One fateful night a young man named Thomas befriends a magical creature at a bar in Downtown Los Angeles: a silver statue of a squirrel. The statue gains life when surrounded by weed smoke. While the statue cannot speak, Thomas can hear the thoughts of the Silver Squirrel. These are the stories of their adventures…
Silver Squirrel: Quarantine
Squirrel could smell it — the scent of heaven. Squirrel always thought that heaven would smell like XJ-13. It was his favorite Sativa and for a moment he thought he had died and gone to heaven. If there was a heaven it wouldn’t be a city in the clouds, but a city filled with clouds. Big churning clouds of XJ-13. Squirrel smiled at the thought.
Then he heard Thomas’s voice: “Oh, thank god!”
Squirrel felt Thomas’s warm hand against his cold silver cheek. He felt safe again. Squirrel cracked his tiny metal eyes open and saw Thomas looking down on him. There were tears in Thomas’s brown eyes.
“Hey, buddy. I thought I had lost you.” Thomas wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. Squirrel got to all four paws and stumbled when he tried to walk.
“Hold on, take it easy,” said Thomas. “Here.” Thomas placed a lit joint of XJ-13 in Squirrel’s mouth. Squirrel inhaled deeply and immediately felt the life force of the smoke. It was electricity in his body. Warmth all over, like a hot bath. It was life returning to him.
This wasn’t the first time Squirrel had “died”. Thomas nearly had a heart attack the first time it had happened. Squirrel only knew that without smoke he would simply be a statue. Unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to feel. Squirrel called it the darkness and he tried not to think about it too often.
Squirrel couldn’t remember anything before that fateful night that he and Thomas first met at the bar. For all Squirrel knew, that night was his one and only “birth”. Before that perhaps he was just a statue.
Squirrel stretched and rolled around on the ground. He swished his tail and then hugged it. It felt good to be alive.
Whew! said Squirrel. That was a close call!
“No shit,” said Thomas. “You’re lucky I happened to come out for a cigarette.” Thomas had been trying to kick the habit for some time and hadn’t had a cigarette in a long time.
“What the hell happened anyway?” said Thomas.
Rats! said Squirrel. They stole my gummies. I fucking hate rats!
“HEY!” shouted Thomas. “What did I tell you about cussing?!”
Squirrel cowered. Thomas never yelled at him.
“I’m sorry,” said Thomas and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said again and went to the couch.
Something was wrong. Squirrel knew it. Something was very wrong. He cautiously approached the couch and sat on Thomas’s lap. He raised himself on his hind legs and offered the joint to Thomas with both forepaws. Thomas cracked a grin and took the joint with his lips.
“Thanks, buddy,” said Thomas. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
I know, said Squirrel. What’s wrong? You know you can tell me.
“I know,” said Thomas. “I just don’t want you to worry as well.”
It’s okay. Is it the virus? Are you worried about the virus?
“Not exactly, but kinda…,” said Thomas and let out a sigh. “I don’t got a job anymore. There it is. Well, they call it a furlough. But they told me to not put off looking for other work.”
It’s okay, said Squirrel. You’ll find another job.
“There are 30 million people unemployed right now,” said Thomas. “It’s just a fact. I’m just another guy with a four-year degree.”
It’s okay, said Squirrel. We’ll be okay. Squirrel jumped from Thomas’s lap and went to their weed box where they kept all their stuff for smoking. Bud, papers, pipes, filters, even two grinders. We’ve just got to stay positive. Isn’t that right? Optimism over pessimism. Isn’t that what you always say?
“Yeah, but I don’t have enough saved to last even a month…” Thomas massaged his temples. “You packing a bowl?”
Squirrel nodded. Yes, we need a good Indica to put us at ease. Squirrel packed the bowl and lit it up in record time. He let out the smoke slowly through his nostrils. Mmm, that feels good, said Squirrel. Okay, so you said we have a month?
“If we’re lucky…I barely have four hundred bucks saved…” Thomas sat up straight. “But you’re right though. Positive thinking is key. Got to keep our heads held high. Of course, we’ll have to ration our weed.”
Say what now? Squirrel perked up and scratched at his ears.
“Yeah, we’ll have to watch how much we smoke. It will be easy to just smoke all day with nothing else to do. I’d say one bud per day will make it last.”
One bud! Oh, hell no! Squirrel sat on his hind paws and sucked on the glass pipe lit with some Indica. I’ll get a job…
“No one’s gonna hire a magical squirrel,” said Thomas.
“How? You gonna rob a bank?”
Thomas laughed. “What? You gonna rob a dispensary?”
Squirrel was quiet. He was plotting. He continued sucking on the bowl of Indica. Thomas finished the XJ-13 and tossed the roach out the window. He looked back at Squirrel. A smile was now spread across his pointed silver face.
“Oh, hell no,” said Thomas. “Don’t even think about it!”