Mr. Scruff goes outside

Mr. Scruff, the chipmunk, popped out of his hole. He was thirsty and scampered across the sunny field to the shady bush, whose big leaves often held droplets of skunky tasting water. He reached up with his paws and pulled a leaf toward his mouth. The water went up his nose. He sneezed, then licked the water off the ground.

He lay down under the shady bush. His head throbbed, and he felt the first tender vines of shame creep into his chest. It was not a good idea to have eaten the entire rotten grape yesterday, or better put, to have eaten it in public. And to have run around the Picnic Site in his own mad glory, chattering whatever chirps popped into his head. And to have bit Lars Mouse. And to have tried to mount that strange rabbit, Petr's cousin. Edyta was her name. And she only had half a front leg from the Feral Cat attack. Jesus...that was sexy.

And then what? Someone must have dropped him back into his hole before dusk so he wouldn't become an owl's breakfast. Petr most likely.

A leaf caressed his head.

"This would all be terribly funny if it weren't me," he thought.

Up next: Mr. Scruff smells a predator