Of course, pants would be a certain necessity if he were to make it in society, but he also felt he lacked something else, something the more prominent locals had. He came upon a familiar stump and sat upon it. He pulled out a stick and began tracing thoughts into the peaty dirt.
Thinking of a prominent citizen, he drew the mayor, Maria.
What did she have that he didn't? He drew Dalton her husband.
What a crazy thought! Jack didn't need a husband!
He drew her veggie field and her chickens.
Heck, what use did he have for chickens!
He tapped his stick while thinking and dragged it along the ground in a semi-circle. That's when the idea made sense! She had a house! He needed a house if he were to be a respectable citizen!
He looked about the river bank for a few minute for houses. No luck. (Aside from a badger's house, but his mother always warned him badgers make horrible room-mates.) Alas, there were also neither a brick to be seen. He heard a slap up the river and knew some water animal must be making it's home in the lake.
Grinning, he grabbed up a handful of pebbles and snuck through the underbrush. Once in sight of the large mound the watery rats were working on, he took careful aim for a nearby bush. It would be such fun to see them looking around for the source of a phantom noise in the forest. He wound up to throw and then noticed something. They were building a house! He got an idea.
He dropped the pile of pebbles into the lake and ran, swiftly for his spot on the river bank. Grabbing spry branches and twigs he made the frame of a house and wove a structure for support, much like a basket. He grinned as he looked up at the dome he had formed.
That should hold.
Suddenly a wind picked up and knocked a few branches loose. Jack grew rather upset and impatient with the wind. He yanked a large stick from the base of the hut and chased the wind about the river-bank for a few minutes. Returning to the hut, in ruins, he smacked it with the stick a few times for good measure and sat down to pout.
He thought, "I need something heavy and sticky to keep this together in the wind...."
Attempting to stand up he felt a pull on his tail, which had pushed into the wet clay of the river.
"Good plan."
He rebuilt his stick hut and covered it with a strong layer of clay. Thinking ahead, he created a doorway and windows and a hole in the roof where the smoke from his fires could escape. He was ready to call this place home. Returning to his sign, he drew an arrow pointing to his house:
"NotJack Lives THere -->"[sic]
That should do.
He sat in his house, arranging cups woven of leaves about the floor in preparation for guests to arrive.
