By David Himmel

Ah… what a beautiful day to be outside. I don’t have a lot of meetings, so I think I’ll pack up my laptop and lawn chair, and head out to the park, find a tree to sit under and do the day’s work.

Look at that dog fetch that ball its owner just threw. I wish my dog could be trusted to run off-leash to fetch a ball and bring it back to me. Look at all these people out running and riding their bikes. Is Wicker Park getting more attractive? A side effect of gentrification. There’s a daycare class out on a field trip. I hope the city worker with the weed whacker waits to whack that section of the park until the kids are out of the way. Maybe the teacher will herd them elsewhere. Nope. Okay, I hope the kids enjoy having bits of sticks and dust whacked into their faces. Jesus, how did a bit of stick make it all the way across the park to hit my computer screen. Is that a scratch!? No. Okay.

I love being outside. Love sitting in the grass and feeling the blades tickle my ankles. Ah, that’s a pretty active tickle. That’s not grass, something’s crawling on me. Yikes! What is that thing!? Yellow, fuzzy thing with a red head and… is that a stinger? What are those white balls on its back? Are those eggs? Is this thing poisonous? Get off me scary caterpillar! Go away you white-marked tussock moth caterpillar!

I flick the thing off my ankle sending it up and down where it lands under a tree maybe three yards away. Back to work. Holy hell that guy has a lot of tattoos, and on such a slim, but toned body. I could have that body. I’d need to stop getting stoned and eating boxes of Frosted Flakes. Okay, back to work.

Wait. What the..? How did that caterpillar get on my shoe? Damn, that thing moves fast. What does it want with me? Why did it b-line right for me? Oh! Am I sitting under its home? Am I blocking its front door? Is it trying to climb the tree, make a cocoon and transform into a moth? Am I hindering its metamorphosis? I had a woman tell me that once. She said, “David, you’re in my way. You’re preventing me from growing, from changing, from… from becoming the butterfly I was always meant to be.” We broke up two hours later. Three years after that, I heard she married a woman named Fisherine.

I grab a small stick and scoop up the caterpillar and turn to place it on the tree. I watch it inch its way along the bark for a moment then go back to work. Not a minute later, my neck is being tickled. Ah! What do you want from me caterpillar!?

I grab it and throw it in another direction. This time, it soars farther—about twenty or twenty-five feet to the sidewalk. I watch it. Damn, that thing can move. And it’s heading right for me. I can track it trucking along by keeping an eye on its bright, red head. It’s coming right at me. Two minutes and it’s here.

 I find another stick. Scoop the caterpillar up. Examine it. I ask, “What do you want from me? Do you want to fight? It’ll be a short one. Two hits. Me hitting you against the tree and you hitting the ground. Then I’ll scoop you up again with this stick and fling your limp, lifeless body back to that sidewalk where a dog, probably mine, will eat you.”

But I don’t kill it. It’s not doing anything wrong. There’s a good chance I am the annoyance. I sat down under its tree. I don’t belong here. Maybe the caterpillar is asking me similar things. “Hey, human! What the fuck, man! This is my tree. Don’t you have a home office to go to? What’re you doing out here? Bored? Wife driving you nuts? Oh, just enjoying the beautiful day? Well, do that somewhere else. I was here first, nerd!”

Now I’m curious. Is it actually interested in me and/or this tree? I am now a scientist. I toss the stick with the caterpillar on it a short distance away. I watch the thing inch along the stick and head into the grass toward me and this tree. Here it comes…

Wait. I lost it. Where did it go? Is it on the tree? Not from what I can see. Is it on me? Nope. Okay. Where did it go? Did a dog eat it when I wasn’t paying attention? Did it cocoon somewhere in the grass and already fly off as the moth it was always meant to be? Did a bird get it? Did it fall into a cicada hole?

I hope it’s okay. I’m glad it’s no longer bothering me. Ah… what a beautiful day to be outside.