Monday, December 01, 2008

The Vanquishing of the House Squirrel

‘Twas the Sunday after Thanksgiving, a cold and windy day
The family was unpacking from a festive trip away
The high lord of the manor, Son of Wilkin, a mighty Scot
Prepared to venture out to see what provisions could be got

Son of Wilkin rode his mighty steed, a red and sturdy charger
Texas-born and Jersey-trained, strong as an ox, but larger
Across the hills and dales they ranged, through wet and periled way
At the village farm of K. Rogers, they found and slew their prey

The hero left behind to hold the house intact
The lady of the house, a Commodore in fact
A brave and noble lass, beautiful as well
Yet unprepared to face the impending squirrel hell

Staying with the dame, two bairns were hidden low
In the depths of the castle, entranced by picture shows
The innocents were practiced in the art of rodent care
But had yet to face a battle with a furry fusilier

Unknown to all the innocents, both at the home and far
A furry interloper has conspired to go to war
While the family was traveling to visit relatives respected
A squirrel had surreptitiously found an entry unprotected

In the chimney of the banquet hall, the rodent found a hole
Sneaking past the guards, alerting not a soul
The creature crept unseen just above the fire grate
And upon the flimsy flue, he built a nest to wait

The lurker’s plans were nearly foiled by the cold and wintery weather
As the hero built a roaring fire of poplar and of heather
But the evil rodent suffered the fire, awaiting the hero’s leaving
For demons from the depths of hell have no fear of fire breathing

Biding its time, the monster lurked above the roaring flames
Watching the lady and the children, playing Yuletide games
When all had left the hall, and the fire was unattended
The toothy desperado, from his hiding place descended

With the speed derived from magic of the place we dare not mention
The squirrel crossed the flames and headed for the manor kitchen
Blacked whiskers were the only clue from whence he had descended
Scorches on his feet and paws were miraculously mended

Neither victuals nor victims did the treetop horror find
So to the living quarters did the evildoer wind
The lady of the house he found, wrapping Yuletide presents
And he crept upon her quietly, so to conceal his presence

But the lady was quite clever, and her hearing quite acute
And she heard the evildoer as he travelled on his route
Turning with a jerk, her cutting tools displayed
She presented to the rodent a future being filleted

So startled was the enemy that he paused in his malevolence
And backed into a open privy due to its convenience
The lady of the castle, espying an advantage
Closed the door behind the rogue, sealing in the savage

The monster railed and howled, shaking the foundations
Interrupting the heirs’ attempts at homework procrastinations
But the door was sturdy maple, designed for much abusing
And the beast settled down to wait for an opportunity of its choosing

Moments passed, the house in fear of how the battle would conclude
When from the east the lord returned to greet his loving brood
The words he heard on entering the castles stately hall
“There’s a squirrel in the house”, a truly dreadful call

The master donned his gloves of steel, his cloak of iron he wore
His boots of leather and, of course, his hat of ancient lore
From deep within the armory he found the squirrel destroyer
A weapon much more powerful than even the castle lawyer

With his family in support, our hero approached the door
Opened up the door and took pictures of “before”
Then with a prayer to Odin for strength of will and brawn
Son of Wilk entered the room, prepared to fight ‘til dawn

They circled one another, the monster and his foe
Outside there was much crying, mournful calls of heartfelt woe
For the children were bewitched by the squirrel’s beady eyes
By his fuzzy little tail and eloquently tailored lies

“I’m just like your little hamsters”, the squirrel had whispered to them
“Like your mice and guinea pigs, far too cute to be condemned”
“Listen not!” roared our hero “to these lies perfidious!”
“This is a monster monstrous foul, and here to murder us!”

The battle raged o’er countertops and in and out of tubs
The earth was rended by the force, breaking trees, uprooting shrubs
At last the beast was cornered, worn down, too tired to fight
And the hero braced himself to give the final blow for right

Yet, the hero was not hardened to the cries of his own progeny
The creature was not to blame, he thought, for its demon-bred phylogeny
And rather than delivering the final crushing blow
The hero caught the beast instead and tossed it out into the snow

The evil squirrel, its spirit broke, retreated far from sight
N’er to return to menace us, no more to here alight
The hero welcomed cheers of joy from the lady and her wards
He stored away his squirrel bow, his arrows and his swords

The fight was won, the town rejoiced, the hero took his bow
His weapons stored, his armor cleaned, the castle safe for now
But the hero’s thoughts were grave even as his body was to mend
Where there’s one, there are some more … this is not the end


Lotstodo said...

Hats (of ancient lore) off! This is amazing poetry.

Scott said...

Thank you very much. I am always amazed when people actually read obscure blog postings ... and then take the time to leave a comment. It validates my existence in ways unimaginable. Truly you have bettered the world to a level beyond measure.