Herman is nuts, and other CT updates

Herman is nuts!
Another CT Update brought to you by the staff of highly intelligent squirrels who work at CT headquarters.

Kenneth the I.T. guy comes into my office, his little squirrel paws flailing above his head, screaming something about how he didn’t mean to do it, that it was a mistake, please don’t fire him, two hundred and fifty kids at home, six wives, the tree mortgage, blah blah blah. So me, being head squirrel here at CT Headquarters, says, “Didn’t mean to do what?” And that’s when he takes me up to the seventieth floor and shows me the cables connecting the servers to the outside world. They’re all chewed through and I can see the unmistakable marks left by Kenneth’s squirrel teeth. “Did we forget to bring our lunch again today?” I say, and Kenneth just stares at me with this sheepish look on his face, his little squirrel whiskers all folded under his chin. “Chris isn’t going to be happy about this,” I say, and man, am I right.

A few hours later Chris is on his back under the hulking mass of computer servers trying to plug stuff back in. He’s all, Kid on the way this, and Haven’t-got-time-for-this-shit that. He doesn’t fire Kenneth, exactly, but lets just say, the department he transfers him too isn’t what one would consider “essential.”

“How do you guys expect to sell a new CD that is only available online if the computers are down?” says Chris. He’s got the fifty of us gathered together in the conference room for an emergency staff meeting. Chris looks around and calls on Herman from purchasing. “Herman,” he says. “I’m making you the new I.T. guy.”

To say that Herman is excited would be an understatement. He’s does this little thing where he chases his tail around the room for minute and then climbs up the table in front of Chris and wraps himself up in this cute little ball on Chris’ shoulder. We all know Herman is showing off, but he’s wanted this job bad, we all know it, he never shuts up about it. Everyday in the lunchroom, he’s all, I know computers better than anyone, I’m a level sixty on World of Warcraft, I had the first iMac, I was the first to have all of Chris’ albums on my iPod, yada yada yada.

In the meeting, Herman tells everyone that chewing though wires won’t be a problem with him, he hasn’t eaten nuts since the Apple II came out, and reminds everyone that that was like thirty years ago. Phil from accounting turns to me a says, “Really? This guy? Since when do we squirrels live thirty years?”

So, for a while, Herman does pretty good. He doubles Chris’ Twitter posts. Facebook calls and says they like how he’s customized Chris’ fan page and can they interest him in an extra twenty thousand a year and this whole winter/nut layaway plan. Herman, of course, reminds them he doesn’t eat nuts so the negotiations go nowhere.

When Chris finds Herman’s stash of squirrel porn hidden on a computer Herman thought no one checked, he’s even angrier than when Kenneth chewed through the wires. Next thing you know Kenneth is back from wherever he ended up, but this time with strict orders to wear this cute little squirrel helmet with a facemask during working hours so he won’t be tempted.

Chris bumps Herman back down to purchasing where he eventually falls, totally and completely, off the nut wagon. I find him stuffing nuts in with CD orders, nuts behind the coffee machine, he even tries to convince Chris to record some of his old CDs with lyrics about nuts. Sadly, Chris is forced to release Herman into the woods, which, happens rarely around here, but it does happen.

So, that’s the last few months. Kenneth is doing great, CD orders are up, and we continue to charge ahead boldly here at CT Headquarters despite Herman’s absence. God’s speed Herman. God’s speed, my friend.

The Squirrels.

About the Author

Chris TarryChris Tarry is a four-time Juno Award winning musician and a writer. His debut collection of short fiction, “How To Carry Bigfoot Home,” is out now from Red Hen Press (March 2015). He lives in Maplewood, New Jersey with his wife Michelle, daughter Chloe, and son Lucas. Connect with Chris on Google+, Facebook, and Twitter.View all posts by Chris Tarry