Post by Aslana on Mar 19, 2012 21:29:24 GMT -5
Joe was awakened in the middle of the night be a high-pitched squealing. Open eyes, momentary confusion, rub eyes, sit up, look around. Mousetrap safe in nest, still asleep from mild sedation. Tripod safe in nest, sitting up alert and watching the center of the room. Joe followed Tripod’s gaze.
In the middle of his room, a very young squirrel was floundering on the floor, squealing and pawing at his mouth. Surrounding this scene was a semicircle of about a dozen figures, appearing at first to be staring at him with cats’ eyes. Joe squinted and tilted his head. As his vision adjusted to the darkness it became apparent he was being visited by squirrels of varying size, their gazes pinned on Joe. One of them seemed to have her front paws crossed and a rear paw tapping with a particularly accusing air.
What?!?! Oh no….. the pepper. The Weird Woman had said the squirrels would avoid the pepper-laced birdseed, but what if one of them hadn’t? Joe ran downstairs, got some butter out of the icebox, grabbed a wooden spatula, and ran back up. Spreading some of the butter on the spatula, he offered it to the distressed young squirrel, who grabbed the lot in his paws and crammed it in his mouth. Joe refilled and offered again, and again.
By the time the sun rose, the squirrel – now named Pepper – seemed to be sufficiently cured of his distress, so Joe went downstairs for breakfast, and realized that sometime during the early morning’s adventure he had come to a decision. So he got out the mortar and pestle and the jar of hazelnuts, and made breakfast. Then he got out the eggs and made breakfast for himself. He put the hazelnut paste in bowls around the table, and turned back to finish cooking his eggs. Plate in hand, he turned back around to the table, slowly, to a tableau of squirrels paused in the act of breakfasting. Joe seated himself quietly with his plate of eggs. He noticed just one thing missing.
“Salt, please?”
Pepper scampered over to the salt shaker and pushed it down the table.
The End.
In the middle of his room, a very young squirrel was floundering on the floor, squealing and pawing at his mouth. Surrounding this scene was a semicircle of about a dozen figures, appearing at first to be staring at him with cats’ eyes. Joe squinted and tilted his head. As his vision adjusted to the darkness it became apparent he was being visited by squirrels of varying size, their gazes pinned on Joe. One of them seemed to have her front paws crossed and a rear paw tapping with a particularly accusing air.
What?!?! Oh no….. the pepper. The Weird Woman had said the squirrels would avoid the pepper-laced birdseed, but what if one of them hadn’t? Joe ran downstairs, got some butter out of the icebox, grabbed a wooden spatula, and ran back up. Spreading some of the butter on the spatula, he offered it to the distressed young squirrel, who grabbed the lot in his paws and crammed it in his mouth. Joe refilled and offered again, and again.
By the time the sun rose, the squirrel – now named Pepper – seemed to be sufficiently cured of his distress, so Joe went downstairs for breakfast, and realized that sometime during the early morning’s adventure he had come to a decision. So he got out the mortar and pestle and the jar of hazelnuts, and made breakfast. Then he got out the eggs and made breakfast for himself. He put the hazelnut paste in bowls around the table, and turned back to finish cooking his eggs. Plate in hand, he turned back around to the table, slowly, to a tableau of squirrels paused in the act of breakfasting. Joe seated himself quietly with his plate of eggs. He noticed just one thing missing.
“Salt, please?”
Pepper scampered over to the salt shaker and pushed it down the table.
The End.