Hurt Squirrels
Don't Hurt The Squirrel
8/25/2003 10:20 AM
Ah, Mondays!

I entered the control room at the television station where I work to find tapes and papers all over the floor. "--The hell...?" I thought. I picked up the atomic clock off the floor and made sure it still worked, then set about switching tapes in the deck. That was done in about five minutes and I went on to clean up the mess.

As I bent over to pick up a couple of tapes next to the rack that holds the control and switching equipment, I heard some scrabbling inside. I slowly stood up and peeked into the side of the rack, where I saw, perched on the nest of cables, a squirrel staring back at me.

Calmly, I said, "GAH!"

I then left the control room, walked down the hall and found a couple co-workers. "Say, fellows," I interjected. "Anyone interested in helping get a squirrel out of the control room?"

One of them jumped up and said "Sure!" as if I had asked for some help finding paper clips. He grabbed an empty box from a closet and the three of us headed back to the control room.

Once inside, we chased the poor little guy around the room for about ten minutes, trying to get him the box. That, of course, wasn't working, so one of us went and got a towel to throw over him. That was a better tactic, since almost immediately we had him cornered behind a computer. One co-worker grabbed him by the tail, while the other wrapped to towel around him and plopped him in the box I was holding.

Finally, we took him to the wooded area next to the parking lot and sang "Born Free" as he ran off.

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