Squirrel

One of my BFFs, Everett, has a squirrel issue. I do not know what, in particular, the squirrel does that bothers Ev, but whatever it is, he doesn't like it. It is Something Serious. I know this because once when Everett told me about the squirrel, he started talking about guns. It was only an air rifle (poor, Yankee Ev didn't know that's practically a water gun), but still. The squirrel was doing something to Ev's plants, I think. 

Ev didn't have many plants at the time--mostly just some flowers in a box on the railing of his balcony. The squirrel (and Ev insists it's always the same one--he claims to recognize him) likes to recline on his back in the cool soil, shaded by the peonies, with his little squirrel arms draped behind him on the sides of the box.

I imagine it looks a bit like this:

"That blasted squirrel," said Ev one time on the phone, "looks like he's just lying in a jacuzzi!"

I try to be understanding, but I get impatient. The squirrel has been our main conversation topic for years, and sometimes I'd prefer to talk about something else. Plus, I have trouble not seeing the squirrel's perspective. He has fur, poor thing, and summer is hot! What's the little guy supposed to do to keep cool?

"Hide up a damn tree," splutters Ev, "like every other normal squirrel does!"

Ok.

Ev has taken many, clever steps to rid himself of the squirrel. He's put spikes in the flower box. The squirrel just pushes them aside and lies among them. He's put some smelly stuff in the soil, that squirrels are supposed to hate. I think the peonies suffered, but the squirrel did not mind. He's moved he box to the other side of the balcony, hoping the squirrel wouldn't be able to find it again. Here, I interjected.

"Ev, I know his brain is small," said I, "but is this a blind squirrel?" 

"How the fuck do I know?!" Ev bellowed. "Do I send him disability checks? Did I give him a vision test?"

The squirrel, who does seem to be sighted, found the new location with no trouble.

That's when Ev started talking about guns. 

"Wait a minute. Dude." I said. "I think you might hit a person. It's not worth it."

"I was thinking of getting an air rifle," he said.

"Well, geez then," I said. "Why don't you just brush his fur for him? Or toss a pebble in his general direction?"

"It's still a gun," Ev said. "You don't think it will hurt him?"

"No. I don't. It won't even make him bleed. It'll just make him mad. Plus, you'll miss. Squirrels are fast. It's, like, their little, squirrelly thing. After he hears the shot, he'll have plenty of time to run before the pellet hits."

Texans know guns. We can't help it.

"Huh," Ev said. "What are they for, then? Air rifles?"

"They're for little boys," I replied.

"Huh," said Ev. "Well maybe the shot will scare him."

"And charm the neighbors."

The next time I spoke to Ev, he started asking me about real guns.

"How do I get one?" he wondered. 

"Oh, well lemme see here just a durn minute! I'm right sure I have six in mah drawer!"

"Don't be insulted," Ev said. "You do seem to know a lot about guns."

Sigh. No one understands me. Not even my BFFs.