The squirrel rushed to the other side of the tree along a branch far from Peter as he grouched his way down the path. There was no need for all this grumbling, but being thankful he could even walk seemed like a waste of time since he had no trouble walking.
The sunrise was peaceful. The sea was calm, but he was entertaining enough demonic influences to have a whole Halloween party by himself.
Eventually – unless the slippery slope had its way – Peter would tell those demons where to go, but he did so much enjoy a whiny fit of righteousness. Like the other inanities he entertained they came to spoil the day under the pretense they were making it better.
Denise offers the prompt word “branch” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.