Work Text:
No Entry had always been a no entry sign ever since the construction worker first hammered her into the ground. Before that, she was a mere circular section of metal with a white rectangle in the middle of her face. But now, her reason for living had been laid out clearly, to bar traffic from going where it wasn't meant to. It wasn't grueling work, which was nice. Other than when the sun blazed down onto her on hot summer days. Or during the frigid cold, when the roads were icy and she bore witness to the destruction of many a vehicle at the hands of the friction-less stuff while she shivered away. Or on the days when it was overcast and easygoing and all in all very lovely out, but the solitude of sitting on the corner of that road gnawed at her soul til it threatened to shrivel and die.
It was one of those days, lovely, where silently she cried and stood alone on that corner, when a big truck carrying wooden cargo came wheeling around the bend and looked as though it was going to crash right into the ditch before straightening out and breezing down the road. Some of its cargo had been lost, though. A big log came barreling off, and would've struck her dead if it hadn't been for a conveniently situated rock.
The log was quiet for awhile, but before long they were having enthralling conversations. No Entry old tales of dogs sticking their heads out car windows, Log of what it was like to live in a forest before he got turned into a log.
All of a sudden, the hot summer days felt more bearable. No longer did she have to cry over lost lives all by her lonesome, for she had the log to grieve with. No Entry could enjoy the overcast days to their fullest now that she had a being to share it with.
A wicked old cowboy came along one day. She did not know in the moment just how wicked he was, though, and did not give him any attention. The wicked old cowboy halted in front of the log and eyed him good before turning him over to see if there were any bugs beneath. Out of the ordinary, but not unusual. Then he bent down and grabbed the log. A smidge more unusual. And then he began to carry the log away. No Entry was anxious, but she was also firmly rooted to the ground and could not do anything. Fright was on the log's bark, and a few footfalls more, and he was gone. No Entry was devastated.
The wicked old cowboy took Log back to his tents, where a lady adorned with a rose and a man missing his arm waited.
"That is one helluva log, lad!" cried the one-armed joe.
"I concur! It will make for great firewood" said the rose-eyed lass.
"Aye, it is! I found it by a no entry sign over yonder. Exquisite thing! I'm quite looking forward to the warmth it will bring us." The wicked old cowboy held the log over the fire, calculating just how he should let go of it so that embers would not fly every which way. As he dilly dallied, the rose-eyed lass watched and her brows furrowed in thought, then flew towards her forehead in a horrified realization.
"Now wait just a moment!," said she, hastily drawing closer and snatching the log from the cowboy. "Stars, this is not just any log! Nay, it is a log of sentience! You can tell by the fright carved into its visage."
One-armed joe stood from where he was seated and examined the log and let out a sigh. "Oh, saddle me and call me betty . . . What have you done, lad? You done stole a log of sentience from its resting area! What would your brother think?"
The cowboy was fraught, and he went white. "I was none the wiser, honest! Had I known, I would've left the blasted thing alone!"
Meanwhile, the no entry sign had all but let go of herself. What was her reason to stay if she did not have her lover? Those cars were going to do whatever they liked no matter what she did. A gentle breeze came along and took a leaf from a branch which flew down and unscrewed the screw that fastened her bolted to her metal body. She was ready.
That wicked old cowboy raced over with the log in hand, just in time to watch the no entry sign clatter onto the ground. Shocked, frozen solid, the cowboy was unable to move, and the rose-eyed lass rushed forward and began doing mouth-to-mouth on the sign to try and resuscitate it, but it was no use, for no entry signs have no hearts, and no mouths.
Log did not care to be in the cowboy's arms any longer, and tried to roll away, all to no avail. The cowboy's arms remained tight round the log, as he sobbed and murmured shakily, "No, no. Don't die like your lover did! Stay in my arms! I didn't mean to steal you from them, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" It took all the wild-west-originating fellow's strength so the log would not fall.
The one-armed joe came from behind and tried hoisting the log with his one arm, but none of it was enough. The log fell to the ground, and died. That wicked old cowboy began yelling and screaming in agony, and his one-armed associate shot a hand over his mouth and tried to comfort the cowboy by rubbing his back with the one-armed fellow's arm nub. The rose-eyed lass looked to them with teary eyes and a mouth stained red and shook her head, and the cowboy's wails grew in volume.
The End.