8thdayfiction

…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.

Squeaky

Once the squirrels around the forest started talking to each other, they realized many of them had two things in common: They had invested acorns (in some cases, large amounts of them) with Squeaky, and they had found it nearly impossible to get a hold of him since doing so.

Their stories were very similar. Squeaky talked a good game and was undeniably charming. He always had a business card or glossy brochure at the ready, and he spoke convincingly about how he could double your acorns for just a modest investment in his high-rise city park tree hollow developments. There was something about him that just seemed legit; he really gave the impression that he knew what he was talking about. And he was certainly living the high life himself, so he must have been doing something right.

As it turned out, he was (allegedly) doing lots of things, none of them right. He was (allegedly) paying old investors with the acorns of new investors, and his lavish lifestyle was (allegedly) being paid for with investors’ acorns, including over-the-top purchases like a gold-plated squirrel-sized treetop Jacuzzi and a chipmunk fur coat for his wife (items which, if nothing else, were tacky).

The last straw was when no less than five different squirrels showed up at the same city park tree on the same day and realized they had all been “sold” the exact same high-rise hollow property. These squirrels, after unsuccessfully trying to reach Squeaky to find out exactly what the heck was going on, contacted the authorities, who in short order obtained a warrant to raid Squeaky’s corporate offices.

Squeaky knew the gig was up the minute they entered. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” said Squeaky.

“A world of trouble”, said the officer leading the raid, who coincidentally had entrusted Squeaky with his life savings and was seeing him for the first time since transferring his acorns to Squeaky those many long months ago. “A WORLD of trouble.”

THE MORAL OF THE STORY? Never trust a squirrel who owns a gold-plated squirrel Jacuzzi. Obviously.

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