And It All Falls Down

“Ain’t no better lumberjack in all the Northwoods than Ole Dick!” The bar man at Musky Jacks always said, and Dick always laughed without a hint of disagreement.

The north bred hard men—survival necessitated a certain toughness.

Which is why, when Dick awoke with a start to a sound of fluttering, hammering wings, he felt nothing but annoyance that something had the gall to wake him.

The flutter came again, too loud to be outside. Dick gathered his bearings and grabbed the flashlight on the nightstand. Silence followed, and Dick let himself believe it was in his head. Admittedly, he was on edge–his current job taxed his bones something awful. Housing booms meant the quotas skyrocketed, but Dick wasn’t one to miss his chopping quota.

rapraprapraprap.

It sounded like a machine gun rapping against the wood nearby. He shined his flashlight up toward the ceiling and saw, much to his surprise, a Red-Headed Woodpecker tucked in the joint of his exposed beams.

He heard tearing below and he rushed to the nearest light switch. With a flick, he revealed three bears tearing his armchairs apart. Dick felt the warm trickle run down his leg, and backed away slowly towards his gun cabinet. A crash came from the kitchen, followed quickly by the undeniable sounds of squealing pigs. He crossed the threshold into his office, hoping the guns within were, though admittedly against his firearm safety training, loaded. Dick was tough–he’d defend his home to the last.

“I, uhh, wouldn’t do that…If I was you, I mean.”

Dick turned slowly, mind racing for who would, who could, have wanted him dead. No one came to mind. He was a good man; the “Never hurt a fly” sort according to his neighbors.

He turned. A wolf larger than any he’d ever seen leaned against his gun safe picking at its claws, face framed on a wicked smile.

“Look, well, I'd say it's nothing personal...but it is.”

More commotion came from above and outside. Dick thought he heard a swarm of bees intermingled by the thundering of deer hooves. He felt a fat, wet toad land on his foot and Dick kicked it away.

The trickle down his leg consolidated into a puddle on his polished floorboards. “What the hell are you! What do you want!” Dick cried.

The buzzing, crashing, and pecking stopped. In the silence, Dick felt a thousand eyes upon him. He gulped.

“Well Dick…here’s the thing,” the wolf said, circling around him before leaning up against an exposed wooden beam. “If you’re going to build a home, makin’ it out of our homes is a little… ehhh fucked up. Next time, best use bricks.”

The wolf took a deep breath in. Dick cowered backward, tripping over himself.

As he lay there, the wolf shook his head, and out of the corner of his mouth let out a tiny, minuscule…puff.

And Dick watched as beam by beam, board by board, and timber by timber, his house came tumbling down.

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A/N:

For L.C. Schäfer's Challenge below. Life always does find a way, don't it?

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