Groundhog Day. The village elders of Punxsutauney, PA unceremoniously yank poor Phil out of his cozy hideaway. Little do they care that he was in the middle of grooming. They expose him blinkingly to the rude light of a late winter day. He quietly endures the annual poking and prodding. Part of his family history for decades. And apparently obligatory. The Fellowship of Fermentation and Brothers of the Bottle, bottles in hand, wait eagerly–for what? Phil doesn’t know. But he wonders. What are these demented humans doing? Do they know? He wants to go home. A sudden burst of noise and it’s over. The Brothers of the Bottle and the Fellowship of Fermentation cork up. Mount their large metal machines. And leave. The village elders of Punxsutauney, PA put Phil back into his hideaway. Sunset. Darkness falls. And peace returns to the hills. Still, he wonders, what were those demented human beings doing?
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