November 17,
2017
So, we’ve been doing this “thing” with squirrels around
the yard. They got into the house, camped in the attic, and there
had what might have been a winter wonderland.
Having been an
English teacher for so long, I had to use this experience as possible
lesson in writing styles. So while raking leaves for several days, I
made some mental notes about how three writers would have handled the same
situation.
Our furry friends are all humanely
trapped and relocated.
In the style of Robert
Burns
The pitter-patter of little feet above my
head
Fills me not with joy but with dread.
Squirrels! Off to the
store and now a trap in hand.
Two little beasties have been taken to a
brand new land.
In the style of
Shakespeare
Alas, a sharp toothed four footed furry
friend
Took my abode as his with no recourse to end
Snapped in a
trap and skinned from tail to top
And at the pub tonight greasy Joan
doth keel the pot.
In the style of Stephen
King
They invaded with no warning, taking over the
attic and waking Clem and the family all night with acorn chewing, ceiling
scratching, and almost soft nesting sounds.
Bastards.
Clem set the
trap. Peanut butter on deli bread.
The car exhaust did its thing, and
what was moving Clem then stopped with a single hammer blow. Mercy
has its place.
While still warm and pliable, Clem peeled off the
skin, leaving a gut filled carcass.
Clem nailed them to the trees,
thinking it a warning to the others and a tidy present for dreary
November. Thanksgiving felt wonderful, but it was the crows who
feasted best.