Leonard the lemming was, to put it mildly, an anomaly. While his peers practiced their impressive cliff-diving techniques and debated the philosophical implications of collective destiny, Leonard was usually found meticulously polishing his prized possession: a pet rock named Reginald. Reginald wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but Leonard found his silent stoicism deeply reassuring.
One crisp morning, Leonard decided Reginald needed a walk. “Come along, old chap,” he chirped, gently placing Reginald in a miniature sling he’d fashioned from a particularly sturdy leaf. His fellow lemmings paused their pre-jump stretches, watching in bemusement as Leonard, with Reginald bobbing contentedly, trotted past. “He’s getting a bit chunky, isn’t he?” muttered one lemming, mistaking Reginald for a particularly lumpy berry.
Their stroll took them past the Great Chasm, a popular lemming destination for… well, you know. Leonard, ever the contrarian, preferred the scenic route, a winding path along the chasm’s edge. Reginald, of course, remained perfectly still, a model of decorum and lack of self-preservation. Leonard, however, was blissfully unaware of the irony.
Suddenly, a gust of wind, mischievous and strong, whipped through the chasm. Leonard, caught off guard, stumbled. The leaf-sling, not designed for extreme sports, snapped! Reginald, with a trajectory that would make any lemming proud, went soaring through the air.
“Reginald!” Leonard shrieked, his tiny heart doing a triple backflip. He watched in horror as his beloved pet rock plummeted towards the chasm below. This was it, he thought, the ultimate lemming sacrifice, not for the collective, but for his stony best friend.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Leonard did what any good lemming would do. He launched himself after Reginald. A collective gasp rippled through the lemming community gathered at the chasm’s edge. “He’s finally doing it!” exclaimed one. “For a rock?” questioned another, clearly missing the point of true friendship.
Leonard, however, wasn’t thinking about tradition or societal norms. He was thinking about Reginald. He flailed his tiny paws, convinced he could somehow catch his pet. Just as despair began to set in, Reginald, with a surprisingly graceful bounce, landed on a narrow, moss-covered ledge, completely unharmed. Leonard, on the other hand, landed rather ungracefully in a patch of very soft, very smelly mud just below the ledge.
After a thorough cleaning and a stern lecture to Reginald about the importance of grip strength, Leonard and his pet rock returned home. Their adventure became the stuff of legend amongst the lemmings, though most still maintained that Leonard was just a bit…rocky in the head. Leonard, however, knew the truth: some bonds, even between a lemming and a rock, were simply unshakeable.
