Monday, July 11, 2011

Squirrel Hunting

The Big Daddy is in full squirrel mode, setting the trap every morning before he goes to work.  He just loves him some squirrel in a cage to transport to the Beverly Hills part of town where they can eat someone else's tomatoes.  The other day he came home to a trap with no bait and no squirrel.  Sonafabitch, he says, how did they get in there to eat my food and not get trapped?  I do not know.  Was it like this all day?  I do not know.  Weren't you paying attention to it?  No, I wasn't.  Well, ya gotta keep an eye on this thing.  No, I don't.  

We were having this conversation in the driveway with The Big Daddy pacing around in his biking spandex and clickety clacking in his biking tap shoes, and then a squirrel, as if to mock him, runs right in front of us. Ya better run ya bastard, cuz I'm coming to get ya, he shouts.  And when it ran up a tree and turned around, he yelled after it, "Oh, you're gonna look at me, huh?  Go ahead and it'll be the last day ya ever look at me."

A cute, young couple out for a nice, evening walk and pushing a stroller with a cute, little baby inside slowed down to hear what was going on.  I hate these goddamn squirrels, he tells them and they nod and smile like o.k., buddy, why don't you go in the house now and take your meds.  I wanted to tell them that it wasn't always like this, that at one time we were just like them pushing our babies and being normal.  I don't know when the train jumped the track and our new normal was standing in the front yard bullying squirrels, but I knew it was pointless to explain because even I didn't believe me. 

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