Foley Borrows a Black Butterfly Body and Learns an Important Lesson

It is the middle of June and a perfect day for me to visit my mommy on garden day as a butterfly.  I got up early.  I wanted to be the first in line at the store.  I hoped to pick out a beautiful butterfly with red and purple swirls, and some green sprinkled in.  When I got inside the store, I was thrilled to see my chosen outfit was on the rack in pristine condition.  

    I started walking to one of the changing rooms when I was stopped by a salesperson standing in front of a rack of plain back butterflies.  She asked me if I would like to try one on, and I thanked her but explained that I already had the body I wanted.

    “You don’t want to try on a black one?” she asked.

    My face scrunched up, betraying my dislike of the suggestion.  “No, thank you, I prefer my bodies to be a little more flashy,” I explained.  I tried to move onward.

    “Bland?” she remarked, offended.  She held the butterfly body up for me.  “It is simple elegance.”

    I shook my head.  “I like something that my Mommy can easily see.  A black body can meld in with the houses.  I discovered this the last time I used one.  I was right in front of her, and she couldn’t see me.  The black body will do in a pinch, but I need something Mommy can see.”

    “A pinch?”  Now I had really offended her.  “Is that what black bodies are to you,  just something to wear when there is nothing else?  Should our motto be ‘better black than naked?’  Let me ask you something, are you anti-black because black butterflies matter?”

    I was not getting out of this without getting labeled as being something I abhor.  I gave up my beautiful body and took the black one. When I checked myself in the mirror, I had to admit it was elegant.  I flew down towards my house, determined to show my mom how proud I was to have this rocking body.

    I saw two white and yellow butterflies by your hummingbird feeder, and I flew down to have a drink.  When they saw me, they took off like they heard a gunshot.  I thought that was strange, but I enjoyed the nectar.  I heard another butterfly hovering over me.  “Wouldn’t you be happier drinking out of the birdbath?” I was asked by a  Monarch.

    “No, I like it here, the nectar is really good.”  Then two other butterflies forced me off my feeding station.  I tried to wiggle back in and asked them to excuse me, but they would not budge.  How rude!”

    I flew over to where you were to say hi when two bumblebees buzzed me and forced me to land.  They demanded I give them my identification papers and were not happy that I was renting the body.  They told me I could not stay in the yard.  I insisted that this was my house, but they would not listen.  

    I flew in my mom’s direction.  I figured she would know it was me and buzz off the bees.  That is when one of them stung me in my hind parts.  It really hurt.  I began to fly around in circles and then crashed to the ground.  The body was giving out.  I had to leave, and my soul went to the River.  

    When I emerged from the river, I had my Yorkie body back.  I walked to the rental shop and sheepishly told the owner what had happened. “Don’t worry,” she said sweetly.  “It occurs all the time.  A black butterfly shows up in the yard, and inevitably someone reaches for the swatter.”

    But I did worry.  I had never been treated like that before, even when I visited as a common slug.  I was convinced that black butterflies were being tended to differently, and I would not stand for it.  

    I have gathered some friends together, and on Sunday, we are going to borrow black butterfly bodies and bombard big city parks.  We will stay there all night.  We don’t care if it makes the other insects crazy.  We have the right to live in this world, even if we are angels.

    Black butterflies are just as important, beautiful, and elegant as every other color, and if insects treat them differently, I will come back as a spider and slap them out of the sky.

    Please remember back butterflies matter.