Squirrels

Roses start at the end of July. They’re a late blooming beauty and the most beautiful of them all. They hold their pose elegantly for some time then wilt and fall to the ground.

The squirrels wondered what killed Bill. The window above the house had slid open and, seconds later, a loud bang was heard. “Yeah Fred, Bill was just chirpin’ along like he always does in late morn’. Standin’ up yonder on that rock pile. He liked to stand up on his back legs there and really fill the air with his mornin’ song.”

“Well Mosey it ain’t natural the way Bill hit the ground and rolled up in a ball twitching for quite sometime. Then he barely drug himself to protection when that bang came again.”

“Sally, where in the heck did you relocate the family to? Look, I know this place has all them nice rock piles an’ even a rock barrier around the perimeter. Sure, there is so many places to hide but with death raining from above without a second’s warning, a little cover ain’ gonna do us much good.

“George, yer always worrying and ….”

“Hey everyone that window is sliding open again!” Bang! Bang! The squirrels ran to cover and never had anymore problems with the death rain because when the window opened they ran. Plus this time they recognized the big nosed Neanderthal with his bang stick and hid the instant they suspected his gaze, from then on out.