SQUIRREL.
SQUIRREL. I had a case in Missouri, and I was invited to a local lawyer’s house for “pot luck.” It was more than pot luck because it was a very special meal. One of the courses was squirrel, which my host had shot himself. It was very good if you like dark meat, as I do. Later I told my mother about how I had eaten squirrel, and that it was very good. My mother seemed troubled by this, but didn’t say anything, so I added the fabrication that the squirrel was served with the bushy tale alongside. “Oh, no.” said my mother.
I heard her voice as she said it. A deep voice, anguished, revolted, “Oh, no, Philip.”
A real triumph for her son.