As you may have heard, in his pursuit of wildlife journalism, Eli “The Fudge” Talbot, publisher of such magazines as “Beard & Coffee” and “Safe Distance Illustrated” set out spend several weeks communing with nature in the mountains, living only in Whoopi, the legendary “Singing Tree” of the Colorado Rockies. But, due to an unfortunate mojito-related injury, Talbot was instead forced to hand-pick his replacement from a list of the best wildlife journalists of our time, a list that he himself described as being “taller than a sausage.” And of all the potential winners, he picked me, Laota French! A great honor, one that I shall strive to live up to in the coming weeks. If you happen to be in the rockies this spring, you can swing by Whoopi and cheer me on!
Week One
So, a whole week living in Whoopi! It was hard at first, and almost lonely, but now I feel so at ease with nature, so harmonious, and I’ve come to see the birds, squirrels and raccoons as my friends. All the chirping and the chattering — I guess they don’t call her the singing tree for nothing! Oh, what a blessing and a miracle life is! And so many fans have come out to see me, giving me the moral support I need to stay true! Thanks guys!
Week Three
Hi, guys! Sorry I missed a week; it won’t happen again! It’s just become a bit difficult to living in Whoopi ever since my food was stolen by some errant raccoons, and I’ve had to forage from within the tree herself. You wouldn’t believe the things you see when the creatures of the forest no longer notice you. I’d heard stories of curious river rocks, creeping after chipmunks in the crisp morning air, but seeing them with your own eyes, digging holes and jumping off mushrooms, is almost spiritual.
Week Seven
Tired of waking up covered in blood-sucking insects and animal scat, I attempted to make a crude shelter from my own clothing with no success. The lack of food has made me fitful and sick, and in my sleepless nights, I’ve things no human should ever witness. The mind-blowing cruelty of the forest. Once a week, at midnight, the rabbits fight each other for money. It’s disgusting, but I can’t look away. Whoopi also seems disturbed. She’s begun to moan in the wind at night, and I can’t help but sympathize.
Week Twelve
Sometimes in life, we stumble. We fall. It’s what makes us human, but I fear I’ve let you all down. You see, in my desperation for food, I’ve…compromised myself. A raccoon paid me to wash an apple while he watched and jerked off. But I got my cooler back, and was able to salvage some of the non-perishable items. I was so hungry and joyful, I swear, I must’ve hallucinated Whoopi humming a happy tune. Yes, there’s still some optimism left in these old bones yet!
Week Twenty
Where the **** is Talbot? I’ve been in this ****ing tree for five ***-damn months now, and I haven’t seen his *** once. If I ever find that son of a bitch, he better have a big fat ****ing check in his hand or I swear to **** I’ll ****ing kill him! That ***-damn raccoon has been asking about me again. I can’t take much more of this.
Week Twenty-Six
It’s finally happened. Whoopi has begun singing to me. She sings the strangest songs, about love and longing and heartache. And about how the foxes are opening a casino near the river to capitalize on the rabbit fights, which have been drawing in bigger and bigger crowds ever since the champion, Kicksy, won six consecutive fights. Whoopi thinks I could totally hold my own against him, what with my obvious reach-advantage.
But she also thinks that Ricardo’s gonna pop the question, so what does she know? I told her, we’re not serious. Just because I wash apples for him on occasion, doesn’t mean he thinks of me “that way”. Plus, he’s a ****ing raccoon.
Week Thirty-Two
I won! I faced off against Kicksy and I mopped the floor with his fuzzy gray ass! It was touch and go for the first two rounds, but then I remembered that I had thumbs and he didn’t, and the rest was cake! Not all the news is good though. Ricardo spends every night at the casino, and I hardly see him anymore. What if he has a gambling problem? That’d be so bogus. Whoopi thinks he’s making me look like an idiot, and she says all the birds are laughing at me behind me back, but it’s not like he’s cheating or anything. Right? He wouldn’t do that. And besides, we have an open relationship.
Week Thirty-Four
Well, I finally found out what Ricardo was doing at the casino every night. He was trying to win enough money to buy me a ring! We’re getting married this winter, so our babies will be born in the spring. I can’t wait to meet his family! I have so much to plan for and I’ve got so many butterflies in my stomach, but Whoopi’s been my rock. She’s helping me pick the bridesmaids and send the invitations, and we’re having the bachelorette party at the casino. Everybody’s talking about us. I feel like such a rock star! First the prize fight and now this!
Week Thirty-Eight
Well, after nearly ten months, Talbot and his entourage finally arrived this morning. There was cake and champagne, and a big grant from the Tree Milkers of America. I felt lost in the flurry of confetti and flash bulbs, and before I knew it, I was in a limousine, bound for a hotel in Breckenridge. My head was swimming and I was too tired to shower, but we had a good night’s sleep and a big breakfast before setting off for the Colorado Springs Airport. Talbot’s been flirting with me the whole way to New York, and I find I can’t stay mad at him and his luxurious beard. He’s totally getting a hand-jay on the plane.
Week Thirty-Nine
I’ve been attending parties and lectures all week, there’s been talk of a book deal, and the town’s been buzzing about me and Talbot. Sometimes I look at Ricardo’s ring and wonder what might’v been. But then I remember that he’s a ****ing raccoon. I do miss him, though, the way he’d wake me up every morning by getting his little paw caught him my hair. And then I’d try to untangle it, and he’d bite my neck, then I’d throw him against a rock, and we’d both just laugh and laugh….
And Whoopi, the Singing Tree, will always have a special place in my heart. So I try to remember the good times, and not think about how pathetic a bridal shower thrown by a tree would be.
