Andrew's Stories

For the first time in as long as anyone could remember, Walter the wombat emerged from his burrow in broad daylight. The sun hung high in the sky, glaring down with its usual Australian ferocity, but the urgency of the situation left no room for the comfort of night. His movements were slow and deliberate as he crossed the dry earth, but the old wombat’s eyes were sharp, set with determination.

Bruce spotted him first, surprised to see Walter so exposed. He had been pacing again, worry etched into his every move, while Doreen rested nearby, watching Little Bruce sleep in her pouch. George, ever restless, was fidgeting by the shade of a eucalyptus tree, kicking up dust with his hind legs. Fred was perched high on a branch, but his beady eyes missed nothing.

Walter approached them, his shadow stretching out under the fierce sun. He stopped, his wise old face drawn tight with thought. “This can’t wait until nightfall,” he said, his deep voice carrying a weight that stilled the group. Bruce, Doreen, and George turned to listen, and even Fred fluttered down to join them, his white feathers shimmering in the light.

“We need to hold an election,” Walter continued, his eyes scanning each of them. “There’s only one way to resolve this, once and for all. We need to decide who will be our leader.”

Bruce, ever the symbol of strength, frowned, his brow furrowed. “A leader? But I thought—”

Walter interrupted, his voice firm. “Rocky’s return has unsettled everyone. The kangaroos are divided. Some remember him as a strong fighter, a rogue they admired. Others follow you, Bruce, but fear your resolve is cracking. We can’t afford this confusion. If Rocky makes his move before we’re united, he’ll tear this place apart.”

George perked up, eager for action. “Then I’ll fight him! I’m ready!”

Walter shook his head. “This isn’t about fighting, George. Not this time. We need order, unity. And for that, the kangaroos need to decide—through a vote. A show of hands, fair and square.”

Bruce exchanged a glance with Doreen, and she nodded in silent agreement. “Walter’s right,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Rocky’s always thrived on chaos. We need to settle this now, before it goes any further. The others need to know who’s in charge—and it needs to be done democratically.”

Fred, who had been quietly observing, hopped closer. “An election, eh? Well, that’s a first. But I reckon it’s not a bad idea, mate. Best to settle things before Rocky stirs up more trouble.”

Bruce, after a long pause, sighed and nodded. “I don’t like the idea of forcing the others to choose, but if that’s what it takes to keep Rocky at bay, I’ll stand by it.”

Walter’s eyes gleamed with approval. “Good. We’ll gather all the kangaroos. There are 32 of you on these grounds. It’ll be a simple show of hands. No tricks, no manipulation. Whoever the majority chooses will lead. And everyone, even Rocky, will have to respect the outcome.”

George looked thoughtful for a moment, his youthful bravado tempered by the gravity of the situation. “And what if Rocky refuses to accept the result?”

Walter’s gaze darkened, his voice low. “Then we’ll deal with him. Together.”

Bruce, Doreen, and George exchanged glances, a shared understanding passing between them. This was no longer just about Bruce or Rocky. This was about preserving their way of life, their community, their future. Fred, ever the cynic, ruffled his feathers but said nothing more.

The decision had been made. As the sun burned overhead, the nursing home grounds grew quiet with anticipation. Soon, 32 kangaroos would stand before each other, ready to cast their vote. Whatever happened next, there would be no going back.