By Sue Misao
Its’ so crazy that Carlton doesn’t have a ferris wheel. There’s nothing to do here but hang around in the sunflowers and get stung by bees and stuff. Thank goodness winter is coming to put an end to all that.
Recently I met this one sunflower, as you can see here, who went rogue and decided to face in the opposite direction from all the other sunflowers in his garden. Why do you do it? I asked. Because I hate those guys, he said. They all bunch together and talk about me and I’m tired of it. I would run away but this stupid bee on my face has got me trapped and I can’t move. How can a tiny little bee keep a big sunflower like you trapped in place, I asked. You don’t understand, he said. You don’t know anything about me or what it’s like to be an outcast sunflower with a bee on his face. You just don’t get me. I can’t move.
It was true; I did not get that sunflower. So instead I just took his picture and went off to talk to the other sunflowers who were all bunched together looking the other way.
What are you looking at, I asked them. We don’t know, they said. This dog just started freaking out on some rustling in the tall grass so we all turned to see what he was looking at. It’s a grouse, said the dog. That sunflower up there thinks you are all dissing him, I said. He’s just paranoid, they said. He’s got that stupid bee on his face and won’t turn around and talk to us. We think he’s embarrassed about it. About the bee? I asked. Yes, they said. About the bee. Now that you mention it, I said, it does sort of look like he’s got a giant zit on his face. Yes, they said. It does. What’s a zit, said the dog.
This, I decided, was a good time to leave the garden so I could come inside and write down the whole conversation verbatim before I forgot any of it, so that’s what I did and am doing now. But first I wanted to say that thing about the ferris wheel because it’s been weighing on my mind for the past 17 years or so.