The Return of Squirrel Boy
There he sat, in the center of his sacred vision circle. Here he had expected to labor for seven days and seven nights to acquire a new totem and have his medicine returned to him. But instead, his old totem—or at least the degraded Sunset version—had returned to him. He was in awe, and considered his words carefully and with reverence, “Wise totem, you have returned.”
The squirrel seemed almost angry. “What? Who? Returned where? Is you simple boy?”
“I am simple no longer, and once again powerful I am sure—thanks all to you Chief Squirrel.”
“Chief? I ain’t no redskin boy! Hell, when I watched Western Theater on Saturday afternoons wit my ole man it used ta piss me off dat da stupid White People behine da wagons didn’ jus’ shoot dem horses out from under dose redskins en make infantry out a dem!”
“But wise squirrel, you have spoken to me, spoken for the others of your kind. You know I can only speak to one of you at a time. So, if you are not the chief of squirrels in this place, who is?”
The squirrel came forward, twitched his whiskers angrily, and rose to his full height, which made him almost half as tall as Three-Rivers was while seated, “Boy, I ain’t a squirrel—don’ even like squirrels in fact. I also ain’t chief a notin’ and ain’t nobody chief o’ me. You got dat chump?”
This squirrel is vexed by his high status and responsibility. By transforming before him you have wrecked his simple life and thrust him into the Eye of The Beginner.
“Oh squirrel, you would not object to me calling you wise, now would you?”
“No, but I object ta you callin’ me squirrel.”
“But wise one, you are obviously and manifestly a squirrel, are you not?”
The squirrel sat back on his haunches and wiggled his whiskers in irritation. “Well, yes. I am a damned squirrel as you say, but jus’ in da body. In ma mind I still a person.”
Oh my, this is important. Proof in the Sunset way of irrefutable scientific evidence for the transmigration of souls! Holy Robinson would be thrilled.
“Did your former person have a name?”
“Yes; en still do I might add. Name’s Gerald Hicks; would ‘ave been fiddy-two years ole tomarra.”
Three-Rivers then stood, bowed, straightened up, and introduced himself with a handshake, “Sweet-morning-of-joy to you Gerald Hicks. I am Three-Rivers son of WhiteSkyCanoe and the Sunset Lady.”
He extended his hand, and Gerald took one of his fingers in his own little appendage. “Yeah rich boy wit da important parents, pleased ta meet ya too. Actually, I surprised you didn’ die from da soakin’. I was cole enough las’ night, not havin’ a nes’ yet, and I were dry. How’d you dry off? It took all night ta ged up ta da bridge and come back down on dis side. You realize how scary da night is when you only eight inches tall boy?”
“I imagine it is frightful indeed. I danced all the day and night to get dry. Thank you for coming to determine my state-of-being. That must have been tiring.”
“You tellin’ me; squirrels aren’ exacly built fo distance.”
“Gerald, now that my vision quest is over, thanks to you, I am free to leave my camp. After I put on my pee coat you are welcome to climb up on my shoulder. This would be most convenient for speaking as well.”
“Well sure boy. I were ole when I died en come back as an ole squirrel—some kine’a Hindu joke if ya aks me. You loog young. Nothin’ wrong wit you helpin’ an ole dude out.”
Gerald then vaulted onto his shoulder with one swift leap and perched in a contented manner as Three-Rivers gathered the rest of his things.
Father swooped down from the Starlit Path with your lost powers. WhiteSkyCanoe has returned!
The Transmigration of Gerald Hicks
Three-Rivers had already guessed at the location of Gerald’s transmigration. Thus began his scientific inquiry called investigation as soon as he had gathered his things, “Should we go around by the upstream crossing Gerald?”
“Sure, dat da quickes’ way.”
“Gerald, could I ask about the circumstances of your transmigration?”
“You mean you wanna know how I got turned inta a squirrel?”
“Yes Gerald. I am a medicine-man, and an Escort of the Dead as well, and I am possessed by a great ghost. So I am both familiar with and curious about such things.”
“Is you dead too boy?”
“I believe that I have died after past lives, and have been brought back in this form of punishment called handicapped-take-the-ramp-slow-person because I was an evil man, or perhaps even an evil squirrel in a former life. I think I was once an arrogant squirrel and then later an evil man. But I am just making the guess called educated. You are the first person I have met who remembers their transmigration. This is a unique opportunity for me to learn.”
“Boy, you got some stuff wit you. What you ten years ole? Yo mamma probly only twenny-fo. What you know ‘bout anything.”
“Oh Mister Hicks, I think you shall find out soon enough.”
Gerald then dug his claws into Three-Rivers neck. “Okay boy, lez stop right hea’! Now you tell da truth ‘cause I a dead dude dat ‘ill know if you a liar!”
A violent squirrel—I should like to introduce him to DeathSong. What a team they would make!
“Yes Gerald, the truth only.”
“Okay, you some kine’a serial killa in trainin’ out practicin’ on animals—like squirrels for instance—or you jus’ some kine’a crazy kid.”
“Oh Gerald, I am neither insane or a killer. In fact, I do not even eat animals, not even the hapless slow-flying bird called fried-chicken-for-finger-licking.”
“Okay, we cool den. Sorry. Let me rub dem marks out. Naw, can’t do much rubbin’ wit dese claws. Shoot, hands like dis would a come in handy when I were young en dumb en full a cum en fightin’ on da street. Dis shit be lethal if I were human-size.
“Well anyhow, ‘bout me dyin’—well it weren’t exactly planned. Not like I were goin’ ta be livin’ long wit bein’ a wino en all—no beer, jus’ da grape en fine liquor fo me—preferred Boone’s Farm, twenny-twenny Mad Dog en Mogan David. See I were homeless en a drunk. I didn’ sleep on dat bench, were jus’ where I come ta drink alone. I slep on da roof a da bakary nex ta da heat vent. You know, I a hard drinkin’ but mellow dude—no mo fightin’ or any a dat nonsense.
One day, actually I think it were two days ago, I were drinkin’ some Mad Dog on ma bench, watchin’ dese kids ride dey skateboards. A regala thing dat were. Well I got sick, started seizing up, pain down da lef’ arm—bad…”
Gerald seemed to drift off before resuming his story.
“So, the good kids, mos’ a dem I guess you’d say, wen’ runnin’ fo help. Dis one bad kid doe, he stay en lif’ ma wallet while I dyin’! Is dat some shit or what? I aks you boy, who would not wanna kick ‘is ass? So, while I dyin’ instead a sayin, ‘God I sorry fo bein’ a drunk’, I say—don’ know if it were out loud—‘Boy I gonna come back en haunt yo ass fo dis.’ En dere I goes into dis ‘ere ole-ass squirrel who jus’ los’ ‘is nes’ en lady squirrel to some big-mean-ass-young-squirrel. I tell you, I livin’ a Hindu curse. If I could ged served at da liquor stoe I’d start drinkin’ all ova again! En what worse, what really a bad deal, afer I chase dat thievin’ kid yesterday when he come back ta loog fo anything he might a missed—you know I caught ‘im drawing a mustache on ma outline when ‘e came back to da seen ‘o da crime—he shoot me in da ass wit a paper clip—look at dis ‘ere.”
Gerald then raised his tail in Three-River’s face and there was a small wound above the left rear leg.
“I’m so sorry Gerald. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Well, it ain’t like you kickin’ dat kid’s ass or nothin’. What you three-foot-eight, sixty pounds maybe? Shoot a good wind ‘ill blow you away.”
“True enough, and besides, I’m no warrior. Perhaps we can be friends Gerald. You say you have no nest, and I have run away from my mother and my father is a ghost.”
“Boy, if you don’ watch it you’ll end up jus’ like me.”
“True enough Gerald. I do already have visions called getting drunk even though it is not yet acceptable called legal. I do have powerful friends Gerald—some of whom are even alive. How would you like to be my special friend called bud?”
“Yeah, sure. You know what, as cute as you is we can put you on a street cona wit a cardboard sign en make five hundred a day! We could buy a house!”
“That would be a good trick if we were staying on Sunset Mister Hicks. Hold onto those cunning ideas. We will surely have need of them.”
