So I go outside to have a smoke, and I see my favorite little squirrel hanging out. As I do whenever I see him, I start making strange little noises, which always prompts him to run toward me, then stop, sit up, and flick his tail, and wait until I start talking to him again, when he’ll start hopping closer. We have these chats a few times a week.
Today, after he’d run away, I noticed there was a woman sitting at a picnic table across the parking lot, looking at me like I was a complete nutzoid. She was talking on her cell phone, and now that my ears weren’t filled with the sounds of my own squirrel-talkin’, I could hear her saying, “This girl is a freak.”
I guess I’m lucky I wasn’t doing what I usually do on my smoke breaks, which is fart like the winner of a chili-eating contest at the Texas State Fair.
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