They rounded the footbridge at the upstream end of the park and spotted some other squirrels across the field by the grass embankment beneath the row of houses. Another squirrel, a small one, kept watch beneath a nest in a nearby tree. Gerald then began twitching and shifting his weight, curling his tail up behind his head.

“Do you know that squirrel Mister Hicks?”

“Umm. I certainly would like to. Loog at da tail on dat—‘ey baby, whose yer suga daddy? Ha girl? bring dat down ta Big Daddy. You see dat, how ‘er coat shines up behine ‘er neck. Oh yeah brutha, I needs me some o’ dat. Good-goog-a-moog. Come on down baby girl…”

The female squirrel then chattered angrily at Gerald and scampered into her nest. Then a large proud male squirrel came out of the nest and kept watch on Gerald from his nice broad tree limb, twitching his snout menacingly.

I think I know why Gerald Hicks the man was alone.

“Shoot, da girl ain’t got no taste no how.”

“Mister Hicks, since you are still human-of-mind. Why would you want to sex a squirrel?”

“Hellooo! Loog at me! You’d ‘ave a betta chance at gettin’ laid den ma hairy clawed ass. What human female would even loog at me? Unless a course I were beggin’ nuts en she were young en fine en wearin’ a dress en I snuck a good peek!”

What a prurient squirrel! Father, I thought animals were supposed to be pure? Oh. Yes, I understand. He is a punished and unrepentant transmigrant soul. Yes wrong-eyed boy, it looks like you have another soul to save.

Gerald then began to denigrate squirrel kind. “You know dose dumbasses up dere ‘bout ta cross da road. Can you believe dat? One gets flattened jus’ about evry day ‘round ‘ere. En da nuts, you know, dey ged a nice nut en dey burry it. Dat’s jus’ nasty. You wanna eat nuts nice en crisp right boy?”

“Yes Gerald, nuts are always best roasted if not candied.”

“Well den I aks you boy, even dough you dumb enough to try en catch a stork in da middle a da stream en almost get you own self drown, why wouldn’t a squirrel who were a perfectly good climber store his nuts up dere on da light pole on top a da transforma?”

“Sounds like some roast squirrel to me. The cords carry lightning.”

“Why bother aksin’ yer young ass. Dat’s da problem wit kids en squirrels, too young ta know nothin’.”

“Gerald is life better for squirrels in this place called park, or out in the true forest?”

“Dat’s easy. You definitely betta off ‘round here. Out in da woods you got White-boys wit guns shoot you fer sport. I’ll take bein’ a city squirrel any day.”

None of the people who escorted dogs for defecation had come to the park. It was not yet an hour after dawn. If he called Eddie now he would have plenty of time to investigate the bench before leaving. He flipped out his cell and summoned Eddie and instead summoned the ghost called Miss Voicemail who was even more in need of love than Miss GPS who possessed Hoosts’ Mercedes stallion, “Yo Eddie, Three-Rivers here at the penned-in-wild-place called park. My medicine has returned. Come and get me away please.”

Gerald perked up, “Dat’s cool you ‘ave friends ta count on. You can count on me ta do whatever a squirrel can do.”

“And I will do what a boy can do for you Mister Hicks; high-five to that sacred pact.”

For the next hand of bow-shots walked they enjoyed the solitude. And, then on the trail ahead, they saw a white thunderbeast called SUV parked just before the Bench of Transmigration.

Gerald spoke up, “Is dat yer ride?”

“No, unrecognizable. Let’s sneak up. I think someone sits on your bench behind it.”