The sheriff pulled up to the cabin the next morning, since a car alarm that sounded like it was coming from around here, had kept up residents in Watchalahoohooville half the night. Slammed into a tree, smashed down to half its normal size by a gigantic branch, was the source of the problem: A fully-loaded Explorer.
  “Have to find the guy who owns this thing, so he can turn that dang thing off,” he said as he took a large bite out of a diner-fresh donut.
  Bang!
  “Deputy Morris must be here.”
  Sure enough, there was Deputy Morris, looking at the .357 lying on the ground, smoke coming out of the barrel.
  “Morris,” said the sheriff, “How many times do I have to tell you NOT TO DROP YOUR GUN?”
  “I’m sorry, Sheriff. I don’t mean too!”
  SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!
  “Deputy Douglas must be here.”
  Sure enough, out of the third patrol car stepped Deputy Douglas.
  “Son, when are you going to take some driving lessons?”
  “But I’m getting’ better, Sheriff. Yesterday I was playing that Pole Position machine at Pop’s Ice Cream Shoppe and only went off the track twice!”
  “Geez, you stink, don’t you, Douglas?” Morris sneered.
  “Oh, just because you have the top score!”
  “Hey, will you two knock it off? That car alarm is making more than enough noise without y’all adding to it!”
  “Sorry, Sheriff.”
  “Me too, Sheriff.”
  As the sheriff continued looking at the cabin, he heard Douglas mumble behind him, “Trigger-happy knucklehead.”
  Morris retorted, mumbling, “Clutch-burning nincompoop.”
  “Klutz!”
  “Leadfoot!”
  “Butterfingers!”
  “Sunday Driver!”
  “WILL YOU TWO STOP FIGHTING AND LOOK AT THAT CABIN?”
  Quickly Douglas got in a karate stance, while Morris drew his pistol.
  “Look at the front window. See how it has just that one small hole in it? I wonder what happ…Bang!”
  The sheriff turned. “Morris, do you have any more bullets left in that firearm?”
  “Uh…no, Sheriff, magazine’s empty.”
  “Okay, let’s go check out the inside of the cabin.”
  As they roamed around the bottom floor of the cabin, they noticed some very unusual things. That hole in the window. A single acorn on the floor, but no other dirt, sticks, or leaves anywhere. The place was neat and tidy, except for a pair of pants lying on the floor, and a Homelite chainsaw, dripping oil on the floor, by the door to the master bedroom. The door had a small bite in it, through which the sheriff and two deputies could see a window in the bedroom was broken, and there was some sort of liquid that had been spilled and soaked into the carpet.
  Looking in the hallway, they saw that a door was open. Besides some scratches on the outside of the door and the droppings of some sort of woodland creature on the top shelf of the walk-in closet, nothing seemed wrong.
  Another door that was open was the back door. Nothing was especially wrong, except there were three small dents near the bottom of the outside.
  Then, the officers decided to go upstairs. Opening a door to a small bedroom, they discovered a horrific sight: a middle-aged man sitting in a corner. He had no pants on, no shoes on, and appeared to be covered with small bite marks. He was holding his knees, rocking back and forth on his hindquarters, babbling incoherently.
  The sheriff, followed by Morris and Douglas, entered the room. “Wow,” said Douglas, “this is a little bit nuts.”
  “AUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHH!!!!!” The man screamed for a few moments, then began babbling again.
  “Huh. Wonder what that was all about?” said the sheriff. Cautiously, he walked over to the man.     “Hey, pal, do you know anything about that stuff downstairs? The pants? The chainsaw? How about that acorn…”
  “AUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHH!!!!!”
  The sheriff paused for a second. Then he said, “Clock.” No response from the man.
  “Chicken.” No response.
  “Almond.” The man screamed.
  “Pizza.” No response.
  “Regis Philbin.” Shockingly, no response.
  “Peanut.” The man screamed.
  The sheriff straightened up and left the room. The deputies followed him out. Once they were outside the room, the sheriff spoke. “Okay, here’s the problem. It appears that this guy screams every time he hears the word “nut” or hears the name of a variety of nut. So, no saying anything like that. Also, it’s obvious that this guy’s missin’ something upstairs. Better call Deputy Cash, he’s an expert on this sort of thing.”
  A short time later, Deputy Cash was at the scene. Morris led up the stairs and into the room.
  Upon seeing his arrival, the sheriff greeted Cash. “How you doin’? Okay, Cash, you go and get…”
  “AUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHH!!!!”
  “I said, ‘Cash, you.’ Two separate words. I didn’t say ‘cashew’…”
  “AUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!”
  “You know what?” said Cash, “Let me talk to this guy alone.”
  While Cash talked with the man, Morris stood at the top of the stairs, polishing his pistol. Douglas was right at the doorway, staring out the sunroof. The sheriff was in the living room, sitting on the couch. That’s when the sheriff spotted a pink, rabbit-shaped notebook sitting on the coffee table. He opened to the first page:
  Friday: I love Lake Watchalahoohoo. The clean air and blue sky. The calmness. The peacefulness. But especially the local wildlife. And I don’t mean that crazy local cop at the ice cream parlor that hogs the “Pole Position” machine. I mean, all the little furry forest creatures. Except for one, though. I despise chip…
  “No! Let me go! The chipmunks! You gotta find the chipmunks! They’re going to kill everybody! I was just the first! Please, you got to do something!”
  Dropping the notebook, the sheriff saw the deputies dragging the man to one of the patrol cars.
  “This man is nu…er, insane. I’m recommending the asylum. All he talks about are three chipmunks or something!” Cash yelled. The deputies threw the man into the back seat. Cash stepped into the driver’s seat and drove off.
  The other two deputies looked at the sheriff. “Sheriff, we’re going to head back to the station and start on the paperwork.” Morris said.
  “Alright, go on ahead. I’m going to clean up around here.”
  As Douglas screeched off, the sheriff reentered the cabin. A gunshot went off outside.
  “Morris, I thought you said the magazine was empty in that gun!”
  “I forgot it loads one in the chamber, Sheriff. I’m sorry.”
  As Morris sped off in his patrol car, the sheriff picked up the notebook from where he had dropped it. As he did, he noticed there was some scribbling on the open pages. When he really looked hard at it, it almost seemed to be words. One page appeared to say DON’T MESS WITH US. On the other page, THE CHIPMUNKS. The sheriff began to think. Was the crazy man actually making sense? Could there actually be chipmunks…
  “Nah. Couldn’t be true,” said the sheriff. He closed the notebook and returned it to the coffee table where he found it. He then exited the cabin and headed to his patrol car.
  As he started to step into the driver’s seat, the sheriff heard a strange noise. Something like chit chit chit. It sounded happy and content. It almost sounded like a squirrel.
  Or, maybe, a chipmunk.

---Robert LaHue
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E-mail Robert--lazar_wolf_2001@yahoo.com