I was sitting in the park feeding pigeons when a squirrel came over to me. It was gray with white tufts under its ears. I tossed some bread crumbs at it but the squirrel just tilted its head and looked at me. I snapped my fingers and it jumped a little, startled by the sudden noise. I kept snapping my fingers at a steady rhythm for no reason at all and noticed the squirrel bobbing its head. Suddenly, it opened its mouth and effortlessly sang Rodolfo’s Che gelida manina. I had never heard a squirrel sing from La bohème quite so well! I brought my significant find to my friend Rick, who knows a thing or two about gifted rodents.
“So what do you think?”
Rick stroked the stubble on his chin.
“He’s good,” Rick said. “But not great. I know a muskrat who can belt out Dexys Midnight Runners entire oeuvre.”
When we left Rick’s, I bought the squirrel a bag of peanuts to make up for my error in judgment. I took him back to the park and watched him scurry up a tree, his mouth full of nuts and disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” I called up to him. “I didn’t mean to get your hopes up. I got greedy. I guess some of us just aren’t meant for showbiz…”
Walking away, I felt a peanut shell bounce off my skull.
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