Lincoln finishes off yet another fir cone, leaving only the stem and a few messy bits on the ground. He likes to eat the seeds, one by one, from the base of the seedwings which are stuck to the stem of the cone. He spits away the rest, littering the forest floor with the brown dishlike flakes.
Then he goes into a fantasy world and pretends to be a star in his own movie. He takes the denuded fir cone stem and holds it like a king in a dubbing ceremony. Since Lincoln is alone he has to play the role of both the king and the young squirrel about to become a knight.
Are you ready?
A good bath is due, For the purification, And so Lincoln scratches, His mite infestation. A red robe is worn, His fur coat has the hue, For black shoes and socks, His dark toenails will do. The sword on the altar, Awaits while Linc prays, It should be ten hours, But that feels like days. We'll gloss over that part, A squirrel can't sit still, At least he's not hungry, He's eaten his fill. Now here comes the king He picks up the cone sword, "Squire Squirrel," he says to him, "Please harken my word." The king lifts the cone sword And whacks it right down, Upon Lincoln's shoulder, And says with a frown. "My faithful Squire Squirrel While you kneel here alone, I dub you, Sir Lincoln, As knight you'll be known."
So whaddaya think, eh?
SIR Lincoln, heeheeheeheeheeeeeeeeee!
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