was part of the stove!”

“Well,” his mother sighed, shaking her head. “Where is she now?”

He pointed to the open window. “Ran outside.”

“She what?” forgetting her injury, his mother got up and rushed to the window. Peering out of the window, she could see a tiny gray speck running off down the street. It was then that she noticed the open window. “Colby…” she glared at him. “What did I tell you about opening the window?”

“I thought it would be okay!” Colby said. “I didn’t realize she would run out.”

“Welp, it looks like you need to go an’ catch her,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

Huffing, Colby went to the counter and lifted the lid of a cookie jar. He grabbed two of his mom’s herbal cookies and stuffed them into his mouth. Slipping on a pair of crocs, he opened the screen door and walked out onto the lawn.

Their lawn was a small square plot, barely big enough to hold any sort of thriving garden. It’s grass was dry and brittle, almost like hay. A short red-brick wall at The house which it stood in wasn’t any much better. It was a small narrow house about two-stories high, with faded blue paint. It barely counted as a house.

“Don’t come back until you watch her!” his mother called out from the window, before she slammed it shut.

Turning, Colby began walking down the street, among the many identical houses. One of them—a white one with black trim, had it’s blinds drawn. A hanging bird cage stand stood there, vacant of any bird cage it was supposed to be holding. An older woman was rushing around the house, shouting at her parakeets as they whisked around the living room. Passing by one crossing, his eye raised as he saw a short metal stump where the stop sign was supposed to be. In fact, come to think of it, a lot of other things were missing as well. Camping chairs, garden gnomes, and what have you. Someone had even stolen the Canadian flag from one of his neighbors.

He walked down towards the end of the street where the woods was. Right where the cat had disappeared.

Once he had stepped his way into the forest, there was a slight shift in the air. His feet crunched on pine needles as the sound of birds echoed throughout the woods. The sound of a small animal was leaping branch to branch, chattering to himself. Looking up, the last thing he saw was something large falling from the sky.

When he came to, he tried to move, only to find himself tied to the base of something large and unmoving. Looking up, he saw thick branches hovering only a few feet above his head. They twisted and turned in obscure angles, some overlapping over others. All of them were bent in a peculiar way, like something had been sitting on them. Bright lime, fern, and pear green oak leaves provided his eyes shade from the bright sunlight. It was a large oak tree.

He looked around himself. In fact, it was a forest of trees. Most of them oak, maple, and pine. Each of them seemed to be otherwise normal, except for the ones to the edge of the forest. They all had that strange, oddly curved shape hidden within the leaves.

That surprisingly wasn’t the strangest part of his day. He looked up from himself to find squirrels surrounding him.

Now, it’s one thing to find a grouping of squirrels out together in the woods. It’s another thing entirely when there’s enough to fill an army.

Colby jolted upright in fright. It was at that point he had a better look at them. There were mostly gray squirrels with white bellies. Orange flecks covered part of their fur—focusing around their snouts, ears, knees, and tails. Some were red squirrels, covered in an orange-red sheen. A few had brownish-black tails and ear tips instead of red ones. All had the same white bellies as the gray ones. He squinted into the crowd. Was that squirrel pink?

It didn’t matter what it was, because the next thing they did was leap towards him.

Bracing himself for the worse, he closed his eyes preparing for whatever squirrels were known to be doing. Instead, the squirrels untied him and tossed him a soccer ball. It’s black hues were faded, while it’s whites were yellowed and covered in grass stains. Covering the ball were many scratches from many tiny paws. His eyebrows raised when he saw the blue imprint of a foot on it.

He looked at them in confusion. “A soccer ball?”

“Football!” they began to squeak. “Football! Football! Football!”

“This is a soccer—”

The squirrels grabbed small sticks near them that was a third of their size. “Football!” They charged him and began smacking his ankles. “Football! Football!”

He leaped up in pain. “Ow! Hey! Alright, alright!” sighing he said, “It’s a football, happy?”

The squirrels nodded in unison, satisfied.

“Alright, what do you want me to do exactly?”

There was a soft roar. Colby looked up and finally noticed the field next to him. There were two nets on either side of the field. A handful of skunks marched around the field with chalk-powdered tails. Dragging their tails onto the grass, they created a series of lines. One of them began to climb up the tree with a microphone.

Just then, eleven assumingly large bears emerged from the woods on the other side of a field—the sunlight giving their brown fur a red tinge. They had with them three large wheelbarrows as big as a small boat. Each one was filled with a sack of acorns and other various nuts. But it wasn’t the only thing they had with them, oh no. They also had clothing, a stop sign, and much more all of which stacked up to be twelve-feet-high. Just as they rolled to a stop, a rotary dial phone fell out, the phone tumbling onto the ground with a clatter.

Colby shook his head in disbelief when he saw the 20-feet-tall pole sticking out from one of the piles. Was that a Canadian flag?

The squirrels shrieked and pointed, jumping up and down. “Bear! Bear! Bear!” they cried out. They huddled behind him. Colby hid behind a tree.

“Alright, what’s going on??” he demanded. “Why are there so many of you? And why do you speak English? And why are there grizzly bears?”

The squirrels played a dramatic reenactment of the events that transpired earlier. One squirrel, carrying small pebbles pretended to walk on the grass, while another—dressed in some fuzzy moss, smacked the squirrel on the head and ran off with all the rocks.

“So that’s what happened?” The squirrels nodded. “Can’t you guys just have a civil discussion? I mean your both animals.” They shook their heads. “Well, what can be done then.”

They pointed to the soccer—erm football, and pointed out onto the field. There on the field were two nets. White chalk lined the grass. He realized it was a soccer field.

“Oh, you want to play so—”

They raised their sticks.

“—football. Why do you need me though?”

The squirrels began stacking one by one on top of each other, making ten “players.”

“Oh,” he said. “Of course. I’m going crazy. Should’ve known when I saw the bears. Welp, it was nice chatting with you. I need to get going now. Maybe check myself into a hospital later. If I’m not already dead, that is.”

As he was about to walk away he heard a familiar meow. He looked over to see perched on the tippy top of the biggest bear’s wheelbarrow was a bird cage. Trapped inside was a fuzzy gray thing with a burnt tail.

“Smudge?”

“Meow.”

“Smudge! What’re you doing up there?”

There was a pause. “Meeowow.”

He stood there for a moment. There was absolutely no possible way he was going to leave Smudge with these bears. Who knows what they’d do to her. They’d probably eat her for dinner. Smudge didn’t care about this. She was much too busy munching on butter pecan scones—her favorite food. Something the bears left to fatten her up, no doubt.

Just as he was about to step onto the field, the squirrels stopped him. They tugged at his pajamas, squeaking anxiously. Looking down, he saw two of them ceremoniously carrying a shoe box to him. He crouched down and they gently placed it into his hands. Removing the lid, he saw a pair of cleets sitting in thin white paper. Taking the shoes out of the box, he removed the balled up newsprint paper inside and untied them. Just as he was about to put on his new shoes, the squirrels started hitting him with their sticks again.

“Ow!” he hollered. “What is it this time?”

They pointed to the laces and shook their heads.

“You want me to keep them tied?”

They nodded.

“But I just—” They pulled up their sticks again. “Alright, alright, one second.” He tied his shoes again and then slipped them on. “Happy?”

The squirrels nodded.

Another box was brought out. Lurching in disgust, he got a smell of what he could only describe was a mixture of dirt and wet animal. Inside the box were tube socks with the toes cut off. The squirrels passed them amongst themselves and put them out, poking their arms out of the two smaller holes. It would have almost been cute if it wasn’t for the smell.

One of the squirrels handed him one. He pinched the sock with his fingers and grimaced. The squirrels watched him with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he slipped the sock onto his right arm. It wasn’t like he used it much, anyway. Tiny paws clapped together as the squirrels squeaked. They then turned and walked out into the field, each patting the top of the pink squirrel’s head. It had white patches of fur covering the edge of it’s tail. Tapping the squirrel with his finger, he followed the others.

Colby bravely marched out into the field, his head held high as he clutched the ball under his arm. The bears bellowed in laughter, seeing the human’s tiny frame. Standing side by side of the bears, he realized they weren’t that large as he thought. In fact, they were barely as tall as him. These weren’t grizzly bears at all.

Glancing up at the sign, he saw the skunks put up the team name “Cinnamon Bears.” Colby squinted. These bears didn’t look like they were made of cinnamon.

His heart dropped. He remembered seeing that word somewhere before. Sitting on the couch with his dad, the then six-year-old flipped through the pages of a big book. A large hand fell onto one of the open pages. Pointing to the title, his father read out the words written on the page: Cinnamon Bears, a subspecies of black bear. Often confused for brown bears. Considered dangerous because of this.

They stood out on the field waiting. Then, up popped a small mole dressed in a referee outfit, holding a clipboard and a small whistle. The mole chattered, the other animals nodding along, while Colby just stood there, confused.

After making his little speech, the mole tweeted his whistle and the game began. Everything certainly seemed to play out as a normal sport, despite the circumstances. They passed the ball for a bit, Colby moving as fast as he could. His heart beat fast and his breath quickened. The one thing he forgot about sports—training. He wasn’t exactly built for this sort of thing, and it showed.

One of the bears shot the ball towards one of the squirrel bunches. When the ball made contact, it sent the squirrels flying. The bears continued rushing them, knocking them every which way. There were squirrels on the grass. Squirrels in the mud. Some squirrels even were thrown into the trees. Kicking the ball through the net, the bears cheered, high fiving each other. A skunk sitting up on the tally board check marked a point for the bears.

“Hey!” Colby shouted. “That’s a foul!” He turned and ran towards the mole. “That bear over there—” he pointed to the assailant. “knocked down one of my teammates.”

The mole shook his head and handed him a green leaf.

When they began to play again, the squirrels snuck off and grabbed three bowling balls. They kept them hidden until they rolled them, knocking down three of the bears. The mole ran up to them blowing his whistle, holding up a red leaf.

The bears walked back to their wheelbarrows and pulled out bicycles, tossing each one to each player. All his life playing video games and watching the sport on television, Colby had never seen bikes being used. Then again, there were a lot of differences he couldn’t wrap his head around. He watched as they got up on their bicycles, decided to do the same. Wobbling, he almost collapsed before one of his teammates grabbed his arm to hoist him back up.

They played the game for a bit. It was a bit strange, but he got the hang of it quickly. The only problem with this was keeping his balance on the grass, and the pounding headache. When he fell off his bicycle, there was a penalty. He watched as the little mole ran across the field, holding a was forced to balance a plum pie on his head. All the other bears laughed at him, kicking the ball and winning a goal.

They were laughing so much. One of the bears became confused, and forgot he wasn’t supposed to use his hands, so there was a penalty.

One of the bears laughed so hard, instead of using his head, he instinctively grabbed the ball with his paws. The mole referee tweeded his little whistle, and the game came to a stop. Rushing over with a box, the little mole approached the bear, pointing at him and then to the grass. Sighing, the bear got off his unicycle and presented the mole with his hand. The mole grabbed the bears paws and opened the box. Reaching into the box, he pulled out two tea pots, and inserted the bears paws into each one.

The mole tweeded his whistle, and the game began again. Growling erupted the bears as they bared their teeth, their claws out.

Colby was struck in the face and knocked down.

Colby woke up, groaning in pain. He lied flat back on the wooden bench, staring up at the ceiling. When he could finally manage to sit up, he found himself among rows of orange-tinted lockers. The floor was a wet, beige tile. Benches lined the narrow hallway. A shower echoed around the room. He was in a locker room. A completely average, utterly normal-looking locker room.

Wait. How did he get here?

“Oh my God,” he put his hands to his head. “I’m still stuck here. What’s going on? Why am I even here?”

A squirrel emerged from his side, and gave him a cup of tea.

“Thank you,” he sipped the tea. Ginger.

Wait.

He looked around himself and realized the squirrels were still around him. They seemed to be munching on some type of jerky. One of the squirrels lifted his paw, presenting him with a snake’s tail. Colby screamed, leaping back—knocking into the bucket. Ice water splashed onto the floor. He looked up in fright.

“Is that a snake?”

The squirrel nodded, still shoving it towards him.

“No,” Colby squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I don’t want it.”

The squirrel shrugged and took a bite of the snake tail.

The black squirrel lead the team out of the locker room. Colby turned around to see they had just walked out of the base of a large tree. Nailed to one of the branches were the words “Field Tree.”

“Of course that’s what that is,” Colby said, shaking his head.

Colby accidentally kicked the ball to the wrong side of the field. When he tried it again, he smacked it against the side of the mountains of junk from the wheelbarrows. Carefully aiming his knee, he smacked the ball and sent it straight into the bird cage. Smudge reached her little paw out from the opening, and meowed. He did it a second time, this time the cage broke open just enough for Smudge to slip through. She stepped out onto a large book, the weight of her body shifting the book just enough for it to dislodge itself from the junk pile. The book slid down the slope, circling as it went down the junk pile.

Landing onto the grass, the book flipped open and Smudge jumped out onto the field running out back into the woods.

The bears threw a fit, screaming and hollering, making quite a mess. One of the bears were so mad, Colby could’ve sworn it’s eyes turned red. It marched over to the wheel barrels and started digging through the stolen items. Grabbing the stop sign, the bear began swinging at Colby. The bear slammed the stop sign on the ground repeatedly until there was a loud pop. Everyone froze and looked on in shock as the bear slowly lifted the stop sign, revealing the deflated ball. Before the bear could react, the squirrels started to cry.

Shushing the crying squirrels, the bear returned to the pile and pulled out a mishapened ball. Taking a blue marker, the bear scrawled uneven pentagons onto the ball. The bear then presented it to the squirrels, smiling and saying, “Soccer?”

Enraged, the squirrels began piling onto the bears. Only three managed to escape, dragging their wheel barrels with them.

The squirrels won in the end, and everyone celebrated. Colby became so in the moment, he kicked a skunk by accident, thinking it was a soccer ball. The skunk jumped up and sprayed him, the smell was so pungent, it knocked him right out.

Colby woke up to find himself in his bedroom, back in the same four red walls with the soccer posters and newspaper clippings. He laid out on his bed with his legs tangled together like he was thrown there. Turning to his bedside table, he checked his blood pressure. Normal. He was just about to get up when he noticed Smudge curled up in a ball on his chest, her burnt tail curled into her paws. Accepting his fate, he laid back down on the bed.

Turning his head, he noticed the window was open a crack. There was a large tomato sat next to him, with small scratches from many different paws.