A writer friend of mine was fretting about a children’s story she was developing. It was about a squirrel named Whiskie, which I thought was a fine name, but she worried that parents would reject the story because the name sounded like alcohol. That got me thinking, and here’s the result. (Profanity warning.)
The Adventures of Absinthe the Squirrel
You think your life is hard? Try being a damn squirrel. You have to run around all spring and summer hiding acorns, and then all autumn and winter your wife will bitch, bitch, bitch. “No hibernating until you find all those nuts! This is what happens when you hide them so carelessly! Maybe if you’d drink a little less you’d be able to find more of them and then our children wouldn’t have to go borrowing …” blah, blah, blah, you know how chicks can get. Well, trust me, if you had to spend all day digging holes, hoping to find a nut at the bottom, then you had to carry that filthy thing home in your mouth, you’d get a taste for liquor too, and damn fast.
And the people around here — don’t get me started. The humans in this neighborhood are a bunch of high and mighty assholes. They scatter seeds all over the place, and then they cry and complain when you do the only thing that can be done with seeds, you fucking eat them. “No, no, those are for the birds,” they go around whining. Excuse me? The birds get a monopoly on forage? Do you wanna help me explain that to my wife? Do you think she could give a shit about how fat the birds aren’t getting, when our kids are crying for food? Give me a break.
So I told one of them. “I’m a herbivore, lady, so stop acting like I’m breaking some kind of law when I eat the damn herbs! Just be glad I can’t eat the fucking birds!” She chased me away with a broom. I guess she didn’t like my tone.
And do you know what she did the next day? She put goddamn red pepper flakes in the birdseed! That shit hurts!
Well, I showed her. You know those pretty flowerpots she keeps on the back patio, with all the basil and other herbal hippie crap growing in them? Yeah. I went and teabagged them all. Next time she cooks pasta, she’s going to be eating my balls.
You don’t fuck with an alcoholic squirrel.