Literature
Returning from the Moon
Previous Coyote sprawled like a slice of melting cheese on his lawn chair. A pair of sunglasses rested uneven on his muzzle, one arm behind a fluffy ear and the other grasping out to the space beyond his head. A wren serenaded the warm day with its amusing cry of Shiver me Shiver me Shiver me Timbers! At least, that’s how Coyote chose to hear it after seeing that fun movie. Anyone who disagreed lacked imagination. Only one thing could make a perfect vacation better. He reached out a paw and said, “Spider, beer me.” Spider, clad in shorts and a blue t-shirt speckled with palm trees, reclined in his own chair at the river’s edge. He cast a newly baited hook with a lazy flick of the wrist. “Get your own, you waste of space,” he said. The Arkansas burbled by. Coyote’s ear flicked at the slithering of a snake going deeper into dry brush. A fish teased with a splash. He gave a drawn-out sigh. The empty cans under his chair missed their friends in the cooler, but he had no energy to