John the mule had had enough. It was one thing to have to share his grazing area with all the other animals of the land, it was quite another to have it ravaged by that gluttonous elephant, George.
"Hey, lard ass, why not find another field to live in. You've been here for almost four years now and there's barely any grass left. Plus, you keep leaving those big piles of crap everywhere."
George was used to John's barbs. Mules, by and large, he found, were always braying about something. Constant complainers, they were. Besides, his father had left him that land to dwell on. It was rightfully his. Well, sort of. Most of the other animals weren't too keen on his being there either. Elephants tend to trample the littler creatures and care very little for the damage they cause to the countryside. Still, he was the biggest beast around and he paid little attention to what the other animals thought of him, especially John.
"Screw you, John. Georges have been around this land a long time. Matter of fact, the very first animal in these parts was a George. So I'm staying put."
"You forget, George. That George was no elephant, though he was known for knocking down trees, just like you."
"Elephants never forget, John. Besides, there's plenty of land left. More than enough to go around." Truth be told, George was only concerned with what was there for him. Let the next generation find another field, he figured. His own spoiled offspring would just have to fend for themselves. So George went right on eating up all the land around him, not paying attention to who and what got in his way.
"Hey," shouted Ralph, the snake, who was almost crushed by the lumbering George. "Don't tread on me."
"Fuck off, snake," George mumbled, in between chews. "Go slither under a rock."
"Leave the snake be, George," shouted John. "And watch where you're going."
"Oh shut up, John. Last week you were complaining about the snake leaving its skin everywhere and this week you're defending him. Such a waffler."
"Big word for a big beast. Bet you don't even know what it means."
"Sure I do. It means, well, um, oh, just shut up already, John. You're giving me an awful headache. Between you and that forever howling Howard the monkey, it's a wonder we get any peace and quite around here at all."
"Then go find somewhere else to do your damage, George. Jeez, and they call me stubborn. Can't you see you're not wanted here?"
Just then, Dick the dung beetle threw in his two cents. "Hey John, go preach your liberal crap out west and leave us good family folk alone." John bristled at Dick's remark. It wasn't his fault mules were infertile. And leave it to Dick to stick up for that idiot elephant, George. Though it wasn't too surprising that the two were such good friends. One spent his whole life pushing shit around and the other one was just full of it.
But before John could tell Dick where to get off, Bill the bear moseyed in and tried to quell the turmoil. Bill hadn't been seen in those parts for quite some time, but he'd always been liked by most of the other animals and tolerated by the rest.
"Now, now, you guys, let's just all simmer down. No use getting all excited," Bill tried.
But Dick wouldn't hear him out. "Look who's talking about getting excited. Why'd you come back here, anyway? Run out of pigs to fuck? Or did that ugly wife of yours throw you out of your den?"
"Oh just shut up, you old insect," John whinnied.
"Tut, tut, John. If your head wasn't crammed so far up your ass, I'm sure our good friend Bill here would try to fuck you too."
Bill the bear, who, like most bears, wasn't known for his keen sense of patience, scampered over and engulfed Dick in his gaping, slobbering mouth. Needless to say, dung beetles don't taste too good going down, but at least that shut him up. George flinched, but otherwise kept on chowing down. After all, there were millions of Dicks out there to take his place. He was sure that army ant, Wesley, would stand by his side, eventually.
Unfortunately, Al the anteater, who was usually the preacher of peace in the valley, acted on impulse and sucked Wesley up in his long snout. Nope, thought George, looks like Wesley's out too. "Screw these animals anyway. Who needs 'em? With all this weight I have to throw around, they'll be hard pressed to ever get rid of me."
"Don't be so sure, George. Don't be so sure," John muttered under his breath. "After all, greater animals than you have fallen before."
That's when John had a brilliant idea. Mules, he remembered, are renowned pack animals and are capable of hauling great loads over long distances. With the help of his mule family, he was sure to be able to topple the giant.
Later that night he put his plan into action. All the mules and quite a few of the other animals got together and, one by one, hauled upstream every rock they could find. They then proceeded to dam the river that ran through their land. The largest boulder was placed in the center and a sturdy vine was wrapped around and around it. And, by dawn, the river had stopped flowing downstream.
"What the hell?" George said, when he went down to the river that morning to get himself a drink.
John was there waiting for him and faked a look of bewilderment as well. "Beats me, George. Wait here and I'll go have a look." Now, George hated to be told what to do, especially by the likes of John, but he was thirsty, after all, and he figured that he might as well wait and be the first to find out what was wrong.
John then ran as fast as his mule legs could carry him up to the nearest hill and gave the signal to Bill, who with all his bear might, pulled and pulled on that massive vine until, finally, the middle boulder started to give.
"Just wait right there, George," John shouted down. "I think I see the problem." The dimwitted George nodded and waited patiently for the ass to return.
The rumble he heard a short while later, he figured, was coming from his stomach. He was seriously hungry and thirsty by that point. "Hurry up, John. I'm thirsty as hell."
"Just one more minute, George, and I promise you'll have all the water you need." Again, George nodded and waited.
And then, with a powerful roar, the likes of which no animal had ever heard before, the river broke from its constraints and came pouring through the valley and straight towards the slow moving George. Biggest, after all, rarely means fastest. And, large as George was, he was no match for that mighty river. WHOOSH, he was picked up and carried out by the surge of all that wonderful, blue water.
John watched from up high and kicked up his hooves when he saw the outcome of his plan. George wasn't coming back anytime soon, that was for sure. Hopefully, he prayed, he'd never be seen again.
A short while later, Bill the bear joined John the mule up on the hill and with a big bear grin, laughed, "Water gate. Gets 'em every time."
"Amen, Bill. Amen to that."
Rob Rosen was born in Brooklyn. He spent his childhood in the suburbs of New Jersey, his teen years in Hilton Head, South Carolina, and much of his early adulthood in Atlanta, Georgia, where he graduated from Emory University. When he turned thirty, he packed it all in and followed his dreams to San Francisco, where he is now an Office Guru. So much for that expensive education. His short stories appear regularly in The SoMa Literary Review. His first book, "Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love", was published in 2001. Check out his web site.