There’s a white squirrel who lives around my Gpa’s nursing home. My sister who is there everyday hadn’t seen it in a while, and my nephew had determined that it was dead.
However as we left the building, she spotted the white squirrel cavorting in the street. Not a good squirrel plan. I wisely suggested it was a ghost squirrel. It hangs out around really old and ill people. It made sense.
Like weirdos, we immediately speed walked towards it mumbling, “Great white squirrel, great white squirrel.”
It did not want to interact with us, but did show off its skills by sliding head first down several metal railings.
The squirrel had moved on to the lawn of the nursing home, but gave us the cold shoulder even as we winged badly aimed walnuts and almonds at him. We wondered when the staff would appear to ask us to leave and take our squirrel worship elsewhere.
In the end, we left our offerings by a bush that he disappeared into, as my sister urged him to go make white squirrel offspring and other sexy squirrel stuff.
Great white squirrel, we are not worthy.