Going Mad

He perched himself on the edge of the window sill. Watching them. They were up to something. He could feel it. They always were. But that isn't what aggravated him the most. What annoyed him was the fact that they knew. They all knew. They were secretly mocking him. Laughing at his ignorance. At him.

Every year it was the same story. They would dart around. And they would find theseā€¦things. And then they hid it. Over, and over, and over again. All the while they never stopped their incessant chatter. Communicating in their secret tongue.

They'd be in the middle of an animated conversation, when suddenly; one of them would stop and glance at him. It would hold his unblinking gaze for several seconds before breaking its eye contact, and resuming its conversation right where it left off.

It's driving him over the edge. With each year that passes, he grows worse, and worse. He's even starting to sport something eerily close to a grin. Only each day it's growing more and more maniacal. And the truth of the matter is; he's fading fast. Only stripes of the old him are still there. And even they are disappearing. Pretty soon all that's going to remain is that Cheshire grin.

And to think. It all started with some squirrels.

.

.

.

Curiosity killed the cat

Says the father to his lad

But what he does not understand

Is that it simply drove him mad