Bob the Squirrel

File this under: Only in my hometown and freakin’ kinda cool to be Frank.

Pick myself up some Chinese food. In my car, pulling out into the Boulevard. I reach for a piping hot fried wonton. I know they’re not good for me, even if I wasn’t driving…but I’m at a stop light. The wonton are very, VERY fresh… like right out of the fryer fresh. It’s a beautiful day and my driver side car window is down for the first time this year.

Just as I bite down on the wonton, I hear, “Bob the Squirrel?”
I ignore it at first because in addition to being at mid bite, I tend to hear the words “Bob the Squirrel” in my head all the time.

I bite down and immediately a lava hot gob of oil singes every corpuscle on my tongue. Yeah, the wonton are fresh.

“Hey, Bob the Squirrel?” I hear it again. This time I can tell that voice is not in my head… because that voice is usually laughing as well as talking.

I look to my left, boiling hot oil covered wonton smouldering in my mouth, to see a man in a green mini-van. We make eye contact. He smiles because he’s finally got my attention.

“Bob the SQUIRREL?!”

Now, because I have good reason to believe the wonton in my mouth is melting my teeth, I cannot open my mouth to talk. I’m chewing as fast as I can to get the burning out of my mouth and down into my stomach, where, it’ll be easier. All I can do give this wonderful fan a hearty thumbs up. Seriously, a thumbs up.

He acknowledges my friendly acknowledgement and says, across the traffic, “Yeah! I read it!” This phrase is followed by a wonderful laugh.

My mouth is blistered by now, but the wonton is safely down in my stomach. The light changes green and we both are on our way.

So, to the fan who spotted me in my car, across a lane of traffic, while I was nursing a wonton that was seemingly fried on the sun… I thank you for reading my strip.

Today was a good day.