Walk With George

I once heard that every man is an island. I suppose there is some truth to that. A quiet seclusion from time to time isn't so bad. I would, however invite visitors. The forest has gotten much muddier since the last time I was here. I practically lose a shoe trying to walk through the muck. George on the hand, he just floats above it. He's actually picked up his pace and is leaving me behind. "Hey!" I shout out to George as I struggle to remove my shoe from the mud. George sighs. "Must you dilly dally?" I finally get my shoe back on my and catch up to George. "I think you forget that I'm still living and I get stuck in the mud." "That is hardly my problem." I am fuming at his comment, I attempt to make a retort, but George silences me. "Did you hear that?" He asks. "Hear what?" "It was probably nothing." We continue our walking. One of us somehow springs a trap. The next thing I know we are both upside down in a net. It does not take long at all for the village of wild children to show up. They menacingly inch close to us with their spears. It is taking all the strength in me not to say "I told you so."