by Dan Leoanrd

 

Before giants came, Tiger Field belonged to us.

Ants marched on crumb roads.

Honey hummed among clover blooms.

Worm rested deep in cool, dark dirt.

And somewhere—
where no one could quite find—

churp… churp… churp…

BOING!

Out jumped Churp.

He sprang high—
landed on a bent blade—
rode his board low—
leaned hard—
popped off the tip—
stuck the landing.

“Shreddy.”

“Morning, dude.”

He eyed the world beyond the field—
the tall blue school,
the giant’s world.

From below, Worm muttered:

“Stay low.”

Churp grinned, adjusted his acorn helmet.

“Shreddy, dude—
today feels rideable.”

Then—

the sky spoke:

“Good morning, Tigers…”

Ants froze.

Honey hovered.

Even birds got quiet.

Worm sank deeper.

Dryly, he said:

“Today... is Field Day.”

Snax came tearing down crumb trail.

“Emergency!
Field Day alert!”

Honey zipped in from clover.

“My flowers…?”

Moe buzzed past.

“Fans?”

Worm stiffened.

“Feet.
Noise.
Water…
Chaos.”

Snax added:

“Flying food.”

Honey sighed.

“Smashed blooms.”

Moe smiled.

“Applause.”

Churp’s eyes got big.

“Shreddy!”

“Wait—”

“What’s Field Day?”

Snax stood tall.

“Feet Invade Everywhere. Leaving Disaster.”

Worm sighed.

“Every year.”

Snax raced home.

“Tunnel checks!
Food routes!
Stay low!”

Ants marched faster on crumb roads.

Honey zipped to clover patch.

“Hold on, little buds.”

Moe landed on a shiny bottle top.

Lifted his chin.

“Field Day fans are wild.”

Honey blinked.

“They swat.”

Moe smiled.

“Admiration.
Big fans.”

He checked his reflection.

“Still got it.”

Worm went deeper.

Deeper still.

“Call me tomorrow.”

“Maybe next week.”

Churp watched.

Smiled.

“Rideable.”

Morning started cold, windy, and gray.

Birds sang along the fence.

Dew clung to clover leaves.

Tiger Field was quiet.

Waiting.

Then—

“Good luck, Tigers…”

Doors swung open
on the tall blue school.

Giants poured out.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM…

Tiny giants.
Big giants.
Fast giants.
Slow giants.
Loud giants.
Shivering giants
in t-shirts and shorts.
Wrapped-up giants
carrying hot bean cups.

Worm thought,

“Spring’s unsprung.”

And giant bosses—
whistling, waving, pointing—
trying to boss everything.

Churp climbed a tall blade of grass.

His eyes got big.

His grin got bigger.

“Shreddy.”

Then strange sacks appeared.

Wrinkly.
Scratchy.
Huge.

Worm peeked up.

“Not good.”

A whistle blew.

HOP!
FLIP!
THUMP!
ROLL!
CRASH!

Legs kicked.
Arms flailed.

Giants bounced everywhere.

Fell.
Crawled.
Rolled.

Some laughed so hard
they could barely get up.

Honey hovered low.

“My clover…”

Moe buzzed proudly overhead.

“Wild fans.”

Snax shouted:

“Incoming!”

Worm ducked.

“Bad foot weather.”

Churp watched—
wide-eyed—
grinning—

until one giant fell hard…
lost hard…
and rolled laughing.

Churp blinked.

“They’re not very good…”

A giant helped his friend up—
and both ran off laughing to start over.

Churp tilted his head.

“…but still love it.”

While chaos thundered—

one tiny giant
in big pink glasses
squatted low—

quietly brushing sand
from a crack in blacktop
so tiny feet below
could pass.

Snax looked up.

“Helper giant.”

Churp nodded.

“Shreddy.”

WOOOOOOOOP!

A giant sky siren barked.

Everything stopped.

Tiny giants grabbed bright bottles
from huge buckets.

Lines formed.

Bosses whistled.

Hands waved.

“Follow me!”

“Stay together!”

“Walk!”

Honey drifted near
a tiny giant
dressed like flowers.

She leaned in—

sniff...

The tiny giant squealed.
Spun.
Flapped.

A giant boss stopped—
watched—
smiled—
shook her head.

Honey thought,

“Strange flowers.”

Worm felt the ground hum.

“Mi…gration.”

Churp bounced from blade to blade—
looking for what’s next.

Then froze.

Ahead—

stood ten white arches.

Dripping sponges.

Swinging ropes.

Splashing.

Twisting noodles.

Two hairy giant water warriors—
blasting streams from colorful cannons.

Churp whispered:

“Sweet…”

A tiny giant
stepped carefully inside.

Drip.

Drizzle.

Splash.

A sponge swung.

Water rained down.

The tiny giant squealed—
laughed—
ran right back in.

Then two giants.

Three.

Everybody.

Tiny giants circled
and circled back—

“It’s freezing!”

“I’m wet!”

“Get me again!”

Some cried.

Some shivered.

Some stood
clicking their teeth—
smiling.

Honey zipped wildly above flattened flowers.

“My clover…”

Moe spun sideways in spray.

“My fans!”

Snax clung to a grass tower
watching one ant
float past in a flood.

“Scout down!”

Worm surfaced—just enough to look.

“Wa-ter…”

“Way too much wa-ter.”

Churp rescued the floating ant—

and watched—

cold, shaking giants—
laughing—
racing back in—
helping each other up—

He nodded.

“...Shreddy.”

Then—

slowly—

sprang into the mist—

high—

higher—

soaked—

laughing—

flying—

SHREDDY!

Then—

just like that—

it was over.

Tiny giants marched away—
dripping,
shaking,
laughing.

Bosses gathered them close.

“Get in here.”

“Snuggle up.”

“Cheese!”

Under a shady tent—
tiny giants stood shoulder to shoulder—
soaked socks,
clicking teeth,
arms wrapped tight—
holding bright frozen sticks.

Purple.
Red.
Orange.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

Then—

PLOP.

One purple frozen stick
slipped free—
slowly melting
into a sweet purple puddle.

Snax froze.

His ant eyes got huge.

“Jackpot.”

Churp watched—
cold, wet, smiling—
leaning together.

By evening—

giants were gone.

No whistles.

No barking sky siren.

No pounding feet.

Only breeze in clover
and birds along the fence.

Tiger Field was small again.

Quiet.

Snax led a long ant line
across blacktop—
up purple hill,
down sticky slope,
through sweet puddles—
carrying treasures home.

“Feast.”

Honey drifted low
over bent blooms.

“Strong little flowers.”

Moe buzzed by—
smug as ever.

“Big fans.”

Worm settled deep
in cool dark dirt.

“Normal.”

And somewhere—
where no one could quite find—

churp… churp… churp…

BOING!

Out jumped Churp.

Damp.

Grinning.

He looked over Tiger Field—
clover,
crumb roads,
tall blue school,
the giant’s world—

and smiled.

Softly:

“Shreddy.”