Lee Larson

Terry had already made up his mind. It was time for a change. He packed up his belongings, shell and all, and made his way up the muddy shore of Lake Campbell. Life as a turtle is rough, and Terry’s is no exception. His wife left him for a snapper a week ago. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about nature, it’s to never trust a snapper.

A kind-hearted and humble creature, Terry was in the midst of figuring life out. He was a true simpleton-his shell housed no amenities. This meant that time was a factor if Terry were to survive his journey away from his lake-view nesting grounds.

After a final farewell to Bruce, Terry’s best muskrat friend, he ventured out onto the road. An immediate sense of paranoia set in and Terry felt his shell quiver. He ducked inside to gather his emotions. It was time to move on. “Forget about it. Forget about her,” Terry told himself.

Two sunny days and one rainy night later, Terry found himself on the outskirts of Brookings. He felt weak, mostly because he had been drinking unsanitary water. He was so hungry he tried to climb into some trashcans with a pack of raccoons, but to no avail.

He finally made it to HyVee without giving up. He wanted to go inside, but the automatic doors were too fast for him. He was working out a strategy when a disgruntled employee approached the doors. “Hey, this ain’t a?turtle store,” the employee gruffly said as he nudged Terry out of the way with his foot.

Those were the last words Terry heard, and that’s the last we’ll hear from him. Terry the turtle didn’t live through the cool night, but the legacy he left lives on in all of us.