That's me, crawling to the edge of the limb, clamoring more like it, for what? A lousy pecan. Not that I don't like pecans. Pecans are great, they're just so far out there. I tremble, I grasp, and still I feel like I'm gonna fall. That thing about squirrels always landing on their feet, that's not about squirrels. I found that out the hard way! Flat on my back, gasping for air. Gasping to exhale, really. My lungs felt like they were to capacity and I couldn't empty them out, couldn't blow out to make room to suck in. Quite a pitiful conundrum to be quite honest.I don't have any problem with honesty. I'm told I'm a complainer; I'm just being honest. The bugs are unbearable. I don't know what you're about, but I'm trying to shake the bugs out of my tail; that's why I'm twitching. And I'm not gonna fight you for your nuts. What do I care about your nuts? If I steal them I'll just have to bury them and then who's the idiot? I may not be the smartest squirrel in the nut farm but I'm smart enough not to be Huckleberried by the likes of you.
Clever does not equal smart, no matter what you think. I don't know, can't imagine, don't want to know where you got a leather jacket to fit you. For what? What good does it do? In this heat and humidity only a mentally deranged squirrel would say that's cool. I don't care if you are a flying squirrel. I tell you what, a piece of blackened dead animal skin is not gonna help you fly any faster; if anything I'm pretty sure it's gonna slow you down.
I wish I could just be left alone. I've got things to do. They may be inane but they're squirrel things and like it or not I'm a squirrel, that's the deck I've been handed in this lifetime. I can only have faith that I'm on an upward trajectory, that my karma is leading me toward something better. Perhaps not more important, but at the very least I believe -- or want to believe -- that I'll have better tools for grasping, climbing, gathering, burying, remembering where I buried my fucking nuts in the first place. Or is that in the last place?
Oh, woe to me, stuck here in this state, waiting for the honey train, or whatever it's called. The nut cup? The bucket of bounty? I don't know enough to know what's instinct and what is my imagination at work. I'm a squirrel, hear me roar. No, I don't think that's right either.
Just please let me make it to that pecan without falling to the street below and meeting the rubber and metal of an oncoming vehicle. Just please let me not end up in the sorry, flat state I've seen several of my brothers and sisters in!
