So I Married An Anthropologist

"Sandburg, do you feel that?" the man being questioned looked up from his large book and notepad.

"Feel what, Jim?" he asked of his Blessed Protector. Jim stood in the middle of the loft, head cocked.

"I predict a vision tonight," he stated.

"Great! Let me know what happens. Can you hand me my Blessed Protractor?"

Jim picked up the tool and tossed it to Sandburg, who went back to his frantic scribbling. Jim went back to circling the loft, sniffing the air suspiciously.

"Sandburg, do you smell acorns?"

*/He was in the jungle, armed with a slingshot.

"Who are you?" a voice came. He looked around, but saw nothing.

"I am a Sentinel."

"Who are you?"

"Detective James Ellison."

"Who are you?"

"Mary Pickford."

"What do you do?"

"I guard the Great City. Occasionally I sing and dance."

"What college did you go to?"

"Washington State."

"What’s the velocity of a ball traveling 35 miles per hour?"

"35 miles per hour?"

"Very good, Sentinel." His gaze finally landed on the speaker. A squirrel perched on a rock about six feet from him.

"You must get the acorns."

"I don’t understand."

"You must…"/*

"Sandburg!" Blair woke to someone shaking his shoulder.

"Huh? Wha?" he sat up and looked around sleepily. "Wha’s wrohn?"

"I hate a vision." Blair frowned at him in confusion.

"You hate a vision?" Jim shook his head.

"Typo by the author."

"Oh. Man, I hate it when that happens."

"Me too." There was a moment of reflective silence before they said simultaneously: "Anyway."

"I had a vision." Blair looked enthralled.

"What was it about?"

"A squirrel appeared to me and told me I must find the acorns. Or was it get the acorns?" Blair looked thoughtful for a long time before saying:

"I thought your spirit guide was a panther."

"He took off." Both men jumped and looked at the pillow, where a small brown squirrel stood, carrying a acorn under one arm. "And it’s *get* the acorns, moron. I just left five minutes ago. Geez." Jim looked appropriately ashamed.

"What do you mean ‘get the acorns’? What are the acorns? Where can we find them?" Sandburg asked. "Do I still have the wolf as my spirit guide?"

"Nope, yours is in stress therapy. He went over the edge sometime after that second Kincaid incident. There was just no saving him." All three paused and hung their heads. "The acorns are in the park. You *must* collect them before sunset tomorrow." Magically, the squirrel faded out.

"Wait!" Blair called. "Who is my new spirit guide?" But the squirrel was gone.

The next morning Sandburg woke up to find himself alone. Jim had left a note saying he was at the park, hunting for the acorns. Blair sighed and whipped up a gourmet breakfast with extremely spicy food. As he was finishing eating, his nose and eyes were running. He looked around the loft for a Kleenex. Nothing. Blair headed for the bathroom.

"I swear, Jim has some sort of phobia," he muttered to himself, opening the closet door. Sure enough, there was not one, not two, but *three* family size packs of toilet paper. "I’m surprised he didn’t see *that* when he was in the Eye of God; running out of toilet paper." He ripped open one and blew his nose. He froze in horror as his eyes landed upon some*thing* clinging to the shower curtain. Blair blinked and the thing was gone. He backed away from the room, heart racing. It wasn’t until he had bumped into the counter in the kitchen that he realized that he had seen his new spirit guide.

"Oh *man*," his voice filled the silent loft. "I get stuck with a *sloth*!"

Jim returned home at lunch, shoulders slumped.

"Didn’t find anything?" Blair asked sympathetically, dishing out a dish that was commonly eaten in mid morning by the ancient Heimlechs from Maneuver.

"No, and time’s running out." Jim dropped his head into his hands and sighed heavily.

"Don’t give up hope just yet, big guy," Blair said encouragingly. "I’ll be with you now." A short time later, they were in the park, Sandburg coaching Jim on using his senses to find the precious acorns.

"This isn’t working, Chief. I can smell them too strongly to pinpoint a location." Blair frowned and looked heavenward for answers.

"This isn’t right, Sandburg. They smell… cooked."

"Cooked?" Blair repeated, perplexed. Jim closed his eyes and turned his head to the right. Opening them, he blinked and pointed.

"There! Acorns roasting on an open fire!" A blur passed by, and Blair jumped back and yelped.

"I think Jack Frost just nipped my nose!" he complained, holding the said organ gingerly.

"Sorry, Chief. I even tried changing the line so we could be spared that."

"Eh, it’s OK. Come on, let’s get this over with." They trotted over to the vendor and bought a sack of roasted acorns.

"Let’s hope the rodent’s satisfied with this," Jim muttered as they headed toward the Ford.

"I heard that," both men jumped and looked down. The squirrel stood in front of them, this time decked out in a miniature tuxedo with a white cummerbund, top hat and walking stick. He gestured with the walking stick for Jim to set the bag down. Jim obliged.

"These will do great. I have a hot date tonight and needed some special culinary component." Before their very eyes the bag shrunk until it was an easy size for the squirrel to pick up. Which he did. He lifted his hat at them.

"Thanks guys." And with that, turned on his heel and walked off, fading as he went. Jim and Blair looked around, but the other occupants of the park were happily milling about, having not noticed anything strange.

"Say Chief, how about we get a bag of acorns of our own? They smell really good…"

The End

Hope everyone enjoyed it. This was inspired in part by my adamant belief that my spirit guide is a hamster. Eat, sleep, run around in a squeaky wheel, that's basically my life. :-)

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