Interview With a Beaver

23 Sep

We’re all trying to get greener. Why? The most obvious reason is so Leonardo DiCaprio will invite us to his parties. Despite my great success as a writer, I have yet to be invited to one of these oh-so-green get-togethers.

The thing is, we all want to be green, but not really for the Earth’s sake as much ourselves. We want to stay green so we can survive on this planet longer. If there were no negative repercussions for humanity, we would pollute forever, because WHO GIVES A SHIT IF A FEW DUCKS GET COVERED IN OIL? We only care because roasted duck tastes horrible if it’s full of petroleum.  I mean I’ll eat it, but I won’t enjoy it.

I decided to reach those who would ultimately be affected the most by a decline of pollution, the citizens of nature. I sat down with a beaver, and after several minutes of delightful banter and then several more minutes of me trying in vain to convince the beaver to hit me with his tail, he agreed to do an interview for today’s entry. I hope you enjoy it.

—————————–NATURE!—————————————-

“Hello!” I say, waving from atop a crest looking down at the beaver’s river bank home. He just looks up at me, defecates, and smacks his poop onto his dam.

I walk tentatively down the steep embankment holding my big yellow legal pad. Then, my fanny pack gets caught on a stump and the sudden halt of momentum throws me off balance. I careen down the embankment and land a few feet from the beaver. He looks so embarrassed. All his beaver friends are laughing at me. Their laughs cut into me. I am cut.

“Sorry about that. Hello, I’m Iron Kyle.” I hold out my hand to the beaver. The beaver holds out his paw and shakes my hand.

“I need this done quick, I usually don’t hang out much during the day. Nocturnal and all that.”

“Ah, I gotcha. So this is kind of your bed time?”

“Bed time?”

“When you get all cuddly wuddly in your sheetzy weetzies with your luvvy wuvvy.”

“What?”

“What what?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t understand a word of that.” I take note of this. The beaver strongly reprimands me on my diction. Combine this with his jagged, protruding front teeth and I have reason to believe that all beavers may be English.

“This when you usually sleep?” I ask.

“Yea, this when I usually sleep.”

“Good, w–“

“Can I ask you something?” the beaver asks.

“Of course, beaver, go ahead.”

“Why do you humans always laugh when somebody says ‘beaver’?” I rub my neck and look around for another person to throw this question to. I shouldn’t have told Editor that our animal interview was with some rats in a local sewer and that I’d “meet him there.”

“Well, can I say something?”

“I guess,” the beaver says.

“I ask the questions,” I say. Nice.

The beaver sighs. “Answer me,” he says. There are all of a sudden a lot more beavers *snicker* around.

“Fine, fine. OK, like, you know what human women look like?”

“Human women? I thought you were a human woman.”

“What? No. I’m a man. I look like a man, don’t I?” I ask, concerned.

“You wear a fanny pack.”

“Plenty of men wear those,” I say.

“You have a perm.” He says.

“Yea,” I say. “Yea, I do. I want to have nice hair.”

“You wear lip stick.”

“Yes, but I–“

“You have the figure of a woman.” Beaver says.

“That’s enough! I’m a man. I just dressed like this because all my nature clothes were at the dry cleaners and I didn’t want to get my regular clothes messy.” [Editor’s Note: How do lipstick and a perm protect you from anything?]

The beaver simply stares at me, poops some more, and puts the poop on his damn. He does that a lot. Beavers are gross.

“All right, sorry. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why do people laugh when they hear the word ‘beaver’?”

“Because!” I stand up, waving my arms for all to come in closer. I wave especially to the little beaver children. During the interview, quite a crowd had come out to see the human man from the information highway. “Because, your faces all resemble that of a woman’s [REDACTED]! OK? You look like a girl’s [REDACTED]. And come to think of it, you kind of smell like a [REDACTED] too. Is that what you wanted to know? God damn you all!” The little beaver children are crying. I think I might be too. I quickly get out my compact to make sure my mascara isn’t running.

“Well,” Beaver said. “I guess you really said it, then.”

“Yea, listen, I’m sorry.”

“You know, you’re the second human I’ve met and I gotta say the first guy is way better.”

“First guy?”

“Yea. He’s been living here for a few months now.”

“Can I see him?”

“Yea, he’s over there.” The beaver points to a large at the mouth of river. It may be one of the largest I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen two (including the big one). From out of the dam, comes a beleaguered, dirt covered man dressed in filthy clothes. His hair is unkempt and his facial hair is long and nearly touches his chest.

Muh...muh musik...

“Joaquin Phoenix! Man what are you doing here? Why do you look so angry?”

“I j…It’s coming fr… Well…” He takes out of his mouth what I first believe to be a piece of gum. It was an acorn.

“Joaquin. What are you doing in the forest? I’m sure people are looking for you. Does anybody know where you are?” Now he gets really close to my pad and tries to talk into it like a microphone.

Where did those sunglasses come from?

"Muh...muh music...Music"

“What? Wha…What?!” I’m actually a little frightened at this point. Joaquin yanks my pad away. He seems to have acquired beaver-strength.

Oh...oh, God.

Oh Jesus.

I back away, tripping over a stick. There are TONS of those in the forest. Somebody needs to clean this place up.

“Joaquin, I’m telling you–I’m your friend, OK?”

“Come on, Joaquin. You can trust me.”

“You can trust me. Take my hand.” I reach out my hand. He sees that there’s a piece of gum in it for him.

Trust.

Trust.

“That’s right, Joaquin! Friends.” I look around to the beaver crowd, smiling. They’ve mostly gone back to sleep. I take Joaquin by the hand and guide him back to the car Editor had recently arrived in.

“Holy shit! Is that Joaquin Phoenix?!” He yells, getting out of the driver’s seat.

“Yes, it is. Good Christ you smell bad,” I say. “Here, get in the back seat with him.” Editor opens the back door and gets in. “He seems to have reverted to some kind of animal-state. If he tries to nurse, let him.”

“Wait, what?” I put Joaquin inside and slam the door shut.

I get in the car and drive away. I hope you all learned something about nature. I for one didn’t learn jack shit. Nature sucks.

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One Response to “Interview With a Beaver”

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  1. My Favorite Posts of 2009 « Eat This, Internet. - January 1, 2010

    […] Interview With a Beaver- The idea for this blog was originally to have a blog from an animal’s point of view, maybe […]

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