Photo – Digger

Cindy wasn't sure what her prize was exactly, but she'd never play the crane game at the truck stop ever again.

A three-banded armadillo, named Digger, I believe (he’s an educational animal from Potter Park Zoo). I wrote a flash fiction story inspired by this photo. Read it after the break.

A few docents from the zoo were attending the Capital City River Run (in which I ran), and one had my pal Digger. Watching this guy is something out of a Lovecraftian nightmare–the way it scurries around on its feet and claws will fill your dreams and twist your mind.

Ahem. Sorry.

Oh, and did I mention it can roll into a ball? CREEPY. But, also cute.

This guy can be very difficult to take photos of because he moves so fast. I was lucky that the docent offered to hold him up for a few minutes.

Flash fiction story below–remember, I write these quick and just have fun.  It is a good exercise.

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Story: Wish Carefully

Cindy ran to her bedroom in the left wing of the mansion.  She could not get there too fast on her short, eight year old legs, but it was the thought that counted.

She wore a tiny, fancy dress that was covered with spilled food.  Her hair matched the color of the pasta sauce splattered over the dress’ neckline.

Cindy’s stepmother yelled and her words chased the child down the mansion’s expansive hallway.  “And stay there!”

The little girl slammed the bedroom door shut, and startled her legion of stuffed animals.  At least they would have been startled if they had been alive and not stuffed.  Again, it was the thought that counted.

Cindy crawled on top of padded bench under her bedroom’s bay window and stared up at the night sky with tear filled eyes.

A white streak rocketed across the sky.  “A shooting star!”  The girl made a wish.  A wish for help.  A wish to free her from her wicked stepmother.

A flash went off in the corner behind Cindy.  She spun around to see a scaly, leathery ball the size of a cantaloupe rolling on the floor.  The girl shrieked.

She shrieked even louder when the ball opened up  to reveal a three-banded armadillo.

“Gah!”  the armadillo protested, as it placed its clawed hands over its wide ears.  “Stow it, kid!”

Its voice sounded like a man whose throat had been stepped on.  Repeatedly.  With golf shoes.

“Who are you?”

“I’m yer fairy-godwhatever.”

“But…you’re an…”

“Armadillo?  Yep. The  name’s Ratchet.”

“But…I-I was expecting—“

Ratchet sighed and pulled out a cigar.  Cindy was content not knowing its place of origin.  Ratchet usurped a porcelain doll’s spot on a mini rocking chair.

“Look, all of the A-List god-whathaveyou’s are busy.  I’m all that’s left.”  Ratchet lit the cigar with an equally mysterious match.  “Whatcha need, uh…” he pointed a long claw at the girl.

“Cindy.”

Ratchet puffed on his cigar.  “Right. OK, Chrissy.  Whatcha need?”  His tone was the definition of indifference.

“M-my s-st-st—“

“Get on with it, Cassy.  I’m a busy ‘dillo.”

“My evil stepmother sent me to bed, and I didn’t want to go,” the girl explained.

Ratchet jumped off the mini rocking chair and landed on the porcelain doll.  “Don’t wanna go to bed?  Heck, is that all?”

Cindy nodded.

The armadillo rubbed his claws together and chewed on his cigar.  “Piece o’ cake.”

Thirty minutes later, Cindy and her stepmother were standing outside the mansion, which was now completely  engulfed in flames.

Cindy, confused and in awe, looked over to see Ratchet light another cigar with a piece of burning tapestry.   The armadillo gave Cindy a thumbs up and winked before he disappeared in a flash of light.