The Squirrel's Curse

This entry was written by Beaker

   “Mommy, come and see what’s on the porch!” called Barney.

   “Oh, not again,” sighed Mona. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of the shriveled-up squirrel corpse that Rex, their rat terrier, had dropped on the doormat. “I’ve buried that thing over and over. Bad dog, Rex.”

   Rex hid his face under his muddy paws.

   “Well, I’m done with that dried-up jerky squirrel. This time it’s not coming back.” Mona scooped up the filthy thing in the battered snow shovel that usually held the garden gate shut. She carried it out into the yard and tossed it on to the leaf pile.

   “What are you doing, Mommy?” Barney asked.

   “I’m sending the squirrel up to heaven,” Mona said, and she struck a match and dropped it onto the pile. The smoke curled up into the sky and casrrying away thesweet smell of the leaves along with the rank smell of burning hair.

   Barney sat in the kitchen, coloring a cheerful picture of Spongebob and Patrick. “What’s for dinner, Mommy?” he asked.

   “Chicken stew.”

   “What’s hicken stew?”

   “I said chicken, honey,” she said, trying not to laugh.

   Barney set the table for the two of them, and Mona ladled the stew into their bowls.

   “Ewww!” Barney wrinkled his nose. “It doesn’t smell very good.”

   “It’s good for you,” Mona said, but she thought there was something odd about the smell, too. She sniffed, trying to remember if anything had smelled funny while she’d been preparing it. The odor was familiar, yet she couldn’t quite place it.

   “Mommy!” Barney pushed his bowl away. “I’m not eating this soup.”

   “Why not?”

   “Because.” He slid from his chair, and Mona saw that he was shaking. “I don’t like hicken soup.”

   “Honey, I told you, it’s chicken stew.“

   “I know what you said, Mommy. But that’s not chicken!”

   Mona leaned across the table for his bowl, stirring the stew. Chunks of potato and celery bobbed up in the thick yellowy base.

   “There’s nothing wrong with this, Barney. C’mon and eat it.”

    She held up a spoonful.

   “But Mommy!” he wailed, pointing.
 
  A small grey paw clung to the tip of the spoon.