Squirrelly Gig

Margaret slowly pushed her metal tray around the winding track, smiling nervously at the kitchen staff, as she acquired dish after decadent dish. Her precarious tray was beyond capacity when suddenly the lights in the cafeteria went dark.

Margaret was terrified of the dark, but even more terrified of losing her job. The tray started to wobble as though it could sense her fear. She would need to keep all the plates in place and find her way to the dining room. She inched forward, when suddenly the door flung open.

6 meticulously dressed squirrels were sitting around a mahogany table, each with a tiny brandy snifter in tow, illuminated by a roaring fire. “What took you so long?” The squirrel at the head of the table wanted to know.

Margret wiped the sweat from her brow and tugged on her backpack straps. She found it difficult enough talking to humans, but sophisticated squirrels?! After stalling a bit, she found the words the moment required. "I had to scoop up some cream of corn. What's your excuse?"

The squirrels reluctantly accepted her excuse and demanded to try the cream of corn. “This tastes too much like corn!” Demanded the short chubby one. Her name was Darla and she was famous for sending back dishes at least twice.

“But ma’am, it... is corn,” Margaret explained. The squirrel cabal had heard enough. The elder pointed at the door, and she begrudgingly turned to leave. She’d have to skip town again, onto the next opportunity. Being a chipmunk was hard.