An Affair for Squirrels

By Melissa Mongi
Collegian Staff
September 27, 2006

Life is grand being a 20th and Olney squirrel. Living here isn’t easy, but has its benefits. I’ve met some of them suburban squirrels and they’re pretty lame. They think they’re special with their Latin words like “rodentia” and their high SAT (Squirrel Aptitude Test) scores. I got an 1100, snobs, OK? So, chew on that acorn!

Atop the trees of La Salle, I nestle into my long, puffy tail. I look out onto the campus as the sun peaks over that weird statue. The first groups of students trudge off to their respective classes, and that’s when I strike. I know I should preserve acorns for winter but this is too good.

One by one, high above their heads, I launch my nutty missiles. A tall, half-sleeping male walks by. Fire one! I wind up and it’s a miss! I grab another projectile nut, waiting for my next target. A short, sweet-looking blonde heads right under my aim. “Sorry, blondey,” I think as I send my acorn right atop her head. The dunk it makes on her cranium resounds. Victory! She massages her head, looks up at me, and swears.

Being a squirrel means never letting your guard down. Even when I’m holding a half eaten egg-roll, I know that a bystander could try to ruin my lunch. I have two options; drop the egg-roll and run, or hold on strong with my beady eyes steadied until they understand completely that I am an Olney squirrel, and I mean business.

mongim1@lasalle.edu