Martha stood at the brick pathway leading to the back of her property; she was looking for her husband. He wasn’t lost she just couldn’t find him. “How far could he get in five minutes,” she mused. “He never stays put.” She yelled across the yard, “Bill, where are you?”
“By the grapes,” Bill answered. Martha walked slowly down the path tossing bread crumbs along the way.
“I’m not happy about this,” he growled.
“Hmm, I wonder what’s eating our grapes,” she whispered.
“You know perfectly well what’s eating our grapes. Your squirrels, and if we don’t do something soon they’ll get every single one. Again.” Martha knew what was coming, but played dumb.
“Well, what can we do?”
“We haven’t had a grape in three years.” Bill answered.
“We’ll pick them earlier this time.”
“We’ve tried that, they’re sour.”
“So, what you’re saying is we’re full of sour grapes?” Martha joked.
“Very funny. What I’m saying is, I would like to have some of the fruits of all our labors.”
“I don’t want to kill them,” she moaned.
“So, all our efforts, the watering, the pruning, the digging, are all so the squirrels can eat the grapes?”
“We can buy grapes from the store.”
“I want our grapes, fresh from the vine.”
“I guess we’ll have to kill the opossum, too.”
“I guess we will.”
“And what about the birds? They like grapes too.”
“We can net the grapes to keep the birds away, just like we did with the peach trees.” Bill was starting to get hopeful for the first time.
“And the bunnies? What about the bunnies?”
“Bunnies don’t climb.”
“Good. I’d hate to kill the bunnies, I like watching their little white polka dot tails hop across the lawn.”
“So, we’ll keep the bunnies and the birds, but the squirrels and opossum have to go,” Bill confirmed.
“I don’t want to kill the squirrels. I love listening to their chatter.”
“They’re calling all the other squirrels to dinner! In our vines!”
“I wonder… if we feed them other food---”
“That’s what got us into this mess in the first place! You feeding the squirrels!”
“But the fires. I had to. What were they going to eat?”
“Each other for all I care.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Not as disgusting as losing all our grapes.”
“Don’t be such a meany.” Martha took a another handful of bread crumbs from her apron pocket tossing them on the lawn as she made her way back to the house.
“Where are you going?” Bill called out.
“To the store,” Martha replied.
“What for?”
“We need grapes.”
“I give up.”
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