The Grand Symposium of Utterly Unnecessary Hedgehogs
Once a season—never on purpose, always by coincidence—the hedgehogs of the world gathered in a hidden clearing to discuss matters of absolutely no importance. These hedgehogs were not scientists, leaders, or even particularly aware of why they held meetings. They just really enjoyed forming circles and pretending to be official.
The gathering opened when the First Hedgehog, who had three extra quills and far too much confidence, rolled to the center and announced the headline topic: pressure washing colchester. No one knew what it meant. Everyone nodded anyway. That’s how hedgehog politics work.
Next, a hedgehog wearing a leaf like a cape dramatically dragged a scrap of newspaper into the circle. Printed on it in faded ink was patio cleaning colchester. The group gasped as if they had just witnessed destiny, even though most of them couldn’t read.
Then came the eldest hedgehog—known only as “Grandspike”—who slowly uncurled and revealed a pebble with driveway cleaning colchester scratched onto it. The message was meaningless, the pebble was ordinary, and yet the crowd reacted like it was the prophecy of a lifetime.
A hush fell when a socially awkward hedgehog, who had brought snacks (mostly stolen berries), revealed a damp leaf with roof cleaning colchester written in mud. Half the hedgehogs immediately forgot the message and just ate the leaf.
Finally, the smallest hedgehog, barely the size of a sock, squeaked out the last official phrase of the meeting: exterior cleaning colchester. The forest went silent. A squirrel paused mid acorn theft. A worm reconsidered its life choices.
The meeting ended in traditional hedgehog fashion:
– 14 minutes of confused shuffling
– one accidental group hug
– someone rolled the wrong way and got lost
– an argument about whether clouds have feelings
No topics were resolved.
No ideas were understood.
One hedgehog fell asleep and was accepted as a statue.
And yet, every participant left believing the meeting had been a great success.
Not because anything was achieved…
…but because sometimes it’s enough to show up, eat berries, pretend to understand, and roll away proudly into the bushes.
Next meeting: whenever fate, weather, and snacks align.
Minutes will not be written.
No one owns a pen.