The Great Squirrel Race, Part 1 (fiction)

Did I ever tell you about the Great Squirrel Race? No? Well, it happened a long, long time ago, when I was a young lad.

It was when Joey--my best friend--and I were bored one hot summer day.

Now, you might think that Joey, since he was so small and his clothes so poor-looking, was of no account, but he was the best friend a boy could have and sharp as a whip at that. Why, I remember the time . . . but, then, I'm getting ahead of myself, as I always seem to do, and here I was going to tell you about squirrels.

Joey and I both had pet squirrels. It wasn't so uncommon at the time, since our folks--well, our pa's--shot so many big squirrels out of the trees. See, there was a powerful need for food at that time, so any living thing that was running around had better look out. Squirrels especially.

They were so abundant that it seemed like you could should one, eat 'em the same night, and the next day another would appear in its place. Boy, the Lord sure do work in mysterious ways sometimes!

Anyway, since all them squirrels done got shot (and eaten), there were naturally lots of baby squirrels left around.