When the inevitable environmental meltdown comes, and it will, one apex creature will remain upon the face of the earth. It isn’t humans. It’s not a bear, a wolf, or the hippopotamus (pronounced hippo-po-TA-mus). The ruler of the post-apocalyptic world will be the squirrel. The squirrel, you may ask. Oh yes, the squirrel.
I have firsthand experience of this creature’s adaptability, cunning, and overall despicableness in the form of the infamous Frenchy Bob. During the 1990’s the picturesque campus of the University of Montana disguised a malicious presence—a malevolent rodent that, despite never being depicted in any of the promotional brochures, forced each and every student to reckon with his psychological abuse.
This is the story of Frenchy Bob.
No one can accurately pinpoint the exact time or place at which Frenchy Bob lost a portion of his tail (thus the “Bob” nickname). But you can be sure Frenchy’s distaste for Homo sapiens originated during that impressionable event. The result was nearly a decade of torment.
Frenchy’s signature stunt was to drop from overhanging tree branches onto opened window sills of uninitiated females in the all-women’s dorm. After dropping onto the sill, Frenchy would ensure he had an audience before standing on his hind legs and flashing his fleshy, little squirrel nuts at the horrified young women. Once satisfied with the results, Frenchy would scurry around the room, snatch an unattended snack, and make his escape.
Having heard the screams, upperclass(wo)men would come by to console the Fresh(wo)men whose lives would never be the same.
My first encounter with Frenchy Bob came on a Monday morning during the autumn of 1993. What I thought to be extraordinary at the time, I later learned to be a routine event. As I approached the Northwest quadrant of the Oval (the central mall) via a packed sidewalk, I noticed the flood of human traffic parting some thirty yards ahead as if someone had puked in the middle of the pathway.
When I reached the spot of departure, I stopped to observe an angry, male squirrel jumping around on his hind legs and hissing at the passerbys as if he were about to fly onto their collective faces and scratch out their eyes at any moment. This was simply a Monday morning for Frenchy Bob. I got the feeling it was how he got himself up to face the rest of his week.
If staking out a sidewalk was how Frenchy sobered himself for the start of the week, bombing unaware students with pinecones was his version of a weekend drinking game. Frenchy never scored a direct hit on me, but not for a lack of trying. I survived a few close scrapes. These bombing events always occurred during less trafficked moments like a Friday afternoon or a Saturday. Never let it be said that Frenchy wasn’t sporting. Surely it would have been much easier to strike a human when the sidewalk was teaming with targets. But I always got the feeling Frenchy wanted these moments to be personal. He wanted you to know that he had targeted you individually.
The fact that a squirrel dropped a pinecone at the exact moment you passed underneath him was meant to be understood as intentional. The fact that Frenchy exchanged more excited chittering with his friends after a direct hit was meant to dispel any remaining doubt in the target’s mind. You could be sure of it. Frenchy had his eyes set on you, and your moment would come…when you least expected it.
At the Desk This Week
I started in on the final read through and rewriting process for Season Three of the Green Ones this week. I’ve made my overall notes on the things I need to keep my eyes open for. I’m pleased with the tone and the overall theme of Awakenings. This season serves as the awakening of the main characters to their places on the chessboard. They have the eyes opened to how they are being manipulated as pieces of the game. And they also awaken to the multiverse. The next season promises to be an awesome, knock-down, drag-out battle during which the player-pieces will attempt to overrun the masters.
If You Wish to Start Reading The Green Ones…
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