Squirrel Patrol: Thousand-Yard Stare

All Revved Up with No Place to Go

  Nuts slept reasonably well through the night, only interrupted by the stumbling noises of his troops. He purposely didn't get up as they made their way to their tents. At one point, he thought he heard one of them get sick. He felt certain that if one of them lost kibble on the walkway, they would clean it up before Nuts stepped in it. If they didn't, somebody would be eating a special breakfast.

  The sergeant woke a short time before reveille, getting his own gear assembled before waking the patrol. The equipment itself was nothing more than his pebbler, holster, and helmet. But, triple checking his fur and claws for dirt, dust, or scuffs was mandatory. Inspections were a necessary evil that came with the job. Woe to the soldier who didn't take pride in their appearance; sloppiness always got the crap details. Nuts would rather eat bird turds than to get called out on inspection.

  He stepped out of his tent into the pre-dawn light. The ground was cold beneath his feet, the air only a little less so. Down the row of tents he saw Nibble squatting in front of his, nursing a cup of java. Or rather, dried chicory, since nobody had come across coffee from the places of the giant ones for some time. Jazz, or at least what looked like Jazz's rear end was sticking out of the flap of the next tent. Down on all fours, Nuts wasn't sure if he was getting sick, or praying not to be sick. He fully withdrew from the tent, dragging his gear on the ground. Groaning and not completely awake, he looked towards Nuts. On spotting the sergeant, he tried to stand up, but instead, fell over into the side of Roadkill's tent. Squeals of pain and surprise came from inside. More than one voice. A new voice that was much higher pitched than one of Nuts' squireels. Jazz scrambled away from the tent, surprised at the female voice. He squatted down next to Nibble and shared a disbelieving look.

"Jazz!?", came Road's voice. "You motherless, turd-eating, bird-humping excuse for an officer! I'm gonna..." He got interrupted by a shout from Nuts.

"Road? Come on out here and give your buddy a hand!", Nuts said. He was going to enjoy this. It wasn't unusual for  a soldier to sneak someone into camp. Even though it was strictly against the rules. The penalties varied, with the NCO in charge meting out the law. Nuts just gave them some extra details to perform. But it was Nuts' prerogative to make them squirm for a bit. Why else become an NCO?, he thought.

  Roadkill's stood up inside the partially collapsed tent, his head making a round bulge shooting straight up like another part of his anatomy. Another bulge stuck out from that height of the tent, accompanied by a high pitched giggle.

"Sarge?", came Road's plaintive reply. "Is it time to get up already?"

  The female voice in the tent, muffled but understandable, said, "Well, if you're any indication, I guess it is." She put in another giggle for effect.

  Scratcher and Nibbles were bent over trying to keep from laughing out loud. Jazz kept quiet, but cautiously moved away from the collapsing tent. Nuts stood patiently at the top of the tent row. 

"You bet, Road!", he shouted cheerfully. "We're all set to head over to the mess hall. You want the rest of the team to help you with your tent? Then we can all get breakfast together." Nuts motioned to the team to move away from the tents, down the far end of the row, as if they were leaving. 

  Road replied, "Uh, n-no." The shapes in the tent shifted a bit more. "N-no! Ah, I mean, you guys go on and get some grub. Won't take me long to clear this up!" He started making noises and motions as if to fix his tent.

  Nuts moved around to join the rest of the squirrels, motioning them to make noises like they were walking off. The team did their part, saying 'see you later' and 'save you some grub', as they made scuffling sounds away from the tents. Silently, the gang made their way along the edge of the encampment to take up hidden viewing positions of Road's tent.