Thursday, January 13, 2011

The heartbreaking tale of Barry Gibb

This is the fantastic, yet tragic tale of Barry Gibb, the squirrel.

On this unusually warm day in March, I was 14 years old, and for some reason was in my back yard... The suddenly, from underneath my deck, a small baby squirrel emerged.

Against my mothers advice to me as a kid, I automatically bent down to get the squirrel.

To my surprise, the squirrel came right into my hands. I felt like a fucking forest nymph.
Upon inspecting the squirrel, my absurd adolescent behavior drove me to pick a unique name...

I brought Barry into my house where he was fed chex mix and milk. I thought up many different ways to conceal Barry from my father. I tried leaving him and a turned over laundry basket, but he stuck his little paws out from underneath and escaped. I tried putting him in an old ferret cage I had, but he squeezed out from in between the bars. The I put him in my bathtub and locked the bathroom door. It seemed to contain him quite nicely.

Barry Gibb was kept safely locked in my bathroom for almost a week, before his grand escape. I am almost positive the sneaky bastard had been planning it his whole stay.
Now, my Dad was not clueless to Barry's presence, since he tended to cry and leave little gifts around the house. But nonetheless, he was still quite disturbed when Barry squeezed out from underneath the bathroom door.

THE LITTLE JERK WAS HEADED DOWN THE STAIRS. Needless to say, the fact that I hid a wild animal in the house, and that the wild animal pooped all over the stairs and the bathtub, my father made me release Barry Back into nature.

Releasing Barry was very difficult. Not just because I wanted to keep him LIKE SO BAD, he would not leave me. I brought him into a forest near my house where I knew he would be safe, and set him on the ground. He promptly ran and jumped onto my leg, then climbed up my whole body so sit on my shoulder. I put him back on the ground. He chased after me. It was terribly depressing.

Fortunately for me, I am slightly smarter than a baby squirrel. I put Barry on a tree and ran for dear life.

I know Barry Gibb is still out there somewhere. He is a strong little fella, and I believe he is..... staying alive.

1 comment:

  1. A little tear was just squeezed from the inner corner of my eye - I hope Barry knows that I will always think of him as my long lost cousin. And I will now always think of you as an effing forest nymph. Peace be with you Barry. Peace be with you.