Fragments from books that don’t exist: We Are The Chameleon

wearethechameleon

We assumed that by the end of the third week we would have arrived at Saint Bonaventure’s Mission Palace Hotel, but instead we were still knee-deep in the thickets of the Grange. The drones were unable to rise above the canopy but at least it kept the rain from reaching the ground except through the incessant drip, drip, dripping from the leaves. Maurice had not yet found the answer to his query, and kept repeating the same phrases over and over in his bleak, mechanical way. We were all more than a little sick of the little bastard, but since he had been blessed by the One True Tiger we had no choice but to take turns carrying him in his velvet sack on our shoulders. Occasionally one of us would “inadvertently” swing and bump him up against a shrub or a tree trunk just to get a change in tone. We had almost lost track of time, or maybe we had, it was difficult to know. In the morning we would agree that it was Thursday or maybe Tuesday and just go on like that. The nights were the longest. Although it was warm enough, we were hungry all the time, as there are only so many cicadas one can eat before one succumbs to a craving for jujubees. We told ourselves that the situation could only improve, but then little Georgina found the carcass, and we all had to stop and wonder.We assumed that by the end of the third week we would have arrived at Saint Bonaventure’s Mission Palace Hotel, but instead we were still knee-deep in the thickets of the Grange. The drones were unable to rise above the canopy but at least it kept the rain from reaching the ground except through the incessant drip, drip, dripping from the leaves. Maurice had not yet found the answer to his query, and kept repeating the same phrases over and over in his bleak, mechanical way. We were all more than a little sick of the little bastard, but since he had been blessed by the One True Tiger we had no choice but to take turns carrying him in his velvet sack on our shoulders. Occasionally one of us would “inadvertently” swing and bump him up against a shrub or a tree trunk just to get a change in tone. We had almost lost track of time, or maybe we had, it was difficult to know. In the morning we would agree that it was Thursday or maybe Tuesday and just go on like that. The nights were the longest. Although it was warm enough, we were hungry all the time, as there are only so many cicadas one can eat before one succumbs to a craving for jujubees. We told ourselves that the situation could only improve, but then little Georgina found the carcass, and we all had to stop and wonder.

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