A Letter Written by a Squirrel for Humans

My name is Nutsie.  The bald vegan named me that, because I love nuts.  I really do.  He tried to feed me a piece of carrot.  After sniffing at it for one second, I knew I didn't want it.  Fortunately, he also had a whole walnut for me too.  He gave it to me.  But that silly bald vegan kept trying.  He tossed a piece of broccoli to me.  This time, it took a few seconds of sniffing for me to decide I didn't want it.  Then he tossed a whole almond to me.  Next time, he gave me a slice of cucumber.  Once again, one sniff, and I was done.  He gave another almond to me.  He's silly, but he tries.
Other people aren't as nice as the bald vegan.  I heard they had something in Holley, NY called a "squirrel shoot."  That wasn't nice.  They had all kinds of people shooting at, and killing, squirrels.  I don't understand this.  What did we ever do to you?  We're all so afraid of you.  We know it's your world, and we're just squirrels trying to get a nut.  Some people eat us.  But is it really worth it to kill us for food?  We're so small.  And so many of you are so fat.  The meat of one squirrel can't make much of a dent in those super-sized bellies I've seen.
And please be careful when driving your cars.  So many squirrels have been run over by cars.  If you can avoid us, please do so.  The bald vegan saw someone run right over a squirrel with his or her car.  He or she killed her.  The driver made no attempt whatsoever to avoid running over the squirrel.  There were no pedestrians or other cars around, so the bald vegan thinks the driver should have tried to avoid the squirrel.  People need to be attentive when they're driving.  This person killed the squirrel, kept driving like nothing happened, and parked at a nearby restaurant.  The bald vegan thought about confronting the driver, but he was too sad to do it.  He was more sad than mad.  But if he had been more mad than sad, he might have at least yelled at the driver.  And if the driver messed with him, he might have gotten physical.  You should keep that in your mind.  There are people who are willing to fight for animals.            

Mind the Gap

Blood of my Blood.

This is a public service announcement: without guitars.  This weekend, my friend and I went to see a stand-up comedian perform at the Comedy Club in Webster, NY, which is a Rochester suburb.  I couldn't believe how loud his mic had been turned up.  I've seen a bunch of comedians there; they have had plenty of impressive talents gracing their stage.  Anyway, this comedian was so loud, that I needed to go to my car to get my earplugs, which I usually bring everywhere with me, because everyone I know plays their music and/or TV too loud for my sensitive ears.  I was running behind the Comedy Club to my car.  I didn't notice a step on the sidewalk.  I tripped over it and landed on my hands and my right knee.   The picture I'm posting with this is of the tissue I used to absorb the blood that came from my hands afterward.  My right hand was worse.  A strawberry-sized piece of skin had been completely removed from my hand as a result of the trip.  The left hand wasn't much better.  The skin had been broken in several places on the palm.
Sure, what I did was stupid.  But I wonder whether it even makes sense for that step to be where it is.  It comes out of nowhere, and I bet it's tripped lots of people.  It's dark back there.  I think they should have an outside light over that step, so people can see it.  Of course we need to watch our steps.  We should look to see exactly where we're stepping and whether it's safe or not.
The baby groundhogs continue to grow.  They really grow too quickly.   For the first time, I stretched my neck so I could get a look at them climbing into their hole in the ground from my bedroom window.  They're great, but the sad part is that new babies means in with the new and out with the old.  Groundhogs can be tough and ornery.  I think the mother always chases away other groundhogs once she's had her babies.  She wants to protect them.  She has the instinct.
I'm worried about me naming one of the babies Sweetpea.  I wonder if this will be another situation where I helped a groundhog get her superpowers.  As was the case with Bumpkin, a perfectly cute groundhog has received a perfectly cute name.  Have I done it again?  Will Sweetpea get superpowers?  Will she be able to fling fireballs from her left paw like Bumpkin can?  Time will tell.
Bumpkin, and her sisters Lucinda and Sloopy, are still in love with the new babies.  Bumpkin has indefinitely postponed her war against humans for control of the world.  She's full of peace and love.  Once again, humans have the luck of the Irish.  If not for the recent births of these 5 babies, she'd be wreaking havoc against them for sure.  

Bumpkin Rises

Bumpkin became the new mayor of the city after slaying the previous one.

Just like she said she would (telepathically), Bumpkin has taken over the city of Rochester, NY.  I even gave her a ride to city hall.  I hope I won't be prosecuted for aiding and abetting, but I couldn't help it.  I have clearly become one of her brain-controlled zombies.  I am completely under her control; there's nothing I can do about it.  I walked with her to my car and opened the door for her.  She hopped in, and we were off.  As far as I know, that was Bumpkin's first car ride, which made it pretty annoying for me.  After all, I'm pretty sure she had never left my (her) apartment complex before.
"What's that?" she asked me telepathically when we passed a Rite Aid store.
"That's a Rite Aid store, Bumpkin."
"What is a Rite Aid store?"
"It's where people go to buy things they want or need."
"What does 'buy' mean?"
Of course she wouldn't know what "buy" means.  Bumpkin doesn't buy; she takes.  She has no money (currently), because she has no use for it (yet).  "People go into a store with money, that they worked for, stole, or was given to them, and they trade money for things."
"What is money?"
"It's made of paper or metal, it has different values, and it is used to trade for things that people want."
"What is work?"
I sighed.
"How dare you be rude to me!  You've seen what I can do.  I can end you whenever I want to.  I can also torture you for eternity."
"I'm sorry, Bumpkin; I really am.  I don't have any kids, so I'm not used to being asked all these sorts of questions."
"You will tell me everything I want to know, and you will not give me any attitude: end of discussion."
"Yes, ma'am."
"What is ma'am?"
"It is what you call a female that you respect."
"That's more like it.  Now, what is work?"
You get the idea.  As soon as I answered another one of her questions, it was immediately followed by another one.  Even though I was afraid of what would happen once we reached city hall, I couldn't wait to get there.  It was the most annoying car ride I'd ever had, even though it was a short trip.  We finally reached our destination.  "This is it, Bumpkin.  This is city hall."
"Good.  Open this thing for me."
"Yes, ma'am.  It's called a door, by the way."
"Whatever.  Just do it."
"Yes, ma'am."  I opened the door for her and she hopped out.  She promptly flung a fireball from her left front paw that demolished the doors of the building.  Guards, who had been stationed at the metal detector, rushed outside the building to see what caused the destruction.  Bumpkin burnt all of them to a crisp.  Then she scampered into the building.  I followed her.  We approached a guy in a suit who had an expression of shock on his face.  "Excuse me," I said to him, "Could you please tell us where the mayor's office is?"  He told us, so we went directly to it.
"Can I help you?" a woman asked us.  I assume she was the mayor's secretary.  Bumpkin roasted her.  I opened the door to the mayor's office for her.  She sauntered in.
"Just what the hell is going on around here?" the mayor asked.  He looked at Bumpkin.  "Hey, there's no rodents allowed in here!"
"This is Bumpkin," I said.  "She's a groundhog, and she's taking over the city."
"Over my dead body!" he said.
"That's her plan," I replied.  Sure enough, she jumped onto his chest and slashed his throat with her left paw.  She nearly decapitated him.  His blood stained my clothes.  I doubt I'll be able to get these stains out.
"Was he the mayor?" she asked me.
"Yes."
"Good."  Just like that, the city was hers.  I wouldn't want to be the county executive or the governor; that's for sure.  They're next.