Snail at the Hollow Tree

It wasn't until after he had climbed the telephone booth and was ready to dial-up the Smith's that Seymour realized he'd left his credit card under a rock somewhere and his shell was quarterless - phoning the Smiths was out of the question.


The good news was that he felt calmer now that his near-death experience was fading from his memory like a day old snail trail. He gazed out over Coal Harbour and the Downtown skyline, pondering his next move.


Onward and upward, decided Seymour. He crawled to the park's famous hollow tree and noticed several photographers lurking there. Paparazzi?! He hid behind a knob on the side of the tree, fearing unscrupulous "photojournalists" would accost him and splash less than flattering photos of him or his snail trail across the tabloids - he'd seen how they tormented other celebrities (he now considered himself a minor celebrity as you and others are following his blog). He struggled to contain the tears stinging his eyes and threatening to run down his tentacles as the sudden surge of empathy he felt for Lindsay and Brittany pulsed within his wee brain. FYI - Seymour can be a bit melodramatic.


Once the coast was clear, Seymour crawled off his perch and investigated the ancient tree. It had been an old tree 150 years ago when it was struck by lightening and its centre burned hollow. Amazingly, the outer part of the great tree lives on.

Alas, despite Seymour's high hopes, no trace of Pierre was not to be found within the deep recesses of the tree.