“Oh wow,” were Dr. Eggs Benedict’s final words after realizing the ketchup stain on his shirt began to gush blood. It was one of those stray bullets from a highway drive by. What were the odds of it hitting the stain? Seriously. Instinctively, he turned up the radio.
Everyone called him Bert; when in actuality, his name was George. He had an intense unibrow, an exaggerated orange oval nose, a tuft of black hair atop his head, and yellow skin. To offset his rather oblong face, he always wore a vertical striped shirt, which also had a slimming effect.
This was an unusual squirrel for many reasons. Foremost, he was 68 years old. His extended longevity allowed him the luxury to identify himself as male, and thusly name himself, Sammy. To put things in perspective, it is rare, probably impossible, for a squirrel to live more than 25 years, especially on the rugged gang-infested streets of South side Chicago.
All of his friends were doing it was the only logical excuse Justin Sheepskin needed to unwittingly register his face into a facial recognition database. How could he not help data miners? It was the latest craze. Submit a current photo of yourself into an app, short for application, and the program will generate a photo predicting how you’ll look up to 40 years in the future.