In Denver this year, the fall has been extraordinarily lovely and has really been prolonged. There are still very lovely trees with leaves in many colors all over the city. I’ve really enjoyed it. I’m a big fan of fall, and this one has been exceptional.
I wrote this story for a writing exercise, and remembered it today, thinking it would be a great story for the Word of the Day. As will become obvious, today’s story was brought to you by the letter “a.”
An Animal Anecdote
As any antelope amicably acknowledges, aggressive alopecia acts as acceptable armor against attacking animals. At an acute adventure, as when an attacker attempts an ambush, all fibers abandon their abodes, allowing an antelope, blessed with acute alacrity, to avert abduction. Assuredly, other abilities would afford additional (and advanced) aid. Although an antelope’s anti-predator accessories are an adaptation likely to activate amusement, arguments can be made that “acceptable” armaments, such as those armadillos acquired, aren’t actually any more admirable. After all, armadillos aren’t attractive.
As arguing against the Almighty and all His Angels is unlikely to accommodate any augmentation, animals appease themselves with attainable ambitions. There is no assumption of adulation or aristocracy among animals. Animals accept their abilities and adversities. Humans are an alternate animal, far less acquiescent.
Appreciating that this antelope antecedent has applicability within this awfully adulterated anecdote, my audience’s attentions are now apprehended by a group of archers, with their arrows aimed at an antelope. Appetites are awakened; the audience will accept no anticlimax, anticipation amplifies around the amphitheater as an arrow arcs forward, soaring swiftly along in the autumnal air.
Arriving near its appointed antelope, assuming, even anticipating, at least a small amount of appeasement, the animal, alerted, ambles aside, admitting the ammunition to an admittedly accidental and unfortunate anguish, alighting near the animal’s arse.
As the anticipated appetizer of antelope approaches, the audience awakens to the aforementioned alopecia, and attends to a new agony: each allotment arrives anointed with an astronomic amount of antelope hair.
Having grown up the daughter of a butcher, I’ve seen my fair share of antelope haunches, which is where I first learned about this strange phenomena. Antelope hair is short, and it all gets everywhere. It’s impossible to completely remove it from within the meat, even if the skin is removed.
alopecia / ALL – oh – pesh – ah / loss of hair, baldness. Which, of course, is why the hair treatment for men is called Pro-pecia, as in, pro hair. Or something. Just don’t open the pills anywhere near someone with two X chromosomes.