Squirrel Power

a segment

Secret Squirrel says: How do I turn this stuff on? Testing, testing, testing, testing, testing, testing. Oh, it is working. Ahem. [cough]

Hello, world! This is Secret Squirrel coming to you once again with some new squirrely secrets and investigative intrigue. I've been away due to circumstances beyond my control, but I'm back! Cracker Jack back flappin' pancake crackin' super slappin' Seeeeeecret Squirrel!

First order of business today is some inside scoop on Madame Python and Miss Cricket. Madame Python is hottttttttttt! Miss Cricket is nottttttttt!

Miss Cricket: Where is Alice? And why is the studio door ajar, Py? I know we locked it.

Secret Squirrel: [whispering] The chunky beast herself. Thirty minutes early. Figures.

Miss Cricket: Someone's been in here. My tea cup has been moved. My stapler has been moved.

Secret Squirrel: Surprise!

Miss Cricket: Aaaaargh!!

Secret Squirrel: Aaaaaaaaaahh!!

Madame Python: Aaaaaaaahh!!


Miss Cricket: What are you doing in here, Squirrel? And how did you get in here? You were asked to turn in your key.

Secret Squirrel: I turned in my key. Just because I turned in one key doesn't mean I didn't keep a copy, you stupid witch.

Miss Cricket: Get out. And don't touch anything.

Secret Squirrel: Ooooh, Miss Cripple doesn't want the little squirrel touching anything, huh? Touch. Touch. Touch. Touch. Touch. You big wind bag. Touch. Touch. Let me tell you something. You don't know anything. You got rid of the one person around here who actually had a faithful audience. You know why? Because I know things. Yeah, I know about Chavez and his "pretend" illness. And I know about Mauritania. I could tell you about missions I went on, but I can't. But I can tell you I was sent to three months of jungle training if that tells you anything. Me, a squirrel, was still required to spend three months in a skanky jungle like I needed to learn how to climb trees. But they saw. They saw later what I could do. Once I got into an F15, people sat up and took notice of the squirrel. Touching, touching, touching. You have no idea what I can do.

Miss Cricket: You have no idea what personal space is. And you are permanently afflicted with verbal diarrhea. You're not allowed in the building. Get out.

Secret Squirrel: You pampas pearl-wearing throw back wind bag! You know what the legal department calls you? "Wide load." They take turns pushing the file cart around the cubicles going "bleep bleep" pretending to be the lead vehicle in your caravan.

And the maintenance department calls you "Crickwitch," as in, "What picky thing does Crickwitch want now?"

You're gonna step toward me? Come on. Come on. I can hop around faster than Muhammad Ali. I should slap your face. What are you gonna do? Fire me? I'll slap your face. I will slap your face with my tail. See it. See it.

Miss Cricket: You little bucktoothed rodent. How dare you threaten people? You ought to be arrested.

Secret Squirrel: You ought to be halved.

Miss Cricket: You ought to be stewed.

Secret Squirrel: You ought to BE a luau.

Miss Cricket: Close the door, Py, and hand me that fire extinguisher. This ends now.

Secret Squirrel: Luau. Luau. Touching, touching. I'll be back. [scramble] And I peed in your tea cup yesterday.

Madame Python: He got out, Wicky.

Miss Cricket: I swear if he ever comes back in here I will have his tail as a souvenir on my desk. Little worm-ridden loose-lipped shriveled-up has-been. I'll kill him. And he was on secret ops and psyops and has a lot of knowledge about Croatia, the Medellín cartel, connections between Pyongyang and Prague. If any of this stuff ever got out.

Madame Python: Wicky, we're live.

Miss Cricket:

Madame Python: Did he really fly F15's?

Miss Cricket: Booster seat.



Copyright 2013, Elizabeth Cricken, All Rights Reserved

image credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sdasmarchives/4565000130/in/photostream