There’s a chipmunk in my shorts
When I was about 8 or 9, during a summer in Elverson, Pennsylvania, my mother and I were living in a three-bedroom house deep in the woods. The curved driveway was shared by two other homes: one small house at one end with stone frog statues that I first assumed were naked ladies and one house in the middle with a fenced in area for their horses.
The second house also housed two white cats and an old golden retriever who dragged his ass every chance he got. The heart of this story started with one of the cats who wondered over to our place from time to time.
One day, playing outside with turquoise shorts on, I noticed that the cat had something in its mouth. Out of of curiosity, I walked closer. Although the cat’s back was to me, I could still see that in its mouth was a chipmunk. My immediate response was ‘Oh that poor chipmunk’, especially when the cat momentarily dropped the chipmunk to the ground.
But! As it turns out, the chipmunk was not dead. In fact, it had enough life in him to run around the cat, towards me, up my left leg, and into the back of my shorts. At the time, the show America’s Funniest Home Videos was very popular. So, having active imagination, I wondered where the camera was—though we didn’t own one.
Yes, I was worried about about the chipmunk biting me, but I was more focused on a course of action to get the small creature out.
Plan #1: Chipmunks love acorns. By shoving acorns in my shorts, the chipmunk would leave to obtain the tasty treat.
FAIL #1: All this did was make the chipmunk move from beneath the fold of my left butt cheek to underneath my crotch.
Plan #2: My mom and one of her friends were hanging out in my mother’s bedroom, which was located on the other side of the house. But, with it being the summer, I knew she would have her windows opened.
FAIL #2: They couldn’t here me.
Plan #3: I needed to somehow make my way to the front of the house and call out to the two women from there.
In a standing-crouching position, I slowing but surely walked to my destination with the chipmunk still hanging out in my shorts. When I reached my mother’s bedroom windows, I said, “Mom, there is a chipmunk in my shorts.”
“You’re pulling my leg,” she said.
“No really, there is a chipmunk in my shorts,” I said, enunciating every word fervently.
The next thing I hear are the quicken heavy footsteps of the two women rushing to and out the front door. Standing by me, the two women were trying to come up with their own plans on how to get the chipmunk out of my pants.
Plan #4: Carefully unbutton and unzip my shorts, so that they could pull down my shorts and get the chipmunk before it bit me.
SUCCESS #1 (although not as they planned): The moment they pulled down my shorts, the chipmunk leaped out the back and under the house.