“Yinney” – Chapter 17

 Turns out it was a good thing Jag moved on because Yinney was feeling the urge. The urge to poo was very predictable as far as it happening every seven days, like clockwork. But what time of day, that was not predictable.

Soon after the macaws left, the urge began. Slowly down the tree he made his way to perform his 7th Day duty, fertilizing his sacred tree. As he surveyed the jungle below, he saw no sign of danger. However, most predators were very good at remaining invisible. The need to poo was the most dangerous thing he did, and it happened every seven days.

Yinney did not even know Jag had been there just one hour ago. A sloth never indicated if he was in the need to poo, for if he did, a predator on the ground would simply wait for his easy meal to come down out of the tree. So he always acted as if he were simply slowly moving about, but of course, once his moving grew closer to the ground, this would cause any predator to hang around.

Yinney started moving outward and upward. This was meant to fool a waiting predator. As a matter of fact, by the time he would finally reach the ground, probably about two hours would pass. Yinney could hold it! And this was the way of survival for a sloth. Never get in a hurry about anything.

Jag was not thinking about the sloth anymore. He had moved on and the gnawing in his belly almost hurt, he was so hungry! He had urges of his own, the never ending hunger. It was a relentless cycle of feast and famine. He would endure the pain until he made his kill, then he would feast.

He eyed a fat monkey on the ground ahead. It was plump enough, but was it slow enough? Was it distracted enough by whatever it was fiddling with? Silently he worked his way through the shadows, making use of every dark spot he could camouflage into. He was the grim reaper of the jungle.

If he took too long the monkey would move. They are known for moving a lot. Jag eyed the prey, drool formed in his mouth and began dripping. He could taste the thing. Had it not been a fat monkey, he would have passed on by, but this one had some meat to offer.

Suddenly leaping out of the last dark spot he could find, he made his move! The monkey screamed in terror, also warning all those around. If he could only gain another two seconds the fat monkey would be his! But no… not this time. His claws slashing through the air came up empty, and now the fat monkey was screaming at him from the trees. Mocking him as he slinked away. “Next time monkey,” he snarled. “Just get a little fatter and slower. I’ll have you, and when I do, I’ll rip you to shreds, and have my feast at your expense.”

The hunger continued driving him. He would not rest until he fed. Another hour of hunting crept by. Finally the jungle offered a real prize, a capybara!

Jag froze the moment he spotted the capybara, but had he been seen? The very large rodent had been eating grass as usual, but suddenly stopped, lifted his head and began testing the winds. Had the creature sensed him?

The Amazon had the largest rodent in the world, the capybara. They could get up to one-hundred and fifty pounds, but this one was more like one-hundred. Jag always preferred the kill of a vegetarian to a carnivore. Carnivores fight back, but the vegetarians are a safe bet. Plenty to eat and little danger. More than he would eat on this one. But that didn’t matter. He would feast! He would satisfy his hunger.

“Yes,” Jag silently bragged, “why fight another predator when you can slaughter a peace-loving vegetarian?” he laughed to himself, thinking himself so wise.

Finally the beast went back grazing. Now Jag could begin to do what he did best. He had a serious contender here. The game was on.

When Jag finally made his move there was little doubt of his success. His final leap came squarely down upon the back of the beast and his fangs instantly sank deep into the spine, on back of the neck. There was a snapping sound. The capybara helplessly paralyzed, and Jag began ripping, shredding, feasting, and gloating! At last the craving would go away for a little while, and he would feel good. He would be satisfied, until the craving began again, and so would the hunt.

Yinney finished pooing. He peacefully scratched some dirt over the poo and thanked the Creator for his 7th Day Tree. Now he could head out tomorrow on the first of his three day voyages. Three days outward, and three days traveling back, allowing plenty of time to poo here again in seven days. But as for the rest of today? Yinney looked at his lagoon and decided a swim would be nice. Slowly he traveled the few feet and entered in.

Once again Jag had proven his ability to thrive. He did not care others would eat what he left. He had his fill. Now was time to sleep and enjoy his satisfaction for as long as it could last. So with a final declaration of conquest, he gave his jaguar cry before disappearing one more time into the shadows.

And so it was another day in the jungle. The killers feasted on any they could catch. Whether it be a sloth pooing, a monkey playing, a capybara grazing, it did not matter. If the victim was foolish enough to be caught in a moment of weakness, they would pay the price. And is it any different in the land of man? You’re caught in a moment of vulnerability. Your car breaks down. Your health fails. You lose your job. How many predators are just waiting for you to come down out of your tree to fix your need?

Some very successful people pride themself on how smart they have been to set themself up as the hunter, the predator, not the prey. Fortunately, there are good people out there, if you can find them, or fix it yourself. Or somehow do without. Who needs those very expensive meds anyway? No one lives forever, right? God sets on his throne seeing all. The predators will know one day, that nothing goes unrecorded, or unrewarded, whether good or bad.

Yinney saw the tree below and began diving deep to his favorite spot, where he would hold his breath forty minutes, suspended as if between two dimensions.

>The continuing story of “Yinney the Sloth who needed to Poo” is the property of Don Allen and “Fellowship of the White Path”.<