Richard Daybell – Novels, stories and short humor
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck would chuck – if the damn woodchuck would chuck wood, we wouldn’t have this problem. But we do. This particular woodchuck not only doesn’t chuck wood, it gorges itself on hollyhocks and coneflowers and zinnias as part of a very strict diet on which he only eats things I plant. If the woodchuck would concentrate on weeds, for instance – God knows we have enough of those for him to sate himself into woodchuck obesity ten times over – he wouldn’t have to die.
I am an animal lover. I like wildlife. I find it cathartic to observe furry little critters cavorting. Nevertheless, the woodchuck must die – although I don’t necessarily want him to suffer. I want hornets and mosquitoes to die too, but in their case, I want suffering. I want mosquitoes to swell up to twice their normal size and itch until they welcome death.
The woodchuck could leave. I wouldn’t chase him down to kill him. In fact I’ve encouraged him to leave. I’ve put up whirlygigs, spread noxious substances around the yard, even peed on his front porch. He doesn’t take the hint. So I’m working on the method of his demise. I don’t want it to hurt too much, but I would like to get a little pleasure out of it.
If only he’d chuck wood.