Denton closed his front door, turned, took two steps down his walkway, and froze in his tracks.
They were back.
The grey squirrel in the middle of his front walk, not five feet away from him, looked up into his eyes. It’s beady gaze burning into his brain.
“More nuts! More nuts now!”
The sound bounced around in his skull like marbles in an empty can rolling downhill.
Denton screamed and threw his arms up, launching his briefcase into the air and onto the roof of his neighbor’s house. In a blur he turned and ran back to his front door, frantically trying to find the correct key on the ring.
Denton’s neighbor, who had been in mid-good morning wave stopped short and picked up the pace to his car and quickly locked the doors.
As it slammed shut behind Denton, he caught his breath as he leaned back on the door.
“Not again. This is not happening again.”, Denton thought as images of squirrels pursuing him through forests, down streets, across parks, and very nearly everywhere a squirrel could be found flashed through his mind.
“More nuts!”
The sound of small claws scratching at the front door grew louder, as if the squirrel had company. Lots of company.
Denton shrieked and run up the stairs.
Denton had learned at a very early age that squirrels were out to get him. Always demanding more nuts, rushing up to him, chewing their way into his attic (before he lined the inside of his attic with aluminum sheeting), and being intimidating terrors with bushy tails; this was how Denton had viewed squirrels since he was no more than five years old. He also learned fairly quickly that he alone was able to hear the squirrel collective hive mind and their incessant demands.
He had tried to placate them, putting bad after bag of peanuts, sunflower seeds, and whatever else he could find outside for the squirrels. But it was never enough. They always returned and demanded more.
He thought he had escaped when he moved to this new town. The last two months had been squirrel free. Until this morning.
He peeked out a window on the second floor and saw dozens of squirrels on his lawn. He knew there would be more and began to scan the trees.
A small, furry grey head popped up on the other side of the window.
“More nuts!”
Denton jumped backwards, ramming his head into the hall table, knocking himself senseless. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the sound of wood splintering downstairs and the scrabbling of dozens of claws on the linoleum floor by the front door.