Small Conceits

Musings. Stories. Poems.


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THE CHIPMUNK LETTERS, The “Coyote Incident”

Chipmunk: “Hey. How’s it going?”

Coyote: <staring distractedly at the house> “Huh? Oh…ok, I guess.”

Chipmunk: “What’re you doing out here?”

Coyote: “Not sure. Mom was reading something, then she started tearing the paper up with her teeth, spitting it on the floor, and jumping up and down on it.”

Chipmunk: “Huh. Sounds pretty serious.”

Coyote: “I know! I was a little worried about her, so I suggested she curb her caffeine intake. And now I’m out here.”

Chipmunk: “Hmmm. That’s strange…” <dramatic pause> “You know, I always find that nibbling a strawberry helps me when I’m confused. Here, try one.” <holds out paw with a strawberry in it> “But only take one bite. The first bite is the best. Then we’ll get you another one. There’s plenty to go around.”

Coyote: “Yeah, there are a lot of them–” <shaking her head to clear it> “Hey…wait a minute…” <squints her eyes at the chipmunk, then smiles an evil smile> “Say, buddy, isn’t that a hawk shadow gliding in this direction?”

Chipmunk: “Hoooo! Lookit the time! Gotta run.” <disappears down a hole>

Coyote: “Stupid rodents.”


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THE CHIPMUNK LETTERS, Volley 3

Dear Human:

A shoebox, a stick, and some birdseed? How stupid do you think we are? Even peanut butter wouldn’t lure us into such an infantile trap.

Regardless, this openly hostile act is not without consequences. Consider yourself warned.

— The Chipmunks

——

Dear Chipmunks:

OK, so I need to raise the bar a little. I went shoe shopping yesterday, so I had the boxes on hand and figured I’d give it a try. How stupid do I think you are? You’re RODENTS, fer pete’s sake!

Consider the shoebox thing a warning shot. You will cease and desist with the strawberry nibbling, or I’ll have to kick it up a notch and bring out the big guns.

Besides, what are you going to do to me? Nibble my toes off?

— The Human

——

Dear Human:

Your threats are a declaration of war! Prepare yourself!

We will now begin taking bites out of even the green strawberries. None will ripen! None will be edible! This. Is. WAR!!!!!!

— The Chipmunks

——

Dear Mangy Vermin:

If you even LOOK like you’re eating the green strawberries, I’LL COME DOWN ON YOU LIKE A HAMMER! I’LL BLAST YOUR LITTLE STRIPY HIDES BACK INTO LAST WEEK!

I’LL TEAR YOUR LITTLE LIMBS FROM YOUR BODIES AND USE THEM AS TOOTHPICKS!

You WILL NOT destroy my strawberry crop! You will be BURIED!!!!!

— The Superior Species

——

Dear Human:

Have you considered trying decaf?

— The Chipmunks


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THE CHIPMUNK LETTERS, Volley 2

Dear Chipmunks:

I see you persist in your one-bite approach to eating my strawberries. If this doesn’t change, I might have to take action.

Re: strawberry ownership – These plants were started from six plants given to me by my father, who brought them here from Pennsylvania. I planted them, cared for them, and helped them spread and grow. You are simply consumers. You can’t lay claim to them. They are mine.

— The Human

P.S. That bird-shaped shadow that casts itself over the strawberry patch on many late mornings is not a hawk. Nothing to fear there.

P.P.S. Even if it were a hawk, they pose no threat to chipmunks. Feel free to dance around in the strawberries, even when you see that shadow. In fact, bring your family and friends out to play! They’ll appreciate the shade on warm days.

——

Dear Human:

We have burrowed and tunneled under the strawberries. We have only to reach out and pluck one, whereas you have to leave your above-ground den and walk over here to enjoy them. We re-assert our claim to ownership, since possession is 9/10s of the law, and we are certainly much more in possession of them than you are. We will, therefore, continue to eat them whenever we please.

Besides, we fail to see why this is such an issue. In a week or so you won’t even be able to keep up with picking, cleaning, and hulling them. You can’t possibly eat all of these berries! Human greed is a terrible thing. Give it up! Come over from the dark side and see things the Chipmunk way.

Re: the hawk – We’ve heard that one before. And we’d know better anyway. There’s this little thing called “genetic memory.” Which you’d be more familiar with if your species hadn’t gotten all Cartesian with that “I think; therefore, I am” stuff.

— The Chipmunks

——

Dear Chipmunks:

Descartes was a fool.

And your mother has a squirrel tail.

— The Human

—–

Dear Human:

“Yo mama” jabs? Really?! Why don’t you go and “evolve” some more? Obviously, standing up on two legs isn’t quite far enough.

— The Chipmunks


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THE CHIPMUNK LETTERS, Volley 1

Two summers ago, I had what could only be described as a chipmunk infestation. At strawberry time. IN the strawberries. %@&$!!!

Dear Chipmunks:

If you are going to take bites out of my strawberries, please eat the whole berry before biting into the next one. While I realize there are many strawberries out there, if you nibble a bit more consciously and judiciously, there will be more to go around. I am not opposed to sharing. I do not, however, like waste.

— The Human

——

Dear Human:

What do you mean *your* strawberries? You live over there, in that weird, hard-sided, above-ground nest. We live directly below the strawberries in nice, normal, underground nests. Therefore, the strawberries are ours.

We ARE opposed to sharing, as we have many mouths to feed, and you have only one big one, unless the white wolf-beast eats strawberries, too. (It wouldn’t surprise us that creatures who cohabitate with you mutate and adopt strange habits.) So, kindly keep your nasty naked paws out of our strawberries.

— The Chipmunks

——

(It’s ON, people! Arrogant little rodents!)