Gus Bode
Daily Egyptian
I think I have a problem. I'm not sure, but I think I have a stalker.
It all began in April when I was eating a Small Wonder from Quatro's while sitting by Campus Lake. I was waiting to see if there would be any good duck fights when a portly little squirrel scampered up to my feet. He stared at me with his sad eyes, and I felt sorry for him, so I dropped an entire slice on the ground for him. The little butterball ate it in about 23 seconds.
Every time I ate by Campus Lake, which was three times a day - Have you ever seen a duck fight? They belong in Vegas! - my little squirrel friend would show up and beg me for food. I just couldn't help but give him a Big Mac, a 40-ounce soda or a cigarette here and there. It got to the point where my squirrel let me hand-feed him and even let me poke his fat, little belly like that doughboy. He never giggled though - just grunted.
I thought the squirrel and I were becoming good friends, and I named him Darryl. My new friend and I often went to women's track meets together and sometimes even went to the movies. After about three weeks of friendship, I noticed Darryl weighed about 12 pounds.
What's worse is the campus police found out about the duck fights - and the fact that I had started an entire gambling ring around them - and told me to stay away from the lake for a while. I went about three weeks without seeing Darryl and just figured he noticed I stopped coming to the lake and decided to go on with his life. That's when the really weird stuff started to happen.
I came home one day and found an acorn with a nail through it, covered in red liquid that I hope was sweet and sour sauce. Then I found a half-eaten box of chocolates by my door three days later. The chocolates that were still there had little bites taken out of them like someone was sampling them. The next day, I was walking to class and noticed about 200 of my pictures from the Daily Egyptian strewn all over a tree.
But the worst came four days after that. I woke up at about 2 a.m. to the sound of scratching at my window. It was really dark and I couldn't see anything. Then lightning struck and I saw a short glimpse of Darryl standing on my windowsill with my name written all over his body while he pounded on the glass. Lightning flashed again and he was gone.
I sat up, crept to the window, looked out and was satisfied that Darryl had left. But before I turned back around, I heard my door open and close. The light switch was on the other side of the room and I could hear the pitter-patter of Darryl's chubby little paws and what I think was the sound of a squirrel crying.
Then there was silence. I stood alone in my pitch-black room with only the sound of the rain to give me comfort.
Then I heard the flicker of a lighter and saw the glow from Darryl's cigarette illuminate from my bed. I panicked and jumped through my window, running down the street, screaming like a 12-year-old girl at a slasher movie. I slept outside Pita Planet because Darryl avoided health food like the plague.
The next morning I went back to my place with only a tree limb as defense. Wal-Mart wouldn't sell me a gun because I was drenched, wearing nothing but boxer shorts and had a "crazy look" in my eye.
Fortunately, Darryl was gone and I survived with only a heart burned into my bed sheets with a cigarette butt. That was the last I heard from him, so I just figured he got it out of his system. But I got in the shower today and noticed "Darryl luvs Gus" was carved into the wall.
I don't know. Maybe I should just kill him and get it over with. Oh, who am I kidding. I think I'm just going to leave a value meal outside my door every day and hope he doesn't kill me.
Published on 11/17/05; 12:24:44 PM
