David and the Squirrel

David found the BB gun by mistake, while rooting around in the back of the garage for a pump to inflate his basketball. As he inspected it, Toby, his friend wandered into the garage.

"Does it work?" Toby asked.

David squeezed the trigger and shot Toby in the stomach. He hadn't meant to, it was just his answer to the question. There was a red welt an Toby's skin, but no more damage than that.

"You owe me," Toby said.

David didn't trust him to avoid his crotch, so he only offered his back. Two pumps were allowed; at ten paces, Toby shot him. It stung sharply and he gasped for breath, but David did not cry out. He soon joined in his friend's laughter.

They saw the squirrel in the tree overhead, and took turns firing at it. The squirrel chattered as it rushed from branch to branch, making anxious leaps through the trees as the boys methodically stalked it, the rhythmic pump of the weapon followed by the the flat release of air marking the time.

The squirrel paused for a moment, reached for a branch, and then fell to earth where he bounced once and lay on his back. His forepaw stretched out but then halted. For a few seconds, the sounds of summer returned. A bluejay called out angrily, more like a dog than a bird, as it fluttered past. Children in a nearby yard laughed.

They looked at each other, then back at the squirrel. There was a bead of blood underneath its chin. They both looked around to see if what happened had been noticed, but they were alone. David took some relief in that it had been Toby, finally, that killed it.

"You have to get it," David said.

"I'm not touching it."

"I'll get a shovel."

They dug a hole and buried it. Toby wanted to keep shooting, but David put the gun away and went inside.

"I'm going to go get my own BB gun," Toby said, unashamed of what they had done.

That evening, David's father asked what he had done that day, and David replied, "Not much."

During the night, David awoke with a start, and left the house. He stood over the place where the squirrel was buried, and waited.

The air was cool and wet. A bat flitted overhead, visible in the dim light from the back porch. He waited a few minutes but, feeling a chill, went back.

As David walked to the house, he saw a squirrel on the deck. "How old are you?" the squirrel asked.

"I'm thirteen," David replied. He was strangely not afraid, and had a thought. "Are you my consciense?"

"No," the squirrel said. "I'm a squirrel."

"Are you God, or a spirit?"

"I'm a squirrel. I live in the trees and gather nuts to eat."

"Oh."

"What do you do?"

"I'm not sure. Kind of the same, but for humans."

A breeze stirred the leaves overhead. "What are you doing out in the middle of the night?" the squirrel asked.

David thought for a moment. "I thought you might give me advice, you know, on how to live my life."

The squirrel said, "Who wants advice from a squirrel? I mean, seriously?"

Holt, Michigan 2009