All that we see or seem,
is but a dream
within a dream.

- Edgar Allen Poe

The rebel squirrel leader was beginning to doubt himself.
Maybe this wasn't the Devil's trick after all,
maybe this really was his life.
Maybe he WAS just a fat rodent
living in someone's backyard,
waiting for handouts.
Maybe he DID sleep too much of his life away,
preferring to live in his exciting dreams
rather than reality.
But what about this body? He had started keeping track,
mentally of everything he put in his mouth.
Today, it was a piece of buttered toast for breakfast
and 3 peanuts for lunch. He was anticipating his usual
handful of walnut halves and a little fruit for dinner
from the old woman in the house.
"This was not enough to make and keep me obese." He thought.

After hearing the tinkling of a small bell
for several minutes, Dupres made his way out on a limb
that stopped just short of a privacy fence at the edge of the property.
He looked out over the neighbor's yard and saw a cat sneaking
around a suspended birdfeeder. The birds would not come near as
the bell on his collar had given the cat away.

But the feline looked on pathetically as if one of the birds
might go insane on this day and actually come to the birdfeeder
with him prowling underneath.

A gust of wind caught the branch and tossed it slightly
while the squirrel maneuvered for a better grip.

The cat turned his face up toward the tree,
Dupres instantly recognized him as the cat that he had killed
on the prison ship in 1791.
"You're dead," he blurted before he could stop himself.

"Shut up, fat boy," the cat growled, "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"But I killed you." Dupres said, defiantly, "How is it that you live?"

The cat sighed and turned from the feeder. "See what you did?" He fussed.
"You blew my cover."

"Please," begged Dupres, "Come up and talk to Me."

"No." said the cat as he sat down and lifted a paw to wash.
"Then tell me," the squirrel persisted, "How long have you been here
. . . in this neighborhood?"

The cat put down his paw and cocked his head at the squirrel,
"Well, if you must know . . . All my life, I was born here in this house."

Dupres looked up at the sky and felt
as if he was floating above his body.

"God help me . . . This IS my life."

To be continued . . .

If this makes no sense to you
And you want it to,
There is a link to Time Travel
inside where you can catch up.

While you're here, send or receive a disturbing,
yet free postcard!


Enter Grumpy's Letter Contest!

You are nut number

The opinions expressed by Stockton Dupres do not
necessarily reflect the views of this website or its creator.

All squirrel animation and photo alterations by b.kee(c)1999
Original squirrel photo (c)Gregg Elovich

Most Music on this site from unknown sources


This Website ©Grey Squirrel's Page of Silliness 1998 All Rights Reserved