Marlene vs. The Squirrel
My mother hates squirrels. I suppose she has good reason to with all the abuse they put her through. But I think she antagonizes them to the point where they want to harm her.
Case-in-point: one spring, when I was home from college, I made a cake, using canned frosting. I cleaned up my mess, putting the empty frosting can in the garbage. I suppose that evening my mother did not want to venture all the way to the garbage can in the back of the house, so she put the garbage bag outside next to the back door. The next morning, a squirrel ripped open the side of the bag and sifted through the trash. Through the kitchen window, my mother watched it scavenge. A battle of wits was developing between my mother and the squirrel. I was not sure who had the upper hand here. Doing the least practical thing possible, she threw on a pair of slippers and ran outside to yell at the squirrel.
"You stupid squirrel!" she yelled, opening the screen door.
The squirrel saw her and scampered up a big tree. It had the frosting can in its teeth. I never knew squirrels were sugar-junkies.
Marlene ventured outside, under the branch of the tree where the squirrel was actually nibbling the frosting can.
"You stupid piece of crap," she yelled, "Get down here with the frosting can!"
"I hate you, you stupid squirrel!" Marlene shouted.
What happened next is probably the most amazing thing I've ever seen an animal do. The squirrel stopped chewing on the frosting can, held it in its front paws and then threw the can at my mother. It hit her on her head.
I laughed. The squirrel scampered further up the tree, unhampered by the cumbersome can. My mother stood looking up the tree, dumb-founded.
It is obvious who won the battle of the wits.
