Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
It was stormy last night, stormy today. Stormy and wet.
I’m at my computer at the window, overlooking the street when I see a young man dressed in sweats running down the street. Running full out, as if he’s chasing something. I stand up and look out the window and watch as he meets up with another young man, also wearing sweats. I wonder if they’re fighting but they seem amicable. I then wonder if they’re playing some form of adult keepaway.
One looks up the street, points a finger, and takes off; the other follows. In front of them is a small brown/gray body running like mad. I think perhaps a cat or a dog had gotten loose and they’re trying to catch it.
The gray body runs under a car and then out, and I realize it’s a squirrel. They’re chasing the squirrel. They’re chasing all the squirrels, all over the neighborhood–into trees, under cars, down the street.
The squirrels are scared to death and the young men are laughing, having a grand old time, faces red with their effort.
I run downstairs and open the door and when they start past, I ask them why they’re chasing the squirrels.
“We’re bored,” one replies. “Nothing else to do”, says the other.
I tell them to knock it off, they’re scaring the squirrels.
“There’s nothing wrong with scaring squirrels”, one says. The other yells out, “They shoot squirrels in this state.”
I said then they should get a gun and shoot the squirrels. The one says, “You think it’s better to shoot the squirrels than chase them?”
I do.
I tell them to stop, now, or I’ll call management. I also tell them to grow up. My roommate says this won’t stop them, but I disagree. They have something else to do now, in their boredom: bitch about the woman who yelled at them to knock it off and grow up.