Lost in the Blinded Blizzard by John R. Erickson

. .”
    â€œAnd now Hunk captured.”
    â€œCaptured? Well, surely we can . . .” I glanced around and checked out the escape routes. The coyote brothers filled them.
    â€œHunk not try run away.”
    â€œOh no, I wouldn’t think of . . .”
    â€œHunk stay for supper.”
    â€œThanks, Snort, but I really ought to . . .”
    â€œBecause Hunk MAKE supper for hungry brothers, ha ha.”
    â€œThat’s not funny, Snort. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, laughing at the misfortunes of others.”
    He stuck his nose right in my face. “Rip and Snort tear up whole world and spit, not feel ashamed for nothing.”
    â€œOkay, let’s try another approach. You see this thing around my neck? It’s medicine for a sick child—a little baby girl-child who has a terrible cough.”
    â€œCoyote not give hoot for terrible cough.”
    â€œI haven’t finished yet, Snort, and I’d appreciate it if you’d suspend judgment until I’m done.”
    â€œCoyote not give hoot for suspender juggling.”
    â€œOf course you do. See, you probably didn’t realize that I’m on an errand of mercy.”
    â€œCoyote not give hoot for arrow of mercy.”
    I glared at them. “Rip, Snort, I must tell you that I’m shocked and dismayed. I’ve never encountered such closed minds and cold hearts.”
    â€œUh! Coyote hungry for heart.”
    â€œForget I said that, I’m sorry I mentioned it. The point is that I’m shocked and dismayed.”
    â€œHa! Coyote not give hoot for chock full of dismay.”
    â€œOkay.” My mind was racing. I had to come up with something, real quick. “Let’s try another approach: singing.”
    Their ears shot up and their yellow eyes began to sparkle. “Uh! Coyote give BIG hoot for singing! Rip and Snort berry greater singest in whole world, oh boy.”
    â€œI doubt that, Snort. You guys might be . . .”
    Snort poked me in the chest with his paw and curled his lip just enough to expose two rows of incredible fangs. “Hunk not bad-talk coyote music! Rip and Snort berry greater singest in whole big world!”
    â€œYes, well, I hope you didn’t think I . . . what I’m saying, guys, is that you might be great singers . . .”
    â€œNot might. Greater singest for sure!”
    â€œAll right, for sure, but you haven’t heard my latest love song.”
    Rip rolled his eyes. “Uh.”
    â€œBut I can already tell that you’re dying to hear it.”
    Snort shook his head. “Not dying.”
    â€œAll right. You’re not dying to hear it, but you’re very anxious to hear my latest love song.”
    â€œCoyote rather eat than hearing love song. Coyote not give hoot for love.”
    â€œBut this is a different kind of love song, Snort. It’s about fleas.”
    He perked up on that. “Uh! Coyote got plenty fleas.” He sat down in the snow and began scratching his ear with his hind leg. “Got flea right now, ha!”

    â€œSee there? I knew you’d like it. It’s called, ‘Oh Flee, My Love.’”
    They were waiting for me to sing. I could tell that I had picked . . . perked . . . piqued . . . pricked their interest. Gotten their attention. Tapped into their cultural level.
    Snort stopped scratching and frowned at me. “So? Love song about flea okay with coyote. Hunk sing about loving flea.”
    â€œWell, I really hadn’t come prepared . . . I didn’t bring my music, don’t you see, and . . .”
    â€œHUNK SING!!”
    â€œAll right, all right, but remember that you forced me to do this.”
    And with that, I sang them my latest bombshell of a song.
    Oh Flee, My Love!
    I saw her face that snowy night and felt the love bug crawl.
    As melting snow dripped off my chin, I promised her my all.
    Or if not all, then some of it, the part that I could spare.
    I offered her my