Little Squirrels Can Climb Tall Trees by Michael Murphy (namjoon book recommendations txt) 📕

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SW

Ste 2, PMB# 279

Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Little Squirrels Can Climb Tall Trees

Copyright © 2012 by Michael Murphy

Cover Art by Anne Cain

[email protected]

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-61372-617-4

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

July 2012

eBook edition available

eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-618-1

For Danny

A

UTHOR

’

S

N

OTE

YEARS ago I sat in a theater in New York City and heard Betty Buckley sing about Norma Desmond’s ability to convey an entire story with a brief look:

“With one look, I can break your heart

With one look, I play every part

I can make your sad heart sing

With one look you’ll know all you need to know.”

I thought the music in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Sunset Boulevard was nice, but tell an entire story with just one look? No way.

The genesis of this story can be traced to a very specific moment in time that disproved my doubts about telling a story with one look. One Sunday afternoon I happened to spot a guy standing by himself in a crowded room. With one ten-second glance at this guy, this story was born. With one look I had a story unfold in my head like a dried sponge that had been rehydrated, suddenly filling out and expanding one hundred fold.

The guy I spotted ever so briefly was tall—very tall. I’m guessing that he was easily six foot six inches tall. Later I managed to get close enough to him to be able to determine that my head came up to his armpit (and I’m pretty average in height). This was a social event—a party—so I spoke to the guy. To speak with him I had to lean my head back to look up at his face, that face way up there.

The tall guy was very nice, very smart, and not necessarily comfortable in the social setting. My mind was suddenly filling with thoughts about what it must have been like for him to grow up and live so far above everyone else. In that crowd of one hundred-plus people, he was a minority of one, even though he was a white heterosexual guy in a predominantly white, male, heterosexual crowd.

So I went home and started writing. This story was expanding in my mind so rapidly that I couldn’t seem to write fast enough to get it all on paper (sounds better than “on screen”). My spouse thought I was mad at him. I tried my best to explain that an idea had grabbed hold of me, that a scenario was grappling with me, and that characters were talking in my head and I needed to write it all down. He said he understood, but I secretly think he was sure I was nuts.

Nuts. Tall guy. Tall like a tree. Squirrels climb trees and like nuts. Okay.

—Michael Murphy

Chapter 1

“OW!”

“Damn!”

I don’t know which of us was more surprised. From the look on his face, the other guy was just as unsure as I was.

It was a busy Sunday afternoon at the gym. Somehow—don’t ask me how—as I had started to get up from my weight bench, I hadn’t been paying attention and had banged my head into another guy’s just as he was doing the same thing from the bench right next to mine. Talk about timing!

We each rubbed our sore heads for a second, unsure who was at fault. And then the guy burst out laughing.

We’d never met before bumping into one another—literally—in the gym that afternoon. Some guys, when they get into the exercise zone, wouldn’t respond well in such a situation, but this guy laughed, and I guess it really was funny. His laugh was infectious and made me laugh as well, something I hadn’t done much of lately.

When he stood—this time without running into my head—and apologized, I noticed that the man was tall. Really tall. I mean really tall. Remarkably tall. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t Jolly Green Giant tall, but still he was so tall that to stand and look at his face, I had to lean my head back a little bit. And I’m not short. At five feet five inches tall, I’m basically average height. My guess is the guy was about six four or six five, maybe even six six. Still, that was a foot taller than I was, so I was looking up to talk to the guy, but it seemed to be worth the effort.

Our mutual apologies finished, we each continued on our way. I thought nothing more of it at the time since I was in my own version of the personal workout zone. I noticed the guy was very attractive but didn’t really give it much thought. I was no dog in terms of looks, but I was not in his league. Not even close.

So imagine my surprise when, after my workout, I was in the locker room changing, minding my own business (okay, okay, I know, but it really was true this time), and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome walked in and opened the locker right next to mine. I don’t remember now who said what first, but we got into one of the most natural, comfortable discussions two strangers can have in the gym locker room. I think he said something about the odds of having lockers right next to each other and having bumped into