You CANNOT Be Serious . . . No Really . . .
First off, I nearly tripped over it. It was just sitting there, doing its own little silly things, completely oblivious to the rest of the world. La dee dah.
It moved when I got within about half a foot of stepping on it. When I say move, I mean like 11.6 inches to the side.
“Hello?” I said, annoyed. “Would you mind moving please?”
What does it do? Looks at me. Like I’m the moron, not it.
“Come on!” I said, waving my arms at it. “Move already!”
It cocked its head to the side and gibbered at me.
“I don’t care for your reasons! Move!” I said, yelling at it, before looking around quickly to see if anyone else heard me.
It just sat there and trembled squirrelishly (girlishly???). Its big bushy tail waved side to side as if testing the wind.
I took a step forwards.
It scooted backwards, but just kept sitting there, looking at me with its big stupid brown eyes.
“Lunch!” I yelled at it.
It hopped backwards another 3/4ths of a foot.
“That’s right!” I said, coming upon an idea. “I’m going to make you lunch! I’m hungry! Yum yum yum! Yummy squirrel!”
It just looked at me like I was the stupidest thing it had ever seen in the world.
“Move!” I said, waving my arms once again in the air.
It hopped over to the side another 6 inches or so and cocked its head again. Its little front paws twitched a little.
“I’m going through now! And you can’t stop me! Lunch!” I said, adding on the “lunch” for emphasis. It hopped backwards another inch and continued to stare at me, as though I were a nifty new toy it had just happened upon.
“This is me going now!” I said loudly and exasperatedly, walking past it.
“Oh,” it seemed to say, with a backwards twitch of its tail. It jumped on the small tree that was beside the path, but only went up an arm’s length before poking its head back around to look at me curiously.
“Yes! I am still here! Lunch!” I squawked, throwing my arms in the air again for extra emphasis.
“Okay?” It seemed to say, blinking at me.
“I’m walking now! See me walking?” I said, taking a few steps forwards and looking back over my shoulder at it.
If squirrels could shrug their shoulders, I’m pretty sure that’s what it did then. Well, it was more like it shrugged its shoulders with a bewildered and confused look on its face.
I walked on thinking about the stupidity of the squirrels on my campus.
“You know,” I said, yelling back at it, where it still sat on the trunk of the tree, “if you went to my hometown, you’d be eaten before you even knew what had eaten you!”
There, that told it.
I walked along a bit more in the steaming noon sun of late July/early August Texas, before turning back once more to yell some more.
“You might be bigger than the gray squirrels at home, but they’re smarter!”
Wow, I never knew that I’d end up thinking of my hometown squirrels as smart. My mother tends to think of them as really furry rats. After all, they chewed through the siding of our house and got in our attic. And that was 3 kinds of hell trying to get them out, trust me.