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You know what they say about squirrels and politics.
But as much as I try to avoid it, there are those unfortunate times when I find myself caught in a discussion about
the furry little critters. And then what am I supposed to do, not mention the fact that squirrels are plotting
to take over the world? So I usually come right out and say it. "Listen dude, one day soon those squirrels,
their gonna rise up man." The reaction to this statement is always the same. Some version of "What the
hell are you talking about you crazy fool?" To this, I often respond by making reference to my book.
"Squirrel Man, My Years as a North American Ground Squirrel" is an autobiographical account chronicling
my successful infiltration of the squirrel population in my neighborhood during the late 1990's. I had always known
in my heart that those nutty old rodents were up to something big, but I wasn't sure what. It's just that they're
so damn hush hush around humans. So I decided the only way to find out was to get myself a squirrel suit and do
some "undercover" work.
I spent nearly every waking moment for months studying squirrels, trying to get inside their knobby little heads.
I watched their movements and habits. Measured their demeanor and how they responded to stress. In general, I became
intimately familiar with what made them tick. Eventually I was able to comprehend what few humans ever have. I
came to fully understand and appreciate what being a squirrel was all about. So, when I suited up, I was not a
man in a squirrel suit per se. Oh no, for all practical purposes, I was a squirrel. Then it was only a matter of
gaining their trust.
The major obstacle to overcome was the size difference. Imagine if you will the reverse scenario. A squirrel in
a man suit trying to fit in with regular men. Surely he would be the object of ridicule initially. It would take
some time before he would really become one of the guys, so to speak. Well it was the same for me. I had to put
up with the usual new squirrel harassment. It was mostly jokes about my size. Nothing overly offensive until one
day this loud mouth jerk of a squirrel said something about my mother and I lost my cool. I crumpled him into a
ball and hurled him about 50 feet.
After that, the teasing pretty much stopped and I earned the nickname "Big Ole Bad Ass Bert". Now I'm
not sure where they came up with Bert since my squirrel name was Arty. I guess it's just that "Big Ole Bad
Ass Arty" leaves something to be desired. Sometimes a name change is simply warranted. For instance, look
at the case of that once loveable loser, hard luck little Ernie Finkle. When one day his luck turned and he achieved
military greatness in Greece and Persia did they call him "Ernie the Great"? Hell no. And they sure didn't
call him "The Great Finkle" although I happen to think that would have been very becoming. No, as we
all know, he became Alexander and the rest was history. But I digress.
As it turned out, my size became a real asset during the whole infiltration process. I became a bodyguard for one
of the most prominent squirrels in the neighborhood. Acting as his escort, I began to attend secret meetings and
at these meetings, as I had suspected, world domination was openly discussed. Actually, their plan happens to be
modeled after the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. As you might expect, squirrels adhere mainly to the Marxist philosophy.
They believe that once they overthrow those capitalist pig humans, a system will be put in place, in which, all
the happy little squirrels will work together for the common good in a utopian environment. They seem oblivious
to the dangers of tyranny inherent in such an idealized society.
On several instances I tried warning them. "My fellow squirrels, don't you see it will never work? A handful
of evil power hungry squirrels will seize control and subjugate the masses. Are you blind to that fact?" But
they never listened. I guess, to them, I was nothing more than the big silly squirrel with the thick human accent.
I did my best, but squirrel is a tough language to master. Alot of repetitive squeaky sounds. And heaven forbid
I should speak my native tongue even though most squirrels do understand English. Squirrels are like the French
that way. Snooty little bastards.
Anyhow, despite my accent and alternative ideological perspective, I was very well liked in the squirrel community.
After nearly three years of deception I came to a crossroads. I was becoming completely assimilated into their
culture. Before long, I knew that there would be no going back. As a matter of fact, a big part of me didn't want
to go back. As a squirrel I was somebody. Kind of an Arnold Schwarzenegger type. When I would scamper from tree
to tree, there were shouts of "You da Squirrel" and chants of "Bad Ass" would erupt. Oh yes,
there were even movie offers. In contrast, as a human I was never anything more than a face in the crowd. But I
could never forget that promise I made myself long ago. It was the only thing holding me back.
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For more, visit the Author's Web Site at: ThePeppercornKid.com
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