This morning I got to work and everything was as usual. I left my cooler bag in the jeep with my lunch and drinks in it, intending to come out and get them when I left the office to deliver my route. I locked the doors, but left the windows open about 2 inches all the way 'round, to vent the jeep and help the cooler bag keep my drinks cold. It's not a hard cooler or anything, just one of those soft cooler bags that zips shut. There's a separate compartment in the top to keep the sandwiches in, and it does a pretty good job. I'm happy with it so far.
I went in the building and set up my route, pulled it all down and loaded it in the mail truck. I drove the mail truck over to my jeep to get my lunch (as well as this computer right here) out of the jeep so I could take my route to the street. I opened the rear door and looked in at the back seat of the jeep. The sun was quite bright this morning, and the interior of the jeep was dim (I have tinted rear windows), and for a few seconds it was hard to see anything in there. I saw my cooler bag lying on its back, and there was something white on the seat above it. I squinted.
Oops, I thought, looks like I didn't so such a good job zipping that baby closed. Looks like my sandwich fell out, good thing I noticed before I left!
As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I saw that there was peanut butter visible in a rough circle around the middle of the sandwich.
Aw crap! Looks like something smushed it! I hope the bag didn't pop open, it'll be all stale!
I leaned in and grabbed the cooler bag by the handle, scooping up the mashed sandwich with the other hand. As I straightened up and brought the sandwich out into the light, I got a good look at it for the first time.
"Son of a bitch!"
I leaned back into the jeep and threw a quick look around, on the alert for movement, but saw nothing. I stood up and looked at the sandwich again. The bag was not popped open, nor was the sandwich actually smushed. The side of the sandwich bag was torn open, and had been spread wide. The middle of the sandwich was not smushed, it was missing! I looked at just how much the jeep windows were open, then glared out at the woods on the other side of the fence.
"Damn you, squirrel!"
No response. I couldn't help picturing something along the lines of the gopher in "Caddyshack", but there was still no response.
I whipped out my phone and took a quick picture of the slain sandwich. The heart was gone; the terrible tree-rat had the audacity to leave me the crusts! I tore the remains out of the bag and flung them over the fence into the woods.
"Here," I shouted, "you may as well finish the damn thing!"
I started to turn away, but spun back toward the trees as a fresh thought struck me.
"And if I find any squirrel crap in my jeep, I'm getting a BB gun and coming back here to go Postal on your fuzzy little ass!"
I can't believe I was pirated by a squirrel!
I have to go get some pizza or something.
Talk to you later!