Tim's Cuts and Edits

[Timbones Oldburrow]

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Hello everyone! You may have noticed that the posts are running a bit behind this week (and if you didn't notice, just close your browser, wipe your memory, and pretend that everything is normal! That's how I survived 2020). But you guys deserve something, so I'm releasing some behind-the-scenes footage while you wait!


Welcome to Deleted Scenes. If at any time you would like to return to the main menu, press the "Back" button on your DVD remote. Otherwise, please sit back and enjoy the show!

Alternate Opening: Passing the Torch

This scene is the first draft of Tim's application. It went over the 800-word limit, and was thus revised and cut to focus solely on the conversation between Aunt and Nephew in the final product. 

The sun beat down on the thatched roof of an old ranch-style house situated between the sand dunes and tumbleweeds of a vast scrubland desert.

A shrill female voice rang out from inside the house. "Dang it Timbones! Get the heck over 'ere! We got beetles ta feed!"

"Yes aunty Olna..." a lanky young antelope squirrel strode out of the back door, his red-orange fur blending in with the red dust of the landscape. He chewed on a nut, passing it from cheekpouch to cheekpouch within his mouth, and carried a rusty pail in his left paw - his only paw - as he made his way over to a wide pen behind the house. He banged the pail against a fence post and wailed out a raucous call: "HEEEEERE BEETBEETBEETBEETLES!"

The ground began to shake - the sand within the pen shifted and holes opened up, from which emerged a veritable army of black beetles that scurried frenzied to meet their benefactor. Timebones tossed the contents of the bucket over the side, and the beetles went mad over the putrid mess of nutshells, berries, and general mush. The young squirrel watched contemplatively as the critters squabbled amongst themselves for the choicest scraps. He recalled fondly the times when he and his seven siblings fought over who had the brightest strawberry or the crunchiest locust. But those days were long gone - his entire family had perished during the war with the Gila monsters, save for his aging aunty Olna and curmudgeonly uncle Norris, with whom he now lived. Most rodents at Timbones' age would have been itching to get out from under the shadow of his elders and live independently, but Tmbones didn't mind the quiet life - it was a peaceful existence, and even at the green age of 18 he had already experienced his share of trauma.

Actually, life with the elder Oldburrows could hardly be considered quiet. Uncle Norris was a prospector and a businessman, often taking week-long treks into the hills to return with sparkling dust and colored rocks which he traded with travelers and merchants on the long dusty road that passed in front of their house. Timbones had gone with his Uncle on several of these excursions and learned how to stand strong in the face of fear - a trait that his species was not well known for. Uncle Norris's most recent adventure was to take him across the canyonlands to a village where the inhabitants supposedly knew the whereabouts of a skilled interpreter. The trip was meant to have taken three weeks at most - but Norris had been gone for over a month.
Aunty Olna was something of a mystery to all that knew her, even to her husband. She came from a clan of striped squirrels that lived in the hills of the east, a region where none would dare go for fear of the savage beasts that lived beyond the desert. Although her memory faded in and out, she retained the teachings of her ancestors, passed down for generations within the clan, quite clearly. It was due to this knowledge that the Oldburrows became such proficient beetle farmers. And it was for the sake of preserving this that she called in her nephew for a special chat that fine evening.
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     In the burrow basement of the house, Olna sat in her rocking chair across from Timbones, a firefly lantern betwixt them.

"Well young laddo - I suppose it's about time we had our talk," she began in her reedy voice.

"Yes Auty - but which talk? The one about my living on my own or the one about how I keep forgetting to brush my whiskers in the morning?"

     The old one shook her head. "No no - not those. This talk is important..." She produced a stack of small papers - a manuscript - from within her dress, and handed them to Tim. He leafed through them, trying to make heads or tails of his aunt's shaky handwriting.

"You've taken up writing now?"

She remained silent, awaiting recognition to set in. It didn't take long.

"Wait a minute-" said Tim, surprised. "These - all of your family rituals? You told me they were only to be passed down by mouth-"

"Yes yes, I know child. But I haven't had enough time with you - a real mother would have a lifetime, but soon I will become dust, and you must be the one to carry on the knowledge of times forgotten."

"But - no not yet - we have to make the migration north, like the Ring rabbits said. And they'll need your skills on the trail!"

     The old one closed the book within Tim's paws and looked him in the eye. "Your skills youngin' - your skills. You know enough to start you off, but not enough to survive. Everything that you need to survive, and to keep safe those around you, you will find within these pages. As for me-" she took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. "I have lived a long, satisfied life in this very burrow. To uproot me would be like picking asparagus too early - I'd just fall apart."

     Tears streamed down Tim's face - but he knew that Olna was right. And tomorrow, fates willing, he would set off with the troop that was scheduled to pass by their burrow, into the great unknown.

[Timbones Oldburrow]

(More coming soon!!!)

[The Grey Coincidence]

How very thoughtful of you. Thanks for sharing Tim.

[Timbones Oldburrow]

I am oft thwarted and have to revise large sections... I figured they might as well not be left rotting in the closet. Only challenge is knowing when to release them, as I may want to actually use parts for later and don't want to spoil anything or have readers feel that they are reading something over again.

But I will post more here as soon as I know it's safe; I've got two more scenes as it is that I'm just holding off on.

Sneak Peak: One is Tim's goodbye to Olna (that departure was rather abrupt, wasn't it?) and another is... well, an alternate opening for the upcoming Post 3.

[Timbones Oldburrow]

Deleted Scene: A Goodbye to Olna

This scene takes place just after Tim's wormdance in Round 1. I really wanted to feature another scene with Olna and show what happened when he left. However, I wasn't pleased with the result, as Olna comes off as much more clingy and unrefined than I had initially imagined her, and Tim seems almost cold and stonehearted. There dialogue is also heavily accented (or at least with my attempt at typing accents), which doesn't corollate with the application post (Olna speaks normal) or Tim's speech in general (except for in moments of excitement or anxiety - which, to be fair to myself, this scene could be considered as such and that would explain his "dialect"). The beetles were another plothole, as they originally accompanied Tim, but then didn't make it into the final posts. This scene will clear that up. Anyway, I never posted it because it was just awful to write and I hated it, but the embarrassment has worn off and now I don't think it's so bad. Enjoy (if you can!)


The rusty latch jingled as it was unhitched, and the gate creaked open.

Good golly why does the world insist on being loud when one desires to be discreet?

Timbones stepped into the pen - it was a roomy structure, with stones and plants at one end arranged into a natural habitat for the Oldburrows' prize possessions: Samson and Delialiah, the blue death feigning-beetles. They were much larger and more formidable than the run-of-the-mill darkling beetles that the family farmed for food and trade, and were thus kept as work beasts, as well as curiosites to be shown off at local fairs and gehterings (back before the drought and when fairs still existed).

Tim whispered sharply, "Sam, Del! Gettout 'ere! It's time ta go!"

A large, pale-blue armored beetle with a bumpy abdomen stumbled out from underneath one of the rocks. It was missing its right antenna.

"There ya are Del! Now where's Sam?"

A response was given in the form of a rattling bush.

"Oh so yer hidin' underneath that tumbleweed - c'mon out Sam, how's yer leg healin' up?"

A slightly smaller beetle waddled out - he had red fringes on his two antennae, but only five legs.

Tim was a little shocked. "Oh, well guess that's a question answered. Ya seem ta be able ta walk alright though so we won't worry bout it eh?" He squatted on his haunches and offered the critters a pawful of chopped nightcrawler. "Tain't much but it's somethin'."

The beetles were not picky eaters by any stretch of imagination, and went at it with apparent glee - or at least Tim liked to image that they experienced glee. For his part, the squirrel nibbled feverishly on an apple tart he had raided from the pantry.

"Alright, ya'll finish that up an' then we gotta be goin'-"

"Goin' where to, Timbones Oldburrow?"

The voice came from behind. Tim turned to address the speaker.

"Why Autnie Olna, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"I am quite aware of that," she said sternly. "But you did a poor job of it - I could feel yer footpaws a'thumpin' and the Earth a'shakin' from tha field..."

"Ya felt all that?" Timbones said, brow raised in surprise.

"Course I did - ya don't get as old as I do wit'out bein' sensitive ta the earth shakes an' all that, not ta mention livin' unnerground and..." she paused, and there was awkward silence for some moments. Tim finally broke it.

"And what Autine?"

"An' bein' a Beastermaster sich as meself an' knowin' what it feels like when somebody's doin' that ol' worm dance!"

Timbones lowered his head in shame. "But I didn't think that one was ferbidden, was it?" he said quietly.

Olna huffed. "Ferbidden? No, I didn't forbade it especifically... but ya know how dange'rus even a simple rit'ual could be if ya get it wrong ya know?"

He nodded solemnly. "I know Auntie - I'm sorry."

"Well ya gots more ta be sorry fer than that - whaddya mean by tryin' a leave yer ol' Auntie like dis wit'out even sayin' bye-bye?"

Tim immediately went on the defense. He looked up and extended a pleading paw. "No auntie honest I-... I can't lie, I'm sorry Auntie I jus'... I don't know whut I wuz thinkin..."

"Oh I knows what yew wuz thinkin' - yew wuz wantin' ta be like yer old Unckie Norris an' slip away in tha night bafore I noticed anythin'. Well, he only done dat but two time an' got away widdit, so I don't think ya stood much a chance then did ya now?"

Tim opened his mouth to speak but Olna prattled on instead.

"Not only dat, but those times Norris done it, he wuz comin' back. Far as anybeast knew at least. But yew Timbones - yew ain't comin' back. So way I seez it, yer suppose' a give fair warnin' ta yer dear Auntie bafore ya hit tha trail, as it'll be tha last time we sees each odder and that'll be a hard time ya know Tim?"


He nodded silently, still looking at the ground and watching the beetles eat.

"So den... yer sure ya wanna go now and not wait til mornin' light? Yer gonna be trekkin all night, an' ya know how bad we grounders are at stayin' up late?"

Tim shook his head vigorously and began to speak but was once again cut off. He didn't even know why he tried, it's not like this was anything new. But it was something that tired him immensely, perhaps more so than the antelope squirrel's powerful sleep cycle that ensured they stayed active during the daylight hours and avoided the dangers of the night.

"And then there's all dem meat-feasters out 'ere," Olna continued. "Some o' dem'll swallow y'all up afore dey even chew on ya - yew knows about that though, righto Timmybones?"

"Timmybones" winced - that was a nickname he thoroughly despised. He could handle "Southpaw" or "Timmo" or "Rex," but "Timmybones" was an outright assault on any sliver of adultness and maturity that he had hidden away. And tonight - on the brink of true independence - he decided that he wasn't going to just let it slip.

It's time I stood up for myself - it's time to act!

Timbones opened his mouth and said: "Please don't call me that."

Well that was a bust...

"What'd ya say Timmy- I means Tim? Say it louder if ya please."

"I said... please don't call me 'Timmybones' - I... I don't care much fer it."

Olna looked a little perturbed by this but shrugged dismissively. "Aw well all ya had ta do wuz say so, after all, yer much too big ta be called such silly names eh Timbo? Or is that too much too eh?"

"Timbo is... fine." he stated, still reluctant to make eye contact.

"Alrighty then now look at me," Olna's voice was serious. Tim obliged.

"If yer sure yew wanna get started this late, I won't stop ya. It's bout time ya made yer own decisions, I'm really proud ta see ya wanna do that, kinda sad it didn't come 'bout earlier in yer life, but 'tis what 'tis."

This last comment really seared Tim's nerves. He spoke out.

"It ain't my fault nobody ever encouraged me or gave me a chance ta do anyhitn' big - heck every time I tried I got pushed away!"

"Now Tim," his Aunt retorted. "Yew know very well why that was - and I know I might seem a tad overbearin' ta both yew an' Norris, but I've worked my hide off ta keep this ol' family afloat, an' I deserve a might more respe't fer that. It woulda been better had yew fellows helped yer old woman around tha burrow once in awhile..."

Timbones could feel the irritation and anger rising within him. He had felt that before - but tonight was different. Tonight would be the last chance he had to confront or appease his Auntie; the last opportunity to make his true feelings known. And so, regardless of the consequences, he knew what he had to do.

"Listen Auntie Olna - yew an' Uncle Norris, yew done a great thing fer me. Ya opened up yer home an' raised me from a kit, even though ya'll hadn't had no experience in rearin' babes afore. But I've always been an unhappy one - don't know if ya'll could tell, I never felt that I was 'preciated or given chance ta be myself or do my own things. Seemed like yew wanted me an' all tha world ta be a certain way, an' that's all yew was gonna git. I'm sorry Auntie, but I'm happy ta leave this night, even though I do love yew an' I will miss yew very much."

Now Auntie Olna was staring at the ground, even her flower-patterned night bonnet seemed to droop.

"Well Tim," she began, "If that's whatcha wanna do, then go do it. I heard ya come in earlier an' gitcher supplies... ya got yer toothbrush righto?"

He shook his head affirmatively. She just wouldn't get it. Maybe because he couldn't bring himself to say it straight.

"Alright then - an' ya got tha charmisack an' the journal? Ya definitely got tha journal?"

"Yes Auntie - I gots it all."

"Alright then. One last hug bafore ya go?"

"Alright. One last hug."

The two embraced, a final moment between adopted mother and son. Olna let go but held his paw. She stared at him for a few moments, a tear on her cheek reflecting the moonlight.

"I gotta go Auntie. Gotta gis started..."


The old squirrel didn't let go. Tim could feel her paw trembling, more violently than usual. She was trying hard to keep herself together, but it didn't last. Looking her nephew straight in the eye, and still holding his paw, she gave a trembling pronouncement:

"Ya know Tim? I see two ways this is gonna end: one is yew realize how dangerous the world is, an' we sees each other again in a couple hours when yew comes back scratched an' bloody. Second option is... we never sees each other 'gain cause yew died in tha desert... Now that'd be a sad thing, wouldn't be? But I knows yer a stub-ern beast an' are determind ta go, so you jus' keep yer wits about ya long enuff, an' I'm bettin' we'll meet again sometime real soon see? An' I'll even make ya some strawberry preserve smothered biscuits, alrighty-o?"

Tim was done fighting - or arguing, or whatever it was that they were doing. So he gave her the answer that she wanted. "Alrighty-o Auntie Olna. I'll make sures I keep me wits about me, an' use the charmisack too iffn' I haz ta. G'bye now..."

He turned and headed towards the old dirt road, but Olna caught his sleeve.

"Timbones Oldburrow - promise me we'll see each other again bafore long? Promise me Tim!"


Now feelings of guilt and confliction were piling on top of Timbones's agitation - he didn't like that, it was all too much to process, so again he gave his Aunt the answer she wanted. Even if it was a lie, because he knew that, if he had any say in it, he would never set eyes on her or the old homestead again.

"I promise Auntie Olna. I promise on the oldest burrow of the Oldburrows."


She slowly released her grip, and nodded with a quiet "Alrighty-o."

Tim found himself holding back tears. He planted a kiss on the old woman's forehead. "We'll see each other again - but it may be awhile. I'll be goin' now." He turned to the path that ran in front of the house, and was confronted with the faces of Sam and Del looking up at him expectantly. He looked back to Olna, and then down to the beetles again. He bent down and held a whispered conversation with the arthropods, their antenna twitching with each sylabyle.

"Listen yew two: now I knows yew was wantin' ta go wit me on tha adventure, an I' sorry ta break yer liddle hearts. But I need ya ta stay behind an' take care a' Auntie - she can't be out here all on 'er own. Can ya dew that fer me?"

The beetles glanced at each other as if to check for mutual confirmation, and then bobbed vigorously as if to say Yes yes! Of course Mr. Timebones!

Tim nodded in satisfaction as the beetles scuttled past him and to either side of Olna. She wiped away tears with the hem of her nightshirt and the two squirrels regarded each other in silence for a few moments. Finally, Tim turned, and made his way off the property into the darkness of the night.

Auntie Olna also turned to go her way, towards the dilapidated wooden homestead, the beetles flanking her as escorts on either side. Sniffling, she began to talking to no one in particular, or at least no visible being. Sam and Del exchanged a worried glance.

"Yes I knows I shouldn't a let 'im go - but wat would yew a' done? Huh, funny askin' that ta ya, considerin' ya did tha same thing an' neva' came back neither! Whadda yew care, yer already in tha Deep Sand, an' I'll be joinin' soon enough. An' there ain't no way Timmybones'll be lastin tha night on 'is own... no, I don't think tha beetles woulda 'elped, that's why I didn't protest. Woulda jus' been more of a waste... Canyonlands aren't kind ta the inexperienced." She sighed heavily. "Well then... at least we'll all be a family again bafore long."

Tim surprised himself by turning around and taking one last glance at the homestead before walking away. He only saw the back of his Aunt as she disappeared into the dark building, white as a ghost in her old nightgown.