Secret Squirrel

Lodged between the blades of grass, the squirrel lurked at the head of the sleeping behemoth. His hair was black like the color of the birds that steal his food, not like the more beautiful squirrel-haired of his species. He slept with a larger back sack, a peculiar defense mechanism for birds, but sometimes the behemoths carried food in their back sacks. The squirrel would search for the perfect opportunity.

While the behemoth was sleeping now, the squirrel was not in the ideal position for a raid. He was positioned at the head of the snoring giant. The squirrel studied his quarry from a crouched position. For minutes, he waited in pouncing position and staring at that crow hair. He would want to creep around the back of the behemoth and stick to the shade, but given the time of day, the shadows were too short and he could risk the giant rolling his formidable backside onto him. If he leapt on to the tree and tried to jump over the man, he could clear him; however, the squirrel may end up making too much noise and waking the giant. He would have to go around the back.

With the precision of a well-trained squirrel commando, he snuck low to the grass. Anyone looking at the tree from afar might see a moving shadow in the tree and pass it off as a trick of the eye. The squirrel was good. He was an expert at recon. By he time he reached the halfway point, the squirrel was beginning to think this was  a cakewalk, a squirrel rite of passage in which he must literally walk over cake. Just then, the man curled his leg and began to turn. The squirrel had waited too long! He dug his feet into the dirt below and vaulted under the crooked leg. The squirrel curled his tail under the knee, only just preventing the near-fatal tickle that would have caused his mission to be a complete failure.

Luckily… no, thanks to pure skill, the squirrel was through. He signaled to a nearby tree and his comrade leapt to attention. He was an idiot but fast: good for distractions.

“Took you long enough,” squirrel comrade signalled with his whiskers.

The squirrel stood on his back legs and gave squirrel comrade the middle finger. Oddly enough, that gesture is universal in the animal kingdom. Even the birds have a way of perching that’s so subtle, it’s genius. Probably why they call it “the bird.”

“Let’s do this,” the squirrel whisker-signalled.

They crept up to the man. The squirrel took watch while comrade squirrel eased into the back sack.  A granola bar wrapper! Jackpot! The squirrels took off for the nearest tree, indulgent in their victory meal of sweet, sweet crumbs.

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1 Comment

Filed under Flash Fiction, Session XII

One response to “Secret Squirrel

  1. I liked the paragraph with the communist squirrel who flips off his comrade.

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