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CAMP BROCCOLI Senior Camp Season Two
Paperback
Series: Camp Broccoli, Book 2
Please select the version of book you would like to purchase.
ISBN13: 9798180583871
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Jun 7 2026
Pages: 150
Weight: 0.42
Height: 0.38 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Jun 7 2026
Pages: 150
Weight: 0.42
Height: 0.38 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
Fun seeking seniors are not the forest's only dwellers. For hiding in the trunk of one of the trees is a hole. And centered in the hole's round shadow is a small brown head with big eyes, tiny black nose, big teeth and very alert ears.
The little animal's full focus is on the bright sun's seemingly magical rise above the tall snow covered peaks...when suddenly... CLICK! The surprised creature urgently squeals.
The little animal's full focus is on the bright sun's seemingly magical rise above the tall snow covered peaks...when suddenly... CLICK! The surprised creature urgently squeals.
Yikes! Wilma, wake up! Spring is here! It's the equinox! The equinox! The sun has crossed the equator and is headed north! Spring is here! Wake up! We're all doomed!
From beneath a mound of dark fur burrowed deep in a pile of leaves came an irritated moan.
What? Who? Who's here?
The squeaky voice excitedly added.
Wake up! Wake up! You got to see this! It's the spring equinox! It's here! I heard the gate lock CLICK! The equinox is upon us! The geriatrics are coming! The geriatrics! We are doomed!
From inside the soft furry mound a brown eye barely opened, blinked, squeezed tight then opened again.
Albert, you're an idiot. We are not doomed due to geriatrics. If anything, we are blessed by these old folks' habits of hand feeding us lots of goodies and losing their socks, gloves, hankies, rags and paper trash for us to comfort our cold winter beds with. For squirrels, geriatrics are a dream come true. Not doom. Nope. Now, shut your noise, shut the door and come back to bed! It's cold. Way too cold for spring!
Albert stuck his head out of the hole, sniffed the air then quickly retracted back into the hole to give Wilma a gentle shake.
Wilma, wake up! I'm telling you, spring is here! I can smell the ice thawing! I can hear the cracking of icicles snapping! Get up! We've lots of things to do!
From beneath her warm, comfy blanket of soft leaves, an old wool sock and a torn mitten an irritated Wilma voiced her objections.
Albert, first, you can't smell thawing. You can hear thawing. You can see thawing. But you can't smell thawing. Second, the gate lock clicking open only means the groundskeeper is preparing for the arrival of the geriatrics, not that the noisy old farts are actually here. Third, the cracking noises that you hear are not icicles. They are me sharpening my claws for I am very seriously considering altering your manhood if you don't shut up and leave me alone. Now, go outside and pester a bug or bird or maybe a snail. I've got sleeping to do...uninterrupted!
Albert briefly stared with shock at Wilma's attitude before suddenly exiting out through the hole; the entrance to his tree home.
Balancing on the end of a nearby limb was a crow...motionless, eyes closed, ignoring the chill in a gentle morning breeze blowing his feathers.
Albert jumped on the crow's limb to shake it violently.
Sam! Sam! Wake up! Wake up! Sound the alarm! The geriatrics are coming!
The crow's eyes shot open as he hopped and fluttered above the limb. And with an agitated shrill caw...
What? Who's coming? Where?
An excited Albert continued his ranting.
Spring equinox is here! I heard the lock on the gate CLICK! That means the old geriatrics are coming! They're coming! We're doomed! You got to sound the alarm! Warn the forest! Sound the alarm! Hurry!
From beneath a mound of dark fur burrowed deep in a pile of leaves came an irritated moan.
What? Who? Who's here?
The squeaky voice excitedly added.
Wake up! Wake up! You got to see this! It's the spring equinox! It's here! I heard the gate lock CLICK! The equinox is upon us! The geriatrics are coming! The geriatrics! We are doomed!
From inside the soft furry mound a brown eye barely opened, blinked, squeezed tight then opened again.
Albert, you're an idiot. We are not doomed due to geriatrics. If anything, we are blessed by these old folks' habits of hand feeding us lots of goodies and losing their socks, gloves, hankies, rags and paper trash for us to comfort our cold winter beds with. For squirrels, geriatrics are a dream come true. Not doom. Nope. Now, shut your noise, shut the door and come back to bed! It's cold. Way too cold for spring!
Albert stuck his head out of the hole, sniffed the air then quickly retracted back into the hole to give Wilma a gentle shake.
Wilma, wake up! I'm telling you, spring is here! I can smell the ice thawing! I can hear the cracking of icicles snapping! Get up! We've lots of things to do!
From beneath her warm, comfy blanket of soft leaves, an old wool sock and a torn mitten an irritated Wilma voiced her objections.
Albert, first, you can't smell thawing. You can hear thawing. You can see thawing. But you can't smell thawing. Second, the gate lock clicking open only means the groundskeeper is preparing for the arrival of the geriatrics, not that the noisy old farts are actually here. Third, the cracking noises that you hear are not icicles. They are me sharpening my claws for I am very seriously considering altering your manhood if you don't shut up and leave me alone. Now, go outside and pester a bug or bird or maybe a snail. I've got sleeping to do...uninterrupted!
Albert briefly stared with shock at Wilma's attitude before suddenly exiting out through the hole; the entrance to his tree home.
Balancing on the end of a nearby limb was a crow...motionless, eyes closed, ignoring the chill in a gentle morning breeze blowing his feathers.
Albert jumped on the crow's limb to shake it violently.
Sam! Sam! Wake up! Wake up! Sound the alarm! The geriatrics are coming!
The crow's eyes shot open as he hopped and fluttered above the limb. And with an agitated shrill caw...
What? Who's coming? Where?
An excited Albert continued his ranting.
Spring equinox is here! I heard the lock on the gate CLICK! That means the old geriatrics are coming! They're coming! We're doomed! You got to sound the alarm! Warn the forest! Sound the alarm! Hurry!
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