Green Paul’s reintroduction into society began when he was spotted wading across the mosquito circled stagnant swamp from his tumbledown tent positioned on a floating reed island in the Muglan Mangroves.

His efforts to snare fatigued felines from their inactive idleness was scuppered largely due to his sore shins caused by stealthily sneaking up the Eucalyptus Stalking Storks for their eggs.

Another year older and no matter what star sign or what nonsensical astrology one may or may not follow, age catches up with one, and sooner or later eating at a table seems sensible, probably even pleasurable.

Some Boisterous fishermen had taken to throwing sardines and mackerel tangled in their Green Nets to Green Paul, who watched from the Green Reeds, Teasing him and taunting him with cruel Hunger Games for weeks leading into months , until he  succumbed and would scramble out, grab the fish and jump back into the river, to hide beside the restaurants in the stagnant water where the bread and napkins were thrown.

After eating he was often seen running off into the thicket covered in soggy bread and napkins, where afterwards he could be glimpsed drying himself in the beating sun while birds pecked at the bread.

“But what of the Snicker Nicker?” I hear you ask. Well this time, let’s say I got a little ahead of myself, the tale of Green Paul is a long and epic one, and this one can wait.