Biting Fur

A panda escaped in Chengdu. It doesn’t put on a cute act, and it isn’t looking to mate. It bit through the iron bars, bamboo in its mouth, and headed west. Wherever it goes, it bites. Whoever it leaves with a mouthful of fur owes it a drink. The golden eagle owes it one, the wolf king owes it one, and so do the crocodile, dragon, griffin, and bison. It owes even more. Its ledger keeps getting thicker. Someone asked what it was going west for. It said, “To find my brothers.” They asked if it had brothers out west. It said, “Wherever I go, there they are.” One panda, a pack of lunatics. They travel, plant, bite, and drink all along the way. Rules are carved out with teeth; brotherhood is forged over drinks.