The Great Spill

I realize it's been a rather long time since I've blogged. Sorry for that. I've been a little (to a lot) busy. I wish I had something interesting to write about, but I don't....so here's a made up story.

Once upon a time, in the land of Ortinok, there lived a bear. His name was Puffs. Puffs really liked to paint portraits. He would sit and paint portraits of himself, he would paint portraits of his friends, he painted portraits of the cave he lived in. He liked to paint anything. One day, Puffs was painting a portrait of a sycamore tree when suddenly a giant bulldozer came and knocked down his subject.

"HEY!" shouted Puffs. "What do you think you're doing? You can't do that here!" The bulldozer did not respond. It simply gave a great huff of gray smoke and went crashing back through the forest. Not amused, Puffs chased after the great bulldozer to try to stop it from harming anymore beautiful trees. He ran and ran, huffing and puffing, heaving and wheezing all the way to the end of the forest. Puffs had never reached the parting of the trees before. The light shone so brightly in his eyes, he squinted through it to see that in right before him, and all around him, was a giant mass of water. Puffs had seen water before, but this water was different. It was blue-ish gray, with splotches of brown weaving its way through the blue waves. The sun danced on the blue water, but the brown puddles did not shine. They seemed to eat the sun and hide it beneath the water's surface. Puffs also noticed that this water smelled badly.

Puffs took in a great breath of the air when he felt a presence nearby say, "Have you come to save us?" Puffs looked to his left and saw a strange bird monster limping along the sand. This bird monster had a long mouth, and was dripping with globs of brown goo, like the puddles in the water. Its left wing was dragging on the ground and it spoke as if he were gargling water.

"Why do you need to be saved?" Puffs asked, startled.

"We've been attacked by the great Spill," the bird monster replied. "He has taken over this part of our world, and we cannot fly away. It has made sure that we cannot fly. See my feathers? They used to be pearly white, but now, they are bogged with the colors of dirt, and are heavy and stiff. These are not good conditions for flying. We do not have much food left here, the great Spill has infected most of our fish, and it has killed most of my family. We cannot stay here. Can you help us?"

Puffs did not know what to do. He had never seen so many birds in one place before, and they all seemed to be covered in this muck that was infected the waters. The birds would be too heavy to carry all at once, the Spill made sure that they would be heavy. He could not make as many trips as there were birds, they would starve by the time he came back for the third, and there were many birds to save. Puffs thought that this would be a wonderful portrait, in a tragic way.

And then he came up with an idea.

"I will be right back!" Puffs shouted, as he turned and bounded back toward the forest. Puffs ran the long trail back to his home in the woods where his paintings were. He grabbed his papers and ran all the way back. He did not feel tired anymore. He knew that what he was doing was very important, and you do not feel tired when you are important. Puffs could see the light shining through the trees, and when he reached the brown-blue waters, the bird monsters were there waiting, a little wearier now.

"Here!" Puffs said excitedly. He picked up the bird monster as if it were a paint brush, and swished him across the paper. The brown goo came off like paint! His plan was working! Soon, the bird monster had just enough goo removed to be able to fly.

"Go back to my home and get more paper!" Puffs instructed the bird monster. In a flash, the bird was in the air and on his way for more supplies. Puffs continued painting with the birds.

By the time he had reached his sixth bird, he heard a sound that reminded him of the great bulldozer that had ruined his sycamore tree just hours ago. But this was a small bulldozer, and a less frightening one. Out of it jumped a human, a girl human, and she came walking toward Puffs and his paintings. She took out a small black box and pointed it at him. Then she waved her hand at her small bulldozer and three more humans emerged. Puffs had never shown his art to anyone before, he wished that he had more time to prepare, and that he weren't in such an important hurry. The humans stood and watched Puffs work, when the bird monster came back into sight with the extra paper. Fascinated, the humans ran back to their bulldozer and, to Puffs' surprise, more bulldozers pulled up to the sandy beaches. Dozens of humans were jumping out of their bulldozers with large, clear boxes filled with water, and bottles of sudsy, bubbly pink liquid. They started grabbing birds and scrubbing them clean. The brown goo was coming off! And much faster than by scrubbing them across paper. When at last every bird was once again pearly white, one of the humans approached Puffs and patted him on the head. She smiled, said something that Puffs could not understand, and lead the humans back to their bulldozers.

"We don't know how to thank you for helping us," said the not-so-monsterly bird monster. "We must now go find a new home, one that is clean. Maybe someday, the great Spill will retreat, but until then, we must all steer clear of the water here. Goodbye, Great Bear. Thank you."

Puffs felt very important. As he stood on the shore watching the birds fly away, he thought of something. He walked to the water's edge and scooped up a paw full of the brown mess and splashed it across his paper. The goo stuck wonderfully, and made a lovely pattern. He made more and more portraits with the brown goo, until he had made so many portraits that the goo had disappeared.

And that's how the oil spill was cleaned up.

THE END.

Yeah, I just made a political children's story. Deal with it.