The Three Magic Squirrels

I have written before in these annals of my revelation that, when called upon, I was unable to think of song lyrics to sing to my lullaby-needy child. Turns out this phenomenon extends to story telling as well. When I was a wee lad, my father would tell me stories about Little P and his friends Finn McCool the Leprechaun, and Clavnis Rafferstan, the Rabbit with the Removable Ears. In fact, last weekend he told Conrad the story of how the three of them took a ride in a flying garbage truck. He had a roomful of adults captivated, almost as much as Conrad.

I tend to think of myself as a fairly imaginative person, but as in so many things in life, the real test is how well you manage at 4 o’clock in the morning.

Here’s the story I told Conrad at 4 o’clock this morning:

The Three Magic Squirrels

Once upon a time there were three magic squirrels, and their names were Magic Squirrel 1, Magic Squirrel 2 and Magic Squirrel 3. Magic Squirrel 1 said to the other magic squirrels, “I have to go to the DMV. Do you guys want to come with?”

“I do,” said Magic Squirrel 2, “because I’d like to go to the Family Dollar store that is near the DMV.”

“Okay,” declared Magic Squirrel 1. “Do you want to drive, or do you want me to drive?”

“I want you to drive,” replied Magic Squirrel 2, “for I have a bunch of stuff in my back seat.”

And Magic Squirrel 3 said, “I am a magic squirrel.”

The End.

Coming soon: The Three Magic Squirrels go to Radio Shack