Rupert and his girlfriend, X-92-A, are having a romantic picnic in the valley after an amazing ride through the countryside. With the town far behind them on the horizon, the world may as well be nothing but just the two of them, and the butterflies, and the birds, and, of course, X-92-A’s horse. Is there any better way to spend a warm summer day than pulling away from the hustle and bustle of life to sit on a blanket spread out on the grass, a basket of nuts set out for sharing, to spend time with a loved one? But alas, even a day like this must draw to an end, and even smitten lovebirds must eventually return home to play their parts in this game.

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Up until a week ago, Frank was a perfectly-ordinary squirrel. But either some new toxin got in the water supply, or he was exposed to radiation in his sleep, or some scientist abducted him and tested a slew of chemicals on him, because now, Frank is a gigantic squirrel, and seems to be getting bigger and bigger every day. See these houses? He used to sneak in and out of a hole in the attic of the orange one, and he was so small the owners of the house barely even noticed he was there! He knows he’s too big for this neighborhood now, but this is where he grew up, and where his family lives, so he just keeps coming back, despite the terror he inspires in all his thoroughly-confused loved ones, who just can’t believe that this is the same Frank who used to chatter at them from the treetops.

Detective Jones is the foremost, and only, squirrel detective on the force that polices my back yard. Jones just arrived mere moments ago to investigate this truly horrendous crime, committed during a perfectly ordinary dinner party with such fury and haste that the gruesome murder weapon was left behind by the perpetrator. But perhaps the murderer never actually left, and is standing right here in front of Jones? Is someone else in this ensemble the next to go, and might that next casualty even be Jones himself?

The Marvelous Marvin is a well-known magician around these parts. He’s a little ticked off right now because no one’s supposed to be here before the special stage lights go on, because, as you can see, under the regular house lights, his famous illusion of a bunch of random objects floating mysteriously around the stage is really just a series of strings attached to pulleys controlling the effect. When I came here, I had no idea I’d be ruining his most famous trick, but his ex-girlfriend was working the door and she’s apparently got a vindictive streak.

Monique is a classically-trained dancer who lives in the maple tree in the front yard. While her background is in salsa and the tango—both of which she teaches at the studio down the street—her dream is to find a way to introduce the traditional squirrel dances she grew up learning, such as the Hop, the Scatter, and the Swirly Tail Jump Jump, to the mainstream dance community. She would like to someday be remembered as the first choreographer to elevate these, and other, squirrel dances as the true art forms they are, and hopes to inspire new generations of choreographers, squirrel _and_ human, to use these moves in their future productions.

This is Katia, a factional leader of the International Squirrel Resistance Army, seen here pictured with a nameless co-conspirator. Tonight’s agenda? How to overthrow The Man, as in _all_ The Mans, a species that, for better or worse, I also belong to. I have double-checked all of the windows to make sure no teeny-tiny squirrel hands can pry their way into my house, and put the dog on alert in case they decide to chew their way in through the screens. I advise each of you to do the same.

Paulo is a temperamental squirrel model from across the street. Paulo’s about to get fired from his latest gig performing as the father in a scene featuring him, a baby, and a lovely kitchenette, but since Paulo is terrible at following orders from the set director, he keeps getting in the way of the carefully-set-up scene as well as blocking all shots of his co-model. He’s a good-looking squirrel, with lovely cheekbones and a fantastic tail, so perhaps he can make it as a fashion model somewhere instead. But working with these complicated tableaus is obviously just not his forte.

Angela got the surprise of her life when she came down to my window well today. As the possibly one-millionth squirrel visitor to my ledge, she received not only a variety of useful and satisfying prizes, but a giant novelty check for one million dollars! Angela, that kind of cash will not only make you the envy of all of the other squirrels in the yard--it’ll buy you a whole lot of nuts.

There’s nothing Susie likes doing better after a hard day’s work than have a few friends over, put on a couple of records, and just dance the night away. Ever since high school—which was a long time ago--it’s become a tradition with her besties to get together every Wednesday to hang out until the wee hours of the night, with everyone bringing a new find from the local record store to dance to. It’s just one night where they can all forget about their stupid jobs and their stupid boyfriends and their stupid diets to pretend they’re all just kids again, and while none of them would ever admit it out loud, every single one of them thinks of this as the _best_ night of every week.

Anthony is an avid duck-feeder and nature-watcher. Today, Anthony is visiting his favorite park to feed his favorite family of ducks, on the shore of a deceptively small pond with waters so deep that many years ago, when they decided to dredge the pond in an effort to clean up the park, they found a metal cage full of human bones at the bottom. For a long time, people were convinced that the bones must belong to someone famous, and a lot of intrepid ghost tour companies sprang up to take visitors around the banks of the pond in the hopes of seeing the ghost of the mysterious dead famous person. However, after multiple DNA tests, the skeleton remained completely unidentifiable and not related to any missing famous people after all. It’s a really deep pond, which is perfect for ducks, because snapping turtles prefer to live in shallow water.

Jasper rode his bike all the way from the alley out back to here just to see his girlfriend, Blanche. Blanche is a passionate woman, with a quick, fiery temper, and has chased away many other suitors with her habit of throwing or breaking things when she’s angry, but Jasper’s learned, through careful study and quiet patience, to keep Blanche about as calm as she can be. Because of this, their days together usually consist of Jasper admiring Blanche’s yard, or any new knickknacks he sees around her house, and never include anything as problematic as board games or serious conversation.

For the past couple of weeks, Joan’s been receiving orders from her television set. They’re nothing particularly strange or harmful, and they really feel more like suggestions than orders, so far—they’re just silly things, like, “Pour a glass of water on your head,” or, “Pour a glass of water over your neighbor’s head,” or “Maybe just drink that glass of water this time.” And while her neighbor didn’t appreciate the mid-conversation surprise dousing, Joan’s always been a little odd, so he just took it in stride. Sometimes Joan doesn’t even know she’s following the orders from the television set, like when she just sort of found herself halfway home from the grocery store, the back of her car filled with jugs of bottled water and a plastic gallon on the seat beside her, opened and half-empty. At night, all of her dreams are filled with the sound of whispering static, like she’s left the TV on in the other room past the last sign-off of the night, but when she gets up to check, the TV’s always off, while the whispering is still there, an undercurrent to everything.

Beefsteak is a professional tail model that has lived in the birch tree in my back yard his whole life. Beefsteak is best known in the squirrel modeling world for his ability to twirl his tail on cue and for just looking adorable no matter who’s behind the camera. Because his tail is his moneymaker, he’s especially cautious about getting dried leaves and sticks caught up in his fur, and has developed a useful fighting stance when confronting other male squirrels of keeping his tail elevated and out of the way of grasping claws and teeth.

You may not think you’ve heard anything by avant-garde composer Bwaak before, but if you’ve sat through any number of commercials or sci-fi films, you’ve definitely heard at least one of her dark, moody compositions. When she’s not trying to work out the best way to create an ambient space to wrap around a scene in a car commercial or the best way to impress upon an audience the seriousness of a space-funeral, Bwaak is usually busy writing her own compositions, which tend to be surprisingly upbeat and poppy, with clever lyrics and a danceable beat. Someday, she plans to release a record of these original compositions, but most likely under a different name so as to not confuse her clients in the industry. 

All night long, Lucy's kids have been screaming about monsters being in their room, and all night long, Lucy’s been coming back to their room, opening their closet door and saying, “See? There’s nothing in the closet! Now go back to bed!” only to have them start screaming about monsters and things grabbing them all over again. That’s the problem with having three little ones at the same time—one of them starts up with an idea, then the other two run with it, and before you know it, the sun’s coming up and you’ve got to face another day on no sleep. Poor Lucy.

Jacks is on the run from the Law. It seems like just yesterday that he was just an ordinary squirrel doing ordinary squirrel things like courting ladies and going to church and helping his widowed mother out on the farm, but everything changed when those men from the bank showed up, said Jacks’ mother hadn’t been paying her bills and that the farm and their house and their whole world now belonged to the bank. What was Jacks supposed to do? They didn’t give him much choice. And now he’s on the run, across the desert with a new name and a made-up past, starting his life all over again, the Law always just one step behind him.

This squirrel appears to be a Peeping Tom, and while his name is probably not Tom, it would be a delightful coincidence if it were. This Peeping Tom in particular has a really hard time dealing with coming to a certain someone’s window well and not finding the usual offering of nuts and raisins waiting for him, and has decided that the only way to get said offering is to take matters into his own hands and _demand_ his tribute. Needless to say, it totally worked.

Basil's a tough guy well-known on the squirrel-boxing circuit. Despite the warnings from his doctor and the tender pleas of his wife and children, Basil is stepping into the ring yet again, right in the face of the knowledge that one more TKO could take him out of the game—for good. But his daughter just got accepted into a prestigious art school—an opportunity that he could only dream about when he was her age—and her partial scholarship isn’t going to cover the high cost of a good education these days. He just has to win this one last fight and all his problems will be solved.

This is Bob, and Bob don’t take kindly to strangers in his neck of the woods. In fact, Bob lives out in the middle of nowhere specifically because he doesn’t like anyone—he doesn’t like traveling salespeople, he doesn’t like Avon ladies, he doesn’t like people dropping unexpected packages or court summons at his house, and he doesn’t like tourists or hikers or campers or troops of any sort. Bob has built his entire life around being alone—except for the company of his dog Rufus, of course, who is just the best dog ever. While some people might say Bob takes his antisocial behavior a little too far, in his defense, he does spend almost all day going around nailing up “No Trespassing! I Hate You! Go Away!” signs all over his woods, so if people don’t take him seriously and think he just needs a cuddle to cheer him up and that he's not actually a dangerous psychopath, well, that’s not his problem at all. You don’t put up a sign like that if you don’t mean it.

The Apple Tree Monster is an ancient creature that’s part legend, part reality, but is _all_ super terrifying The Monster gets its deceptively charming name from the way it patiently hides at the tops of apple trees, deep in the forest, watching its prey for hours--days, even—before striking, attacking large animals and especially humans where they sleep before dragging them off to its den to consume at its leisure. However, since this particular forest is also the only tourist attraction in the area and a significant source of revenue for the nearby camping supply and convenience stores, there hasn’t been a lot of effort made to discourage people from trekking into the woods for a hike or to camp overnight. Occasionally, some local tries to warn out-of-towners about the Apple Tree Monster—usually someone with a terrible accent who shouts his warnings from the porch of a gas station—but those people tend to have poor communication skills overall and just seem crazy.