November 2002
Issue - Essay # 7
Beware
of the Squirrels
By Kristin
Dreyer Kramer
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I got the strangest voice mail
message from my friend today. Okay, so that’s not exactly accurate.
Were it from one of anyone else’s friends, it would have been really
strange. But from one of my friends, it was pretty typical. "I just thought you’d be
interested," my friend began, in somewhat of a whisper. "I was on
the way to work today, and I saw squirrels running in the street. But they weren’t just running. They were running in an
organized formation." He went on to explain that he suspected an
uprising--and that I might want to take the necessary precautions.
Then he hung up. End of message. I was a little concerned, but I
really didn’t think anything of it until I got another message from
him two days later. "I just thought you might like to know," he
began, "that another one of the guys from work saw the squirrels,
too." He seriously cautioned me to be on the lookout. I raced to the door to make
sure it was locked--I checked the windows, too--and then I sat
down to think about the situation. The squirrels are organizing.
This can’t be good. I tried to look on the positive
side. Maybe they were holding some squirrel marathon. But my friend
didn’t mention anything about the squirrels wearing running shoes.
Besides, a squirrel marathon would be silly. Maybe, I thought, the squirrels
know something that the rest of us on the planet don’t know.
Maybe we’re about to be attacked by a fierce army of rodents
from another planet, and the squirrels are our only hope. But, then again, I’ve never
known a squirrel to be especially benevolent. That’s when I remembered the
story that my mom told me not long ago. She said that she and Dad had
been sitting peacefully, eating dinner and minding their own business,
when they heard strange scratching sounds.
They turned to find that a
rather large squirrel had climbed his way up the screen door and was
gnawing through the metal screen. And just last week, when a
friend and I were walking through the park, we stopped to notice a black
squirrel as he gathered acorns. As we continued to walk, we heard a
crack above us, and a branch fell from the tree and landed right on my
head. That’s when I realized that my friend was right after all. The squirrels were organizing. They’re out to get us. But why?
I think my brothers could have
something to do with the uprising. They used to shoot at squirrels with
their BB guns. I can imagine
that I’d be pissed off if little kids kept chasing me and shooting me
with BBs. And my dad once built a
contraption that kept the squirrels from climbing up our bird feeder and
eating all of the birdseed. I’m sure that didn’t help the situation.
So thanks to the insensitivity
of people like my father and brothers, the squirrels have had enough.
They’re lacing up their little squirrel boots, and they’re
stockpiling their little squirrel weapons. Soon, we’ll see how my
brothers enjoy being shot at--and how my dad enjoys having his food
ripped right out of his hands...
It’s not going to be pretty--that’s all I can predict. I’ve never known a squirrel to be
especially merciful, and I don’t expect any of them to begin now. Just watch--before long, anyone who’s ever bounced a rock
off a little squirrel noggin is gonna suffer. There might be ways, though, to
escape the imminent wrath of the squirrels (and maybe the rest of their
rodent friends, too). First, I suggest that you stockpile acorns.
I’ve already gathered several garbage bags full, figuring
they’ll be useful as currency--and perhaps bribes--later.
Second, run! Lock up your home, and hurry to any place where there are
no squirrels. I recommend
relocating to islands and continents where squirrels don’t even exist--perhaps
Antarctica. That way, you’ll be
separated by large bodies of water--and everyone knows that squirrels
aren’t very fast swimmers. Of course, they could be
building boats. You may not believe me, but
this is a very serious situation. Squirrels are sick of their dumb furry
animal reputation, and they’re prepared to do whatever it takes to get
their revenge. Remember that time you ran over
a squirrel with the wheel of your car?
So do they. |
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Author's Biography A native of
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Essay
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