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The Return Of The Munk

August 6, 2022

Several months ago, I wrote a piece about my nemesis the Chipmunk. (See

There I was in my serene bliss, thinking back upon the days when Mr. Chipmunk was torturing me with his crafty acts of thievery. I sighed a bit to think he had gone to the great grain silo in the sky after being gathered up in the jaws of our neighbor’s dog. Cruel fate but what did it matter? The little son of a bitch was gone! Or so I thought.

The warm afternoon enveloped me as I sat with my gin and tonic in hand, gazing into my green backyard. At first I thought I saw a bird out of the corner of my eye. It was just a little movement in the grass but it looked loathsomely familiar. I strained my eyes for a closer look. Good God, it was him! And then I thought I saw three tiny jumping bumps behind him. Lord, he was back and this time he brought the whole family!

I stumbled up and out of my chair to break the news to my wife in the kitchen. “The little bastard’s back and now there are three more of them!” I blurted. “Three of what?” was the response. We both went back onto the deck and watched as three (or was it four) chipmunks romped back and forth through our yard. It was like the movie Groundhog Day but with a smaller cast. I jumped full on into my yard as if to protect my fiefdom from these varmints. They immediately scattered and I was left with the same question as months earlier: What to do?

In the First Battle of The Munk, we decided against the plank. It seemed too cruel to lure an animal with food to a drowning in a bucket. Besides, I’m not much for dispatching animals of any kind, even those who cause me grief. But as the chipmunk continued to wreak his havoc in my yard in his second annual assault, I remembered Walmart has a nice Daisy pellet rife with a scope. Hmm.

We thought about what to do for a week or so. The rifle was purchased. I reluctantly took a couple of shots with that pellet rifle but I only managed to break the bird feeder that my nemesis sat upon. Finally, I just let it go. In a world that is full of nuclear threats from third world midgets and crazy people shooting each other down for naught, it seemed as though a my battle with the chipmunk paled in importance. Yes, it is still frustrating to be constantly outwitted by a rodent and yes I would rather he find someone else to haunt. But I’m sure he or one of his spawn will be back every spring just to let me know who’s really the boss. I am destined to forever hear that now familiar faint murmur from my back yard: Veni, Vidi, et torquentur.

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From → America, Humor, Writing

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