Chapter 2:
"I don't mean to spoil the excitement here, but uh... how are we going to determine who shares a memory first?" Ma asked.
"Draw straws?" Uncle Max asked, holding up some hay straws.
"Nah, I couldn't draw well enough to save my life," Timon said as he fished a worm out of a hole in the ground. He slurped it like a strand of spaghetti and then licked his fingers. "Even though drawing straws would be easy."
"Not actually drawing straws, Timon! Pick a straw out of these five and the one with the longest straw shares a memory first!" Uncle Max said, pushing the fist with straws in front of Timon's face.
"Oh, you mean draw straws, not draw straws," Timon nervously chuckled.
"Right. Wait, what? Look, just pick a straw!" Max growled.
"You have no sense of humor, Uncle Max." Timon picked a straw and waited for everyone else. The rest took their picks of straws, the winner being Uncle Max.
"Maybe not, but I get to go before you, pup." Uncle Max tapped the straw on the side of his nose, thinking. "Hmm... what do I want to share?" He thought for another moment, and then nodded. "Oh, I know. Timon, remember when you were 8 months old and I pulled you pups aside to learn the sentry moves?"
"Oh, how could I forget?" Timon asked with a roll of his eyes and a groan.
"Ooo, he groaned. This must be a good one!" Zuri giggled as she sat next to Pumbaa, pulling Kito and Shani over next to her. "C'mhere, kids. Let's hear a story about Daddy."
Timon looked over at her with a furrowed brow, and then nervously smiled to his uncle. "Do you have to choose that memory, Uncle Max? You're gonna embarrass me in front of my pups."
"I drew the first straw, Timon. I get first picks," Uncle Max grinned, ruffling Timon's hair. "Besides, they're two weeks old. They're not going to remember this." Timon grumbled and fixed it up normally.
"Crud. And by the way, Uncle Max, you're not my father or my mother, so don't mess with my hair."
"Whatever. Now listen up. I instructed the pups to meet outside at the crack of dawn..."
5 years ago...
Early in the morning Timon, an 8-month-old meerkat pup (which is probably considered to be a teenager), climbed out of the tunnel and stretched out, yawning. He smacked his lips and scratched his back. "Who's lame-brain idea was it to wake up at the crack of dawn?" He suddenly stiffened when he felt someone standing behind him. He turned around to see Uncle Max, whose hair was starting to turn from brown to gray. Timon nervously smiled. "Oy."
"How's that foot taste?" Uncle Max asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"Not too good, actually. But can you blame me? I'm not used to waking up this early."
"Need I remind you, Timon, about the old days when your ancestors woke up before the crack of dawn to dig tunnels? Would you like us to start that again, so you can get used to getting up this early?"
Timon sighed and rolled his eyes. "No, Uncle Max."
"Good. Because I'm getting too old for that. Now get moving." He put a paw on Timon's back and pushed him forward.
Timon started walking on his own. "What's today's lesson?"
"You and the rest of the pups will be taught the three basic positions of sentry duty."
"Ooo, the three basic positions of sentry duty," Timon said in sarcastic awe.
"Keep it up, pup, and I'll be calling on you first to demonstrate."
"Crud." They walked to a group of waiting meerkat pups, about the same age as Timon, near the rock and tree sentry point. Timon sat down with the pups as Uncle Max climbed to the top of the rock and picked up the twig that was lying there.
"Everyone here? Good." Max tapped the twig in the palm of his paw and paced in front of the pups. "All right, class. Today we will be learning how to be a successful meerkat sentry. The main purpose of the sentry is to alert the colony of intruders, predators, or weather conditions." He glared at Timon, who was quietly yawning. Max cleared his throat. "Timon, suppose you'd like to tell the class about the first thing we do when we see a... hyena?"
Timon gulped when he noticed the rest of the pups staring at him. He nervously chuckled and shrugged, "Scream 'Mommy?'"
"That's right, mister!" Timon blinked, surprised. The rest of the pups were surprised as well. "The world out there is fraught with danger! FRAUGHT I TELL YOU!"
"Oh, boy. The fraught fest," Timon mumbled as he rubbed his forehead.
"Uh, Max, we already know the world is fraught with danger. Can you continue with the lesson?" a pup spoke up.
"Huh? Oh, right." Max cleared his throat and started to pace in front of the pups again. "Now, then. To be a successful sentry, you must be alert and follow these basic steps. Scurry." Uncle Max got down on all fours and scurried on the rock. The pups watched carefully, making some soft movement with their arms. Uncle Max stood on his back legs, stiff as a board. "The next step, sniff." He stuck his nose in the air and sniffed a few times. "If you smell something, we go to the final step. FLINCH!" Max held his arms up when he screamed, as if preparing for an animal to attack. Max dropped down from the rock, took a nutshell with berry juice, dipped his twig into the juice, and used it to draw the positions on the rock. "Scurry, sniff, flinch. Memorize it."
"Uh, do we still flinch if we don't smell anything?" Timon asked, raising his paw up.
"You'll always smell something, Timon."
"You mean like the the grass? Dirt? The trees?" He feigned fear, "Ooo, look out, everyone! The leaves are falling from the trees! They're going to attack us! Aah!" A few of the pups chuckled, then suddenly became silent. Timon gulped when Uncle Max was suddenly in front of him, glaring. He nervously chuckled, "C'mon, Uncle Max. Where's your sense of humor?"
"I left it back in the nest. And you've just volunteered to demonstrate the moves in front of the class."
"I did?"
"You did." He helped Timon up and pushed him forward towards the rock.
Timon sighed and climbed to the top, mumbling the order to himself. "Scurry, sniff, flinch. Scurry, sniff, flinch." He got to the top and started to say it loud enough for everyone else to hear. "Scurry, sniff, flinch. Scurry, sniff, flinch. Scurry, flinch--"
"No, Timon, it's SNIFF!" Uncle Max growled.
Timon stopped himself, not really paying attention to Max. "No, wait, how did it go? Flinch, then sniff... or scratch and sniff? And... where did the scurrying come in?" He turned to Uncle Max, panicked. "Uncle Max, I've never scurried before! What if I flinch without sniffing? I mean, would it really matter? Would it be that big of a deal to go out of order?"
Max slapped a paw over his eyes, slowly dragging it over his face. "Timon. Don't question tradition. It's Scurry. Sniff. Flinch. Now... SCURRY, SNIFF, FLINCH!" The sudden outburst surprised Timon enough to lose his balance, causing him to fall and then land on the other side of the rock. The pups laughed at Timon's fall. Uncle Max sighed, "Forget it. Timon, you can go on home. Class, we're moving the lesson over here." The group of pups let out a few more laughs before standing and following Max away from the rock and tree.
Timon mumbled a few ow's, rubbing his head. He jumped up to grab the edge of the rock to peek over the top. He saw the group was walking away, leaving him alone. Timon sighed, defeated, and dropped back down to the ground. He looked to the meerkat-sized rock set under a few carved pictures of a meerkat's story on the larger rock. Timon sighed again and knelt down to the small rock, his father's grave.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I screwed up again. I try to fit in, really, I do. But I guess the harder I try, the worse it gets. I doubt Uncle Max will ask me to be on sentry duty anytime soon. There are just so many unanswered questions. I wish you were here to answer them for me." Timon then climbed up on top of the sentry rock and watched Uncle Max demonstrate the sentry moves, and the pups copying him.
"Scurry, sniff, flinch... Scurry, sniff, flinch..." Uncle Max could be heard.
Timon watched him, and then imitated the movements from what he could see from afar. "Scurry, sniff, flinch... Scurry, sniff, flinch..." Timon stopped and then sat down on the rock. He sighed again. "There's gotta be more to this life than livingin constant fear and being eaten. I mean,so what if we're appetizers? A cabbage is an appetizer." He dropped down from the rock and picked up the nutshell with the berry juice.He stuck his finger into the juice and then started to smear it on the rock. He drew a crude picture of a hyena and drew a red circle and line over it."I wish I could just put this tunnel-digging behind me, and find a life worth living. And maybe..." Timon stopped and stared at the picture of the hyena, and then shook his head. "I'll find that perfect life someday, Dad. I promise." Timon dusted his paws off and then walked back to the tunnels, yawning. "I guess the day is still young... I'm going back to bed." He dropped back down into the tunnel. Uncle Max watched him from a distance, and shook his head.
Present...
Zuri was on her back, laughing. "You couldn't even perform the scurry, sniff, flinch? Oh, Timon, I can't believe you!"
Timon slapped a paw over his eyes, and slowly dragged it over his face. "Thanks, Uncle Max. You've brighten up my mate's day by telling her what a loser I was when I was a pup."
"She's gotta know what she married," Uncle Max said as he gathered the straws again.
"Don't be so mean to my boy, Max," Ma said in a stern voice.
"But I liked that memory," Zuri said as she sat back up.
"You did?" Timon asked, blinking.
"Sure. It was funny." She let out a few more giggles. "I'm only sorry we didn't know each other when we were younger."
"Oy... why couldn't it be a story she wouldn't believe? Like when I told her I raised a lion?" Timon asked himself, rolling his eyes.
"I liked it, too, not because Timon was a screw-up," Pumbaa said.
"Gee, thanks, Pumbaa," Timon said dryly. He then clapped his paws together. "OK! Now for the next memory!"
To be continued...