GETTING THE ARMADILLO OUT
OF HIS SHELL
There
are few places that offer up such a delicious summer's night as the desert. During the
day, the sun is unbearable and all the sensible animals know enough to stay out of its
heat. But at night another world sudden comes alive. And that is where this story is set;
at night, in the desert along some forgotten track between two huge patches of unforgiving
cactus.
Now, you must also know that the armadillo is one
of the creatures of the desert. He is afraid of nothing, not because of his superior
intelligence or his strength and cunning, but because he is wrapped in a hard, bony shell
that protects him from everything except the blazing heat. And it's safe to say that there
isn't an armadillo alive who has ever been declared a genius about anything. In other
words, armadillos are about as bright as a burned out light bulb, as clever as a can of
soup and as witty as a stomach ache. Except this one. And on this wonderful summer night
under these beautiful summer stars, there he was trudging along some forgotten track
between two huge patches of the prickliest cactus found anywhere in any desert around.
The armadillo stopped in his tracks to peer up
into the heavens and look at all the stars.
"Goodness," he said to no one,
"what a wonderful night. I wouldn't trade this night for any other night possible. I
wish I could take off my bony shell and truly enjoy this evening."
Now as you already know, armadillos are not
frightened of anything because of their bony shells and their extremely dim wits. But this
armadillo was not only smart enough to appreciate the glorious night, he was smart enough
to know that his shell was his only protection against anything that might be prowling
around in the nighttime desert. And as he gazed up into the starlit sky, the armadillo
thought he heard some sounds behind him. It was the sound of Coyote making his way along
the same track.
"Ho," said Coyote as he came over the
hill just beyond the armadillo. "What have we here? The sage of the desert, the guru
of the gravel, the Brains of the Badlands, the Mastermind of the Mirage? My, my, my. This
certainly calls for a little fun. I wonder if I could coax that good fellow out of his
shell and make a delicious armadillo snack of him. It would be a shame if I didn't at
least try."
"Excuse me," Coyote said at last to the
armadillo. "May I please inquire: what are you looking at?"
"Oh, just the night sky," the armadillo
explained.
"Well, now, a fellow star gazer. What an
amazing coincidence. I happen to be a star gazer myself. What a lucky accident that we
should meet in the middle of nowhere like this. What, with you being an armadillo and
myself being a coyote, our kinds of creatures don't mix well, if you know what I mean. But
here, in the middle of nowhere with no one to bother us, we can meet and talk about our
shared passion: the summer's night sky. My, my, my. Isn't that something."
"If you say so," the armadillo said.
"Only if you agree, too, friend,"
Coyote said. "For I would never force my opinions upon you. No, no, no. Just wouldn't
do it."
It was quiet for a few moments as they both
looked up at a sky filled with more stars than sand on a beach. The armadillo lowered his
head and began to make his way along the path once more.
"What's the rush, friend?" Coyote
called.
"I have found," the armadillo said,
"that those who call me friend without knowing me, really aren't."
"Oh, well, why shouldn't we be? Friends,
that is. Isn't it about time that we set our traditional conflicts aside and concentrated
on what we have in common?"
"Which is?" the armadillo asked.
"Oh, well, I suppose . . . I mean . . .
" Coyote stuttered. "Friend, let me put it this way: have you ever wished to be
free of your silly shell?"
"My shell?"
"Well, yes! That shell was necessary years
ago when my kind didn't know your kind very well. Everyone knows you have no natural
enemies and all. And may I be the first to tell you that I respect your kind of creature
fully. Well, that being said, your shell is a sort of . . . well, how do I say this? . . .
an insult. As if you still don't trust me. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
The armadillo said nothing but began walking
away.
"Now see here, friend," Coyote said,
"that's just the sort of behavior that smacks of poor taste. I am trying to strike up
a casual conversation and you treat me like an outcast."
"We armadillos don't have much of a sense of
manners, Coyote," he said. "I hope you'll forgive me."
"But of course, but of course, old
chap." Coyote almost licked his lips as the armadillo stopped in the path again.
"But let me ask you this question: on a night like this when our shared desert world
is about as pleasant as can be, don't you ever wish that you could throw off that shell
and be free enough to frolic in the desert like the other animals?"
"Which other animals would that be?"
the armadillo asked. "The rattlesnake with his poisoned fangs? The lizard with his
horned head? The javilina with his thick tusk? You see, Coyote, every animal of the desert
has some way to defend himself. Even you."
"But what I am saying is this," the sly
coyote said, "throw off your shell and come frolic with me. We'll tiptoe through the
teddy bear cactus and bask in the moonlight on the rocks near the arroyo. I want you to
understand how free I feel on a night like this. My, my, my. I could sing to the stars
above: I feel so free-oh! So free-oh, so free-oh. Come join with me-oh, and be so
free-oh."
"Better yet," the armadillo said,
"that we should switch places so you would know how it feels to have this shell about
you all the time."
"Now you're talking!" Coyote exclaimed.
"Oh. One problem: our size, my good fellow. I am much too tall to fit in your shell.
But I am willing to try."
"Good," the armadillo said. "I
have another idea. Here, we'll make a shell from this cholla plant for you. See? Just like
mine. What do you say, Coyote? Will you try it? See how the other half lives?"
"Of course, of course I shall. Anything to
help me understand another brother of the desert."
And so the slow armadillo cut the long stalks of
a nearby cholla plant and bound them around the coyote with the thick vines a marigold. He
snugged up the vines tightly until he was sure Coyote could not get out of them.
"At last," the armadillo said, "I
can now get out of my shell and see how it feels to enjoy this cool night air."
As he did so, Coyote saw before him a simply
scrumptious hunk of armadillo meat just waiting for dinner.
"Roar - r - r - r!!" Coyote screamed as
he pounced on the armadillo, except he was held back by the cholla shell and the vines
that were secured around his feet.
"I was afraid of that," the armadillo
said, only inches away from Coyote, but still as safe as he could be.
"Take off this silly cholla shell, you
walking lunch meat!" Coyote barked. "I've tricked you fair and square. Now I get
to eat you!"
"Wrong, canine breath," the armadillo
said. "It is I who have tricked the trickster. I knew you wanted to eat me all along.
But this is the only way I could take off my shell and still feel safe. I shall be going
now."
"But what about me?" Coyote asked.
"I can't get out of this . . . this shell-of-a-thing."
"Oh, I'll let you figure it out," the
armadillo said. "You'll have plenty of time to think about it, too. And I certainly
hope you don't get eaten by some other creature who happens to come along. That would be
terrible, don't you think?"
The slow armadillo waddled off down the track
holding his shell in his teeth while Coyote sat fuming to himself. And as far as anyone
knows, Coyote might still be stuck there and the armadillo might still be walking around
without his shell to protect him.
The End |
