Viacom Suck This! Fail Toys! News Report by Mike Mozart #ViacomFails

Rival Squirrels

Chapter One

Jereth awoke a little after sunrise to the sound of angry men shouting their opinions at other angry men inside their little tin boxes with wheels. Such a trivial thing to hear so early in the morning, Jereth scoffed, and grasped the fencing he now wore like a tattoo on the side of his face. He lifted himself and, eyes closed, he listened to the world around him.

He heard a single bird twittering off in the distance. Jereth hadn't a clue what kind of bird this was, but was pleased to hear it over the simple people in their cars shouting their simple aggravations. For a second, he remembered being one of these people, but brushed away the memory as the dust he considered it. He hated to remember. He thought of yesterday as something not worth the thought of today.

Jereth was not unhappy in his tiny role as a traveler. There was much he enjoyed moving from one place to another, and constantly moving kept his yesterdays at bay. He once wished that they had never happened, but there was little point in wishing.

Jereth began this day's journey. He passed hot dog vendors, and pretzel vendors, and newspaper vendors. He passed young men in their finely tailored suits, young ladies and their yipping little dogs, and more men in fancy black uniforms with fancy black hats and sunglasses. The latter of which kept a close eye on Jereth whenever he passed.

He kept on his way, trudging through last nights snow, and the disgusting slush made by the cars. He looked up at the buildings in awe. He always liked seeing these buildings towering above him like kings or gods. It made him feel protected in some way, more so than the little men and their fancy hats and sunglasses.

Jereth saw a man sleeping on a park bench. The man had covered himself with newspapers. Jereth smiled. He was not happy to see someone is such a position. He was happy about what might happen next. Jereth stood watching for a second as he lit himself a cigarette. He tapped the man on the shoulder, who woke up rather cross.

The man demanded Jereth tell him who he was, and why he had awakened him. Jereth just smiled, and held out an Altoids tin filled with cigarettes. The man took one, and thanked him. Jereth leaned in, and lit the cigarette for him, then leaned back.

Jereth said nothing for some time as his companion serenely drew each smokey breath. "Sir, my name is Jereth."

The man grunted "Richard" and nodded his head in a belated greeting.

"I wish to make you an offer. I know of a place that will take you in. They will give you food, cloths, and a place to sleep."

Grunting again, the man asks "what will I have to do?".

"Most of the work is gardening, and fixing up the place you will be staying, but there is some community work they do as well. There is little more I can tell you. Here." Jereth takes out a little box no larger than that of a wedding ring, and hands it to Richard. Saying nothing more, he rose to his feet, and walked away, listening behind him. Jereth can hear Richard open the box, and unfold a piece of paper. He hears nothing more as he was too far away.

This was Jereth's job. If anyone would ask, these people were his employers, but it was entirely his making. Jereth, who refused every hint of his past, was spending his life trying to make up for it. He was far enough away now that his mystique would not be tarnished. He glanced back at the bench. Richard was gone. Jereth smiled.

Chapter: Preface

Jereth sits listening to the cracking of the frozen branches above him. He can hear birds in the distance and water gurgling under the ice in a nearby brook. He only liked the woods in the winter, being slightly phobic of bugs and spiders.

Eyes closed, he takes a deep cold breath and feels his chest tighten and his ears tingle from the breeze. His legs now completely numb from the snow cross under him as he imagines the world around him. His eyes still closed he sees a puff of snow drift off a branch high above from the wind. He sees the sunlight shimmer off a mound of snow so brightly, he unconsciously winces from the light.

This daily routine of his was tough on the skin, but great for his mind. His was a rage full soul, and until he began this method of relaxation, there was little to soften his heart. A vagabond, Jereth traveled an endless path. He was unsure if he was running from something or toward something. All he understood was he must continue.

A small twig above him snaps from the weight of the snow, and Jereth is sprinkled with it. The snowflakes seem as cold pin pricks that shatter his concentration. He opens his eyes and peers around. There is alarmingly little to see as one of his visions is proven true. He is blinded by the sunlight glistening off the snow, and he stumbles to his feet. Both legs asleep, it takes longer than he would like to stabilize, and he falls backward into the cold snow. Up on his feet once again, he shuffles forward into the dusk, wondering where he would bed down for the night.

The small wooded area was very nice, but surrounded by loud and intruding city. Sirens wailed from seemingly every direction, and the sound attacked his senses. Normally, he loved the stark emotion and grime of the inner city, but, after a session it seemed that much more dismal. Jereth walked passed a couple leaning against one another and smiled. Seeing this was worth it. Still a bit numb from the cold, his feet clumsily clomped underneath him as he shuffled along the sidewalk looking for a nice dark alley to sleep. He found one.

Water dripped on him from the building above, and he hoped it was melted snow but decided to shift a few feet to the left just in case. Not your average hobo, Jereth opened his bag and brought out a very nice sleeping bag. He laid to rest in the corner of a building and a large fence that seemed to flex with the slight weight of his torso. He felt the wire of the fence pushing into his head, but was rather used to it, and it barely registered.

The minutes flew by as he drifted into his slumber. He listened to the dripping of what he hoped was melting snow. He listened to papers and an empty bag of chips wrestle in the wind. In the distance he heard a couple arguing, but by the time they were near enough to hear clearly, he was asleep. His last thought was the crackling of the ice in that nice wooded area. He hoped his dreams would be as pleasant.