Don't Be Squirrelly

That's going to be the title of my best-selling children's book. It's going to start a whole series of books that will soon replace Aesop's Fables as the leading source of moral education for children nationwide.

Want to hear about the book?

I know you do.

Gather round, children. To the reading rug. Form a circle. Now sit indian-style.* And let's all sing the Story-Time Song.

[Cue music to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star"]
Listen, Listen, Little Kids.
Here we are for story time.
What awaits is suspense-soaked,
Like poor Hunter's underpants. . .
Listen, Listen, Little Kids.
Now shut up for story time!
[End music]

There once was a squirrel named Mr. McSquirrel. Mr. McSquirrel was friends with Mr. Squirrelty. They lived in the same tree with a whole bunch of squirrel friends.

But there was one little squirrel who didn't quite fit in. Her name was Ms. Squirrelton. Ms. Squirrelton seemed sad. Her days just never seemed to go as planned. If she wanted to play tag with the other squirrels, they would decide to play with their nuts. If she wanted to go nut-hunting, they would play tag. And thus it became an endless cycle. Ms. Squirrelton became very sad and lonely.

She was not entirely alone, of course. She lived in a tree with lots and lots of other squirrels. And because there were lots and lots of other squirrels, they started to notice that she never played with the other squirrels' nuts, like everyone else did. So Mr. McSquirrel took it upon himself to find out what was going on.

"Hey, Ms. MacSquirrelfy, you're friends with Ms. Squirrelton, aren't you?"

"Why yes, Mr. McSquirrel, I am. Why do you ask?"

"Well, Ms. Squirrelton's seemed kinda down lately. . . do you know if she's alright?"

"Oh, I don't know. . . I thought she seemed out of sorts, too. Do you think we should try to talk to her?"

"That's a great idea, Ms. MacSquirrelfy! In fact, let's get everyone to talk to her!"

"Superdooper! I'll go tell all my squirrel friends!"

"Peachy keen! I'll do the same!"

And so it went. Mr. McSquirrel and Ms. MacSquirrelfy told all of their squirrel friends that Ms. Squirrelton wasn't doing so well. Suddenly, all the little squirrels wanted to be Ms. Squirrelton's friend. But she knew something was going on. The sudden bombardment of requests for friendship was rather obvious.

That was when Mr. McSquirrel got a great idea.

"Hey, Mr. Squirrelty!"

"Oh, hey there, Mr. McSquirrel. How's it goin'?"

"Not so good. Our plan to befriend Ms. Squirrelton backfired. She could tell the squirrels weren't sincere."

"Gee, that's too bad."

"But I have a better idea than before."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Well, here's what I think we should do: I'll gather all the information I can about Ms. Squirrelton and what she likes, and then we'll give all that information to you, and then you can go date her and be her best new friend!"

". . . umm. . . Mr. McSquirrel, have you lost your mind?"

"What?"

"Don't you think that's kinda wrong?"

"No. . . is it?"

"Mr. McSquirrel, I can't just tamper with someone's emotions like that. That's mean."

"I'll pay you. I'll let you eat my nuts."

"Hmm. . ."

"For a whole week!"

"Deal!"

And so Mr. McSquirrel went about, asking all of the squirrel friends about Ms. Squirrelton. He needed to know her favorite games, her favorite types of trees, where she wanted to raise her future baby squirreltons, and so on. After he had gathered the information, he put all of his field notes into a special manila envelope, marked it "Confidential," and then stole into the night to hand it off to Mr. Squirrelty in true James Bond fashion.

Mr. Squirrelty rushed back to his tree-limb abode, where he spent all night poring over the documents. He was determined to begin his mission in the morning. It had been a hard nut-gathering season, so anything he could earn from Mr. McSquirrel would be a great help. With the pay-off in mind, he prepared to woo the distraught Ms. Squirrelton.

That morning, Mr. Squirrelty gathered a tree-warming gift and scrambled up the trunk to see Ms. Squirrelton. She was surprised to see him, being that no one ever visited her. But after the past week's invasion of fake friends, she was understandably skeptical of Mr. Squirrelty.

"Hello. . ."

"Hi! How are you today, Ms. Squirrelton?"

"I'm alright. . . yourself?"

"I'm great! And I can't tell you how wonderful this little alcove is. You've truly done wonders with this color scheme."

"Thanks. . . Did you stop by for any particular reason?"

"Well, no. Is it illegal to want to spend time with a lovely lady like yourself?"

"Please tell me you're leaving now."

"Wait. Okay. I confess--"

"I knew it. Would you all just leave me alone!?"

"--I just got so nervous when I thought about asking you out that I said that stupid line. I knew I shouldn't say it, but it just kinda slipped out. I'm sorry."

"Wait. Did you just say you wanted to ask me out?"

"Yes. . . I mean. . . I'm kind of shy, and it took me a long time to muster up the courage to come here, and. . . oh, this was a stupid mistake. I'll just leave now."

"No, no! Mr. Squirrelty. Stay. Would you care for some almond vanilla tea?"

"That would be lovely."

And so Mr. Squirrelty and Ms. Squirrelton hit it off. They started spending all their time together. They got along famously. They talked, they walked, they ran, they played with nuts, they played in the trees, they did everything together.

As their relationship developed, all the little squirrel friends really seemed to notice a change in Ms. Squirrelton. She was social. She was radiant. She was out and about. She was happy.

Mr. McSquirrel noticed the change more than anyone else. He was extremely proud of Mr. Squirrelty for the good work, in addition to being proud of himself for the seemingly fantastic idea. He even told Mr. Squirrelty that, if he continued to make Ms. Squirrelton happy, all the little squirrel friends would contribute to a special fund of nuts for Mr. Squirrelty. They would call it a sort of tax for the common good.

But the gears in Mr. Squirrelty's head started turning. Did he like Ms. Squirrelton? Was he enjoying their time together just as much as she was? What if they decided to stay together for a long time? He could use the extra nuts, but would it be wrong to take them? He needed to talk to Ms. Squirrelton.

"Honey, I need to talk to you."

"What is it, Mr. Squirrelty?"

"Well, Ms. Squirrelton, there's something I need to tell you."

"Okay. . ."

And so he disclosed everything--how he had been hired to date her because the initial plan failed, how everyone had been worried about her, and how the whole community was so thrilled that she appeared to be happy.

Ms. Squirrelton didn't say a word. She stared at the squirrel she had called her own for the past several months--some of the happiest months of her life--and she couldn't believe what she saw. She didn't see a squirrel who loved her and cared about her. She saw a squirrel who viewed her as a means to an end--a squirrel who was using her for nothing more than a paycheck.

"You did what?"

"Ms. Squirrelton--"

"No. No 'Ms. Squirrelton.' No anything. I don't want to hear from you ever again. You take your extra nuts, and you shove 'em!"

With that she was off and up the tree. But Mr. Squirrelty wasn't going to let her get away that easily. In the midst of his profit-making scheme, he had truly come to care about Ms. Squirrelton. So he chased her up the tree, but she went down the other side, then they were darting toward a different tree, up the trunk, jumping to the limbs of a different tree, and then back down to the ground again, and so on until Ms. Squirrelton reached her humble abode.

Because she was a squirrel, she couldn't slam the door and lock it, but just for cases like these, the squirrels have a special code of honor, that makes them pretend they've just slammed and locked a nonexistent door. So Mr. Squirrelty arrived seconds too late, to find that Ms. Squirrelton was already inside her home and was not coming out.

He shed a few little squirrel tears, and then realized that it was time to move on. He was never getting Ms. Squirrelton back. It was pointless to try. . . unless they would raise his salary for doing so.

Ms. Squirrelton became even more reclusive than ever before, except for all those nights she spent at the ground-level raves, trying to drown her sorrows in amaretto sours.

The two of them would never be the same again.


Now that we've finished our story, what have you kids learned? Did you learn a valuable life lesson? What is the moral of the story?

. . .

That's right. It's wrong to use people as a means to an end. That means you can't sell people, and you can't date someone just to win money on a bet, and you can't pay someone to woo someone else. You get the idea.

Don't be squirrelly.

*"Indian-style." Is this term still used by elementary school teachers? It hardly seems politically correct any more. . . interesting. . .