Rocky Raccoon
Rocky Racoon lived under the moon, where a small band of beetles sat strumming a tune . . .
It’s January 1st - a new year and a new spin for B-Side! Here’s just a little sneak peek of some of the tracks (aka stories) in store for 2023 . . .
Curious about aliens? Me too! This April Fool’s Day check out April Fool’s the World with a prank that is out-of-this-planet . . .
Did you love reading Hamsterdam? Well, get ready for the sequel - George and Ginny in Papau New Guinea. Because they’re guinea pigs. Get it?!?!
And as always there will be some holiday classics - like a story about a turkey who hosts Thanksgiving. Except, he doesn’t know what to serve for the main dish! It’s a work-in-progress . . .
Sounds pretty good, right?
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Speaking of sound, this month’s B-Side Story is not about the words we read . . .
It’s about the words we hear.
That’s right . . . songs!
Because some of my favourite lines and rhymes can be found in the greatest musical hits.
Like “Rocky Racoon”, by The Beatles . . .
B-Side’s version of Rocky Raccoon is a little bit different.
This music-themed tale is all about a Racoon who isn’t sure what he wants to be when he grows up. Rocky knows the usual life path for any raccoon is to become a master thief. Afterall, raccoons are equipped with all the skills to be expert stealers, but Rocky just doesn’t have the heart of a robber. He sets off into the forest for a bit of inspiration, and eventually, buried deep inside an old oak tree, Rocky finds the answer he’s been looking for . . .
Rocky Racoon
By caitlin nicole evans
Dedicated to the human I love - I’ll never give you my number. I’ll only give you my situation . . .
Click below for the audio story - I asked a real-life musician to help me out playing the voices of “The Beetles”. We hope you love this month’s musical tale . . .
Once upon a forest, down under the moon.
Among the bees and trees,
lived young Rocky Raccoon.
Rocky was part of a large raccoon clan.
And every raccoon had the same old life plan.
To be master thieves, to scrounge and to rob.
Everyone knew they were born for this job!
They had nifty sharp claws and handy sharp eyes.
They could scurry by night with their built-in disguise.
Gloves on their hands.
A mask on their face.
They could crawl, climb, or squish into any odd space.
Racoons could trace scents of the tastiest trash.
They gathered up goodies and escaped in a dash.
They stole so many bits and bobs and rare treats.
Oh, the revelled in robbing the sweetest of sweets.
They tinkered with toys and fiddled with boxes.
The chewed up all food, more sly than the foxes!
BUT . . . .
It wasn’t such fun for Rocky Raccoon.
He seemed to follow a quite different tune.
He didn’t like robbing.
He didn’t like stealing.
The whole task at hand left his heart and mind reeling.
Was their no other job in the woods, more appealing . . . ?
Stealing from others was no way to live.
He thought robbing felt wrong.
He wanted to give.
A thief in the night just wasn’t his jam.
So, Rocky decided, it was time for a plan . . .
THE NEXT DAY . . .
Rocky packed up his trinkets – (none that were robbed!)
Then he went on the hunt for a new kind of job.
He would spend the whole day exploring that wood.
To find inspiration, wherever he could.
The night crew was packing it in for the day.
As a sky full of wings headed back on their way.
The owls were tired from nighttime patrol.
And the bats spent the night on the wood’s pest control.
With the sun sharp on task, it started to rise.
And all of the pigeons began to arrive.
They fluttered and puttered delivering mail.
But, the whole mail-bird gig seemed a little bit stale.
Rocky was not up for working all night.
And being a mailman just didn’t feel right.
Rocky was finding it more and more true. It was tough for a creature to know what to do.
So, he visited beavers, who were bustling and busy.
Building their dams in a fur-sweating tizzy,
But all that hard labour made Rocky feel dizzy.
Rocky would not give building a chance.
He preferred to sweat from a jitter-bug dance.
The otters – well, otters aren’t much for the grind.
But, surfing all day gave them great peace of mind.
Raccoons surfing rivers? It had never been done.
But the surf life for Rocky, didn’t feel like “the one”.
Then from the woods came a long string of ants.
Now, these guys were truly the toughest of all.
They had sandhills to dig, and seedlings to haul.
Carpenter ants were carving up bark,
And Rocky could see it was really an art!
It seemed that the ants worked just as they should.
But, would Rocky enjoy a life whittling wood?
All of a sudden his brain was a buzz.
And he moved on to see just what the sound was.
He discovered the noise in a black-yellow cloud.
Hardworking honeybees buzzing aloud.
They were fetching from flowers and heading back home.
Turning sweet nectar into sweet honeycomb.
The queen was their ruler – now that was dream.
She led all her workers, directing the team.
Was Rocky a leader?
Was Rocky a maker?
All that he knew is he wasn’t a taker.
But, if he wasn’t a robber, than what would he BE!
And that’s when he heard it . . . a singing oak tree!
Yes, this was a sound that made his heart pause.
And he went toward the song to see just what it was.
“Hey, little dude,” he heard the tree call.
And Rocky looked up at the oak tree stretched tall.
“Your mind really gets in the way.”
“Yes, it will!”
“I would suggest that you sit down, and chill.”
“I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing to do.”
“But, it’s easy, in time you can learn to be you.”
So many voices, like leaves taking flight.
Rocky peered in a hole of the trunk – what a sight!
A whole band of beetles – yes, it wasn’t the tree.
They sat singing a song: “Let it be. Ya, let it be.”
“When you find yourself in times of trouble.”
“Words will whisper, through the rubble.”
“There will be an answer.”
“If you just let it be.”
“Take a break and your heart will guide you, you’ll see.”
Rocky was intrigued by this small beetle band.
And the instruments each one held in their hand.
The beetles had drums, and a shiny guitar.
One even sat with an Indian satar!
“Are you guys, musicians?” Rocky just had to ask.
“I guess you could say that’s the beetles main task.”
“We like playing with words.”
“Playing with strings.”
“Staring at stars, just to see what it brings.”
“Melodies come.”
“And muses pass through.”
“Yes, I guess were musicians – but, its not what we do.”
“It isn’t?” said Rocky – it seemed so, so far.
“No. It is not. It is just who we ARE.”
Rocky was still feeling slightly confused.
And the whole band of beetles seemed slightly amused.
The laughed and they smoked and they started to play.
And over the music he heard one beetle say:
“If songs light you up then follow that glow.”
“I’m sure it will show you what you already know.”
The beetles, it seemed, spoke in rhyme and in riddle.
But, with no better choice, Rocky picked up a fiddle.
They all started jamming, and strumming, and swaying.
And Rocky sang along with the words they were saying.
Helter, Skelter.
Hello, goodbye.
Blackbirds singing.
And a diamond sky.
Eleanor. Lucy.
Madonna and Jude.
Twisting and shouting,
and loving-me-do.
Guitars gently wept.
Come together, repeated.
Though you couldn’t buy love,
love was all that you needed.
Rocky found some of the lyrics absurd.
Ob-la-dee, Ob-li-daa wasn’t even a word.
An eggman? A walrus?
It didn’t make sense . . .
But, his time with the beetles was time very well spent.
Some time in the future . . .
Weeks lost in music and floating on fun.
Rocky forgot what he’d meant to get done.
He’d hummed and he’d strummed.
Often joining along.
And other times drifting away in the song.
Floating on words to the top of the oak.
Until, finally one day . . .
Rocky’s heart woke and spoke.
Words, Rocky realized, had stolen his heart.
He wanted to craft his own work of art.
He certainly wasn’t much of a musician.
But, his dream had unfolded.
A different mission.
He would not be a mailman.
Or rob any homes.
He would not whittle wood.
No . . .
He would write poems!
Whittling with word.
Yes, that’s what he’d do.
“Well, it’s not really doing if you’re just being you.”
Oh, all those beetles were clever and smart.
And truly had whittled away at their art.
And Rocky - inspired - began crafting away.
He got better and better at writing each day.
Until one day the beetles asked, “Write us a tune.”
So, he wrote them a song called . . . “Rocky Raccoon.”
The whole forest loved rocking out to his song.
And Rocky felt right – liked he finally belonged.
He went on to write poems, and lyrics, and books.
For the beetles had known all along what it took.
A wee bit of patience.
A big dose of time.
For Rocky to realize – he just loved to rhyme!
Rocky did not have to steal or to rob.
He finally landed his perfect dream job.
And when Rocky needed to spark his own fuse,
the beetles new record was a very good muse . . .
In strawberry fields,
and bright submarines.
Rocky unravelled his own words and dreams . . .
And that is the story of a band in a tree.
Who taught one raccoon, how to just let it be . . . .
The End
Reading Recommendation: Since the theme this month is all about music, how about an album instead of a book! Afterall, music is filled with plenty of whimsical words and rad rhymes . . . especially when it comes to The Beatles. No, not the cartoon band who lives in a tree. The REAL band. In 1968, The Beatles released what became known as The White Album. 55 years later and it’s still pretty groovy! Check out my favourites Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, Blackbird, and of course, Rocky Racoon. When I was a little kid, my father used to play The Beatles greatest hits on long car drives to the beach, or headed to the cottage. I hope you and your little ones will enjoy some lyrical bed-side tunes tonight, too. You can even pick out the lines in the story that are straight from a song!
As always, thanks for supporting B-Side Stories and stay tuned for next month’s original tale.
