The Quest of Peanut and the Sacred Daffodil
Once upon a time there were two guys named Fin and Andy, it came to pass that one night these two idiots with a shared brain between them each thought of a Squirrel named Peanut, not knowing that the other had already done something.
I already had this story written when @FlameAndSong showed me his mice and squirrels that he did for the #peanut daily challenge, this is my submission for the same challenge and is my gift to him.
I already had this story written when @FlameAndSong showed me his mice and squirrels that he did for the #peanut daily challenge, this is my submission for the same challenge and is my gift to him.
In the great annals of epic quests, you will find dragons slain, kingdoms saved, and rings carried across wastelands.
And then there’s Peanut — a squirrel whose biggest accomplishment so far was stealing half a blueberry pie and gaslighting a bluejay into thinking it dropped it.
One morning, Peanut awoke to the whisper of destiny.
Or possibly indigestion.
Either way, the garden gnomes had been gossiping about a Sacred Daffodil, a flower of unimaginable beauty and mystical fragrance, said to bloom only once every century. Whoever plucked it would be granted wisdom, fortune, and, most importantly, bragging rights.
Naturally, Peanut wanted it.
Armed with nothing but an acorn helmet and crippling overconfidence, Peanut set off.
He braved:
The treacherous Puddle of Eternal Dampness, where his tail got soggy.
The Hedgehog Hedge of Doom, which was really just a hedgehog having a nap, but Peanut insisted it was trying to assassinate him.
And the Crow Chorus of Mockery, who followed him for three miles chanting “Squeaky bum! Squeaky bum!”
At last, on a mossy hill lit by a single beam of sunlight, the Sacred Daffodil stood in radiant glory.
Golden petals. Divine fragrance. A faint humming, as though the flower was really into experimental jazz.
Peanut approached reverently, claws trembling.
And just as he reached for it,
“Oi. Put that down.”
A rabbit, arms crossed, stood nearby with the unimpressed face of someone who had seen way too much squirrel nonsense for one lifetime.
“Sacred flower, mate. Not for squirrels.”
“Sacred to whom?” Peanut squeaked indignantly.
“The Council of Garden Spirits.”
“Well, I’m a spirit. Of chaos.”
“You’re a rodent with bad decision-making skills.”
After much bickering (and at least three attempted bribes involving pinecones), Peanut slunk away.
Not empty-pawed, though — he’d “accidentally” uprooted the daffodil’s neighbor: a slightly wilted dandelion.
Returning triumphant, he declared to the gnomes:
“Behold! The Sacred Daffodil!”
The gnomes squinted. “That’s… a weed.”
Peanut puffed out his chest. “A weed with destiny!”
And so, legend records that while others sought grandeur, Peanut found something better:
a story so ridiculous, no one dared to challenge it.
In the great annals of epic quests, you will find dragons slain, kingdoms saved, and rings carried across wastelands.
And then there’s Peanut — a squirrel whose biggest accomplishment so far was stealing half a blueberry pie and gaslighting a bluejay into thinking it dropped it.
One morning, Peanut awoke to the whisper of destiny.
Or possibly indigestion.
Either way, the garden gnomes had been gossiping about a Sacred Daffodil, a flower of unimaginable beauty and mystical fragrance, said to bloom only once every century. Whoever plucked it would be granted wisdom, fortune, and, most importantly, bragging rights.
Naturally, Peanut wanted it.
Armed with nothing but an acorn helmet and crippling overconfidence, Peanut set off.
He braved:
The treacherous Puddle of Eternal Dampness, where his tail got soggy.
The Hedgehog Hedge of Doom, which was really just a hedgehog having a nap, but Peanut insisted it was trying to assassinate him.
And the Crow Chorus of Mockery, who followed him for three miles chanting “Squeaky bum! Squeaky bum!”
At last, on a mossy hill lit by a single beam of sunlight, the Sacred Daffodil stood in radiant glory.
Golden petals. Divine fragrance. A faint humming, as though the flower was really into experimental jazz.
Peanut approached reverently, claws trembling.
And just as he reached for it,
“Oi. Put that down.”
A rabbit, arms crossed, stood nearby with the unimpressed face of someone who had seen way too much squirrel nonsense for one lifetime.
“Sacred flower, mate. Not for squirrels.”
“Sacred to whom?” Peanut squeaked indignantly.
“The Council of Garden Spirits.”
“Well, I’m a spirit. Of chaos.”
“You’re a rodent with bad decision-making skills.”
After much bickering (and at least three attempted bribes involving pinecones), Peanut slunk away.
Not empty-pawed, though — he’d “accidentally” uprooted the daffodil’s neighbor: a slightly wilted dandelion.
Returning triumphant, he declared to the gnomes:
“Behold! The Sacred Daffodil!”
The gnomes squinted. “That’s… a weed.”
Peanut puffed out his chest. “A weed with destiny!”
And so, legend records that while others sought grandeur, Peanut found something better:
a story so ridiculous, no one dared to challenge it.
