There is no squirrel… there is no squirrel

Yep.  The 5:59 breakfast voice greeted me with another zinger.  This one was shouted out when I mentioned that I was awoken at 4 am by what sounded like someone scratching in the ceiling directly above me.  John stated that it was him staggering in the night to the toilet to take a piss.  But I countered his statement with the question of “If it was you then you did it in the ceiling above my head because this sound was literally directly above me.” Surprisingly he had no answer.   I had won the right for silence in the house for at least ten seconds.  Just enough time to get a fresh new cup of that delicious coffee he had bought me 24 hours earlier at the nearby gas station (By the way, he was most upset with the fact that the grocery store was not open at 6:07 am!).

Then John revved it up a notch.  “What did it sound like… exactly?” he blurted out.  Gulping down my coffee I said “I think it’s a squirrel and if that’s the case I can probably borrow my buddy John’s squirrel trap.”   “Leave the fucking squirrel to play with its nuts”  was his worldly retort.  I wanted to respond to him with “So you want a squirrel playing with its nuts living in the ceiling above your step-son?” but I bit my tongue.  Instead, I said that it was important to not have a squirrel living in the roof of his house as it was probably doing things up there that he himself was doing at precisely the same time.

Wrong thing to say.  “Are you fucking accusing me of playing with my nuts at 4 am this morning?”  The conversation ended right then and there as I repeated softly to myself over and over again  “there is no squirrel…. there is no squirrel… there is no squirrel!”

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