Henry’s Big Fat Plan
The next morning, Henry woke up with a newfound determination. “If I can’t beat them, I’ll join them!” he declared to no one in particular, startling a nearby frog who promptly hopped into the river.
He devised a plan to gain weight and become as hefty as his hippo pals. “I’ll eat the most fattening foods in the savannah!” he thought, rubbing his paws—or rather, his hooves—together.
He trotted over to the all-you-can-eat grass buffet, also known as the Great Green Pasture. There, he found an array of delectable treats: water lilies dipped in honey, grass sprinkled with dew drops, and his personal favorite—mud pies made with real mud.
As he began to feast, Greta wandered by, balancing a stack of lily pads on her head like a hat. “Morning, Henry! Starting the day off with a feast, I see.”
“Yep! Gotta bulk up!” Henry said between mouthfuls of grass.
“Well, don’t eat too much, or you’ll end up like Boris. He once ate so much he couldn’t roll over for a week!” she laughed.
“That’s the idea!” Henry exclaimed, prompting Greta to raise an eyebrow before sauntering off.
Hours passed, and Henry continued to eat. Birds began to circle overhead, mistaking him for a new hill that had mysteriously appeared overnight. A family of meerkats popped up beside him.
“Excuse me,” the father meerkat said, tapping Henry’s side. “Do you mind if we build our new home here? The view is splendid!”
Henry, barely able to move, mumbled, “Sorry, temporary… situation…”
By afternoon, Henry felt like an overstuffed pinata at a birthday party for elephants. He attempted to stand up but found his legs were not on speaking terms with his brain.
“Need… help…” he groaned.
Just then, Tobias the tortoise happened to crawl by at his usual speed—which is to say, slowly enough that moss considered growing on his shell.
“Well, well, what have we here?” Tobias asked, peering over his spectacles, which were purely for show since tortoises have excellent eyesight.
“Overdid… the eating…” Henry admitted.
“Ah, the old ‘grass is greener’ syndrome,” Tobias mused. “Or in this case, ‘the hippo is heftier.'”
“I just wanted to fit in,” Henry sighed.
“Let me tell you a story,” Tobias began, settling down as if he had all the time in the world—which he did. “Once, there was a tortoise who wanted to fly. He strapped feathers to his legs and jumped off a log. Do you know what happened?”
“He flew?” Henry guessed, hoping for a happy ending.
“Nope, he fell into the mud and got laughed at by a bunch of frogs,” Tobias chuckled. “The point is, we all have our place in the world. Trying to be someone else just makes you look silly—and sometimes muddy.”
Henry considered this. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m old, and old folks are always right,” Tobias declared, nodding sagely. “Now, how about I help you get up?”
“That would be great,” Henry said, though he doubted a tortoise could do much.
Tobias whistled—a sound like wind through reeds—and suddenly, a flock of birds appeared.
“Need a lift, Henry?” chirped Beatrice, a stout little sparrow.
“Uh, sure?” Henry replied, confused.
The birds grabbed onto vines that had conveniently draped over Henry and, with a collective effort, managed to get him back on his feet.
“Thanks, everyone!” Henry exclaimed, relieved to be upright again.
“Anytime! Just don’t make overeating a habit,” Tobias warned, winking as he slowly ambled away.
Feeling lighter—metaphorically, at least—Henry decided to take a stroll to walk off his oversized lunch. As he wandered, he heard the unmistakable sounds of laughter and excitement coming from beyond the Tall Grass Meadow.
Curiosity piqued, he followed the noise and discovered a group of animals gathered around a makeshift stage made from a fallen log and some strategically placed rocks.
“Welcome to the annual Savannah’s Got Talent!” announced Zara the zebra, who was wearing a top hat and holding a twig like a microphone.
“Annual?” Henry whispered to Max the monkey, who was hanging upside down next to him.
“Well, it’s the first one, but we plan to make it annual if it goes well,” Max whispered back.
“Next up, we have Leo the lion, performing his rendition of ‘The Circle of Life’!” Zara exclaimed.
Leo stepped onto the stage, cleared his throat, and began to sing. Unfortunately, his singing voice sounded like a buffalo with laryngitis. Animals winced, and a few birds fell from the sky in shock.
“Well, that was… something,” Zara said diplomatically as Leo took a bow, causing the stage to creak ominously.
“Anyone else want to share their talent?” Zara asked, scanning the crowd.
Before he knew it, Max had pushed Henry forward. “Henry’s got a talent!”
“I do?” Henry squeaked.
“Sure you do!” Max insisted. “You’re great at… um… improvising!”
“Go on, Henry!” the crowd encouraged.
Feeling the heat of a thousand eyes—or at least two hundred—Henry climbed onto the stage. “Uh, hi everyone. I’m Henry, and I’ll… um… juggle!”
He grabbed some nearby objects: a coconut, a turtle (who did not look amused), and a beehive (which was a terrible idea). He tossed them into the air, managing to juggle them for a grand total of three seconds before the beehive broke open.
Bees swarmed, the turtle yelped, and Henry found himself running in circles. The crowd erupted—not in laughter, but in chaos—as animals scattered to avoid the angry bees.
“Abort mission!” Max shouted, diving into a nearby pond.
Eventually, the bees settled down, and the animals regrouped.
“Well, that was the most exciting act we’ve had all day!” Zara laughed.
Henry, covered in bee stings but somehow feeling invigorated, chuckled. “Maybe comedy is my talent.”
“You’re a natural!” Max agreed, slapping him on the back.
As the event wrapped up, Henry realized that he didn’t need to be like the other hippos to enjoy himself. He just needed to embrace his own unique qualities—even if they sometimes led to bee stings.
Returning to Happy Hollow, he found the hippos gathered for their evening Mud Meditation, a time when they reflected on the day while submerged up to their nostrils in mud.
“Hey, Henry!” Greta called out. “How was your day?”
“Eventful,” he grinned, still picking bits of beehive out of his ears.
“Care to join us?” Harold offered, scooting over to make space.
“Sure,” Henry agreed, settling into the mud. It felt good, like a warm hug from the earth.
As they meditated, Henry felt at peace. Maybe he didn’t need to change who he was. Maybe, just maybe, he was fine just being Henry.
