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Since the days of my youth I clung to that elusive dream.
It was, after all, the dream held by so many children of my generation. Most grew up and entered into the mundane
existence we call adulthood, losing sight of the prize, but not me. To me it was the hope that my life had a purpose.
That I was put here for a reason. That I could truly make a difference. To break the surly bonds of Earth so to
speak. To go where no man has ever gone before. The center of a Tootsie Roll Pop, the final frontier. To determine
just how many licks it takes. My God man, can you imagine it? To unravel the secrets of the hard candy shell and
find salvation.
Prior to going undercover, I had reached an unprecedented 2,632 licks before succumbing to the overwhelming urge
to bite. The old record was 2,130 set by a fella in 1939. They called him the Iron Horse and said his record could
never be broken. It was a major accomplishment for me, but being the record holder was not enough.
My goal was always to reach the center. Not out of a yearning for tootsie roll mind you. Hell, I don't even like
tootsie rolls. I much prefer the Blow Pop. After all, bubble gum is far tastier than that pseudo chocolate crap,
but countless people have licked their way to the center of a Blow Pop. Where's the challenge in that I ask you?
On the other hand, the Tootsie Roll Pop has always been the Holy Grail, the Mount Everest of the lollipop world
if you will. My friends, it's all about the quest to reach the summit. If I ever get there I'll probably throw
the damn tootsie roll part away, but by God, nobody will ever again have to ask how many licks it takes. And in
the end, that's what it's all about.
So there in lied my dilemma. A man chasing his lollipop dream in a squirrel society where, in case you didn't know,
lollipops are not socially acceptable. Why you ask? Well for one, squirrels are real sticklers about dental hygiene
and there's no denying the link between lollipops and tooth decay. Secondly, you have the whole fur factor. Sticky
lollipops and fur just don't mix. It seemed I couldn't go anywhere without being reminded of the infamous lollipop
fiasco of '79. Apparently a bag of lollipops got handed out and some squirrels wound up stuck together. They were
just a bunch a dumb kids out to have a good time, but I guess things got out of hand. A damn shame it was. After
that, the sale of lollipops was banned. You could still get them if you knew the right squirrel but they were going
for 90 to a 100 acorns a pop.
It had gotten to the point where I was lucky to get my paws on one or two a week and that wasn't cutting it. If
I was ever going to reach my goal I would need to train and that meant lollipops morning, noon and night. In the
end I was left with no choice but to return to my meager human existence where at least lollipops were readily
available. I just couldn't let go of the dream. So one day I reluctantly removed the squirrel mask and simply walked
away. I was Squirrel Man no more. Back to being the poor human wretch known to the locals only as "Lollipop
Boy".
Do I miss it? Let me tell you something Buster, not a day goes by when I don't yearn to be a squirrel again. To
once again dawn the furry suit and take to the trees. It's like they always say, "You can take the man out
of the squirrel suit, but you can't take the squirrel out of the man." To this very day, I often get chased
from my neighbor's yard. Apparently eating the sunflower seeds out of his bird feeder is so terribly wrong. Well
if that's wrong, then Mister, I don't want to be right.
I won't suppress my true feelings any more. To be honest with you, I feel like a squirrel trapped in a man's body.
There, I've said it. It took a lot to admit that, but in many ways I've never felt more free. No longer will I
have to claim to be chewing tobacco to hide the fact that I "squirrel" acorns away in my cheeks. No more
secret scurrying. Now, when I scurry, it will be for all the world to see. Look at me world, as I scurry and hide
nuts and dart in front of oncoming cars. That's who I am and I'm damn proud of it.
So that's my story. I guess now when you hear me speak of squirrels, you'll take me a little more seriously. Maybe
I'm not just some crazy fool after all?
For more, visit the Author's Web Site at: ThePeppercornKid.com
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