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Da Bush
The child ran across the street, around the pond, over the river and through the woods to get to her ball, which seemed to have a mind of its own. Finally, the ball came to rest in the bush by her friend’s house. As the girl reached into the bush for her ball, she came face to face with someone in there. She jerked back and screamed her little head off.
“No-no-no-no-shh,” the man said. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”
“Who are you? What are you doing here? Why? This is my friend’s backyard. What are you doing here? Did I ask that already?”
“Alright, calm down. I’m Mabuti and I’m a bush warrior.”
“A bush what?”
“A bush warrior. We’re the same as bush people, except we’re bigger and stronger and faster.”
The girl tilted her head to look at him. “You look pretty small.”
“If you think I’m small, you should see the bush people.”
She laughed. “I’ve never heard of bush people before. Where do they live?”
“In the bush.” Duh. “Big thick ones like this, so nobody can see us.”
“What do you do all day?”
“Mmm, help things grow. Mostly plants and wildlife. We warriors protect the people of the bush and we subsist on caterpillar larvae.”
“Ew, gross! And cool.”
“Anyway, here’s your ball.” He and the girl both reached for the ball at the same time.
The girl stood up straight, averting her eyes. “Are you naked under there?”
“Let’s both pretend you didn’t see that.”
She took her ball. “Thanks. I have to get back to my game now.”
“And I have to get back to my bushly duties. See you around, human.”
“Bye, Mabuti.”
He watched the girl walk away, happily tossing her ball in the air and catching it. Quickly, he whipped out his phone. “Alright, guys, I get it. You won the bet. Can I get out of this itchy bush now?”
“That depends,” a microscopic dwarf appearing next to him asked. “Do you know where we can find some real bush warriors around here?”
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Another story I wrote while I was at the garden trellis when I was having a writing craving.