“Thieves?” Slub Glub queried.
“Furry thieves on four legs! That’s who’s making us cry,” one of the willow trees moaned, and the other tress joined in with more piteous wailing. The youngest female willow tree screamed especially loudly.
“There’s one still in my hair,” she yelled, shaking her willowy branches furiously, flinging a sinister-looking raccoon to the ground.
The other trees recoiled in fear.
The raccoon, still munching on a leaf from the tree, hissed menacingly at Slub Glub and the petrified tress, then bounded off into the distance.
“Alas! These fuzzy demons will be the death of us! Without our glorious foliage, we will die of naked shame!” the tallest willow wailed, tears once again raining down onto the swampy soil.
“Stop!” Slub Glub cried, fearing that a renewed outburst of crying would carry him out to sea. “Dry your sappy tear ducts, I will follow this crooked creature to his lair, and convince he and his gang to cease feeding on your fragile foliage.”
“I’ll come with you,” said the young tree who had flung out the raccoon.
“Good idea,” said Slub Glub, extending a tentacle. “Slub Glub is the name.”
“I’m Willowmina. Pleased to meet you,” the tree replied, and with one of her branches shook Slub Glub’s tentacle.
She bade goodbye to her fellow weeping willows in the grove and then the two of them traipsed down the soggy hill and into the shadows beyond.
To be continued.
Table of Contents: “Slub Glub in the Weird World of the Weeping Willows”
Get the graphic novel from Eraserhead Press.
Illustration & text copyright (c) Andrew Goldfarb