Tree Droppings

THWACK.

Two. Three. Four. Five.

THWACK.

Two. Three. Four. Five.

THWACK.

Two. Three. Four. Five.

Every five seconds or so my slumber was interrupted by THWACK.  Just as I was about to fall asleep again, another THWACK would slap me upside the dream I was having about Russell Crowe with his shirt off again in Gladiator. 

THWACK.

Finally I was awake. Not a nice wake up with the sun kind of awake. A what the heck is that annoying sound  awake. The kind that leaves you P.O.'d all day.

I got up out of bed and went over to look out the window. Nothing. The little bastards were gone.

THWACK.

No they weren't. And this time I saw it.

Tiny acorns were falling five stories to the ground from the very tall oak trees outside the window. The trees were laden with these miniature missiles. Loaded for bear. THWACK. Went another one.

When the little bombs landed they split in two, much to the delight of the waiting squirrels.

THWACK.

I can sleep through almost any kind of street noise.  Cars honking.  People shouting.  Sirens.  You name it.

Get me out of town, where the only noise is the sound of grass growing and teeny weeny acorns falling to the ground might as well be cluster bombs.

It may be THWACK.  But it sounds like KA-BOOM!

I closed the windows and covered my head with a pillow. It helped.

THWUMPH.

A little.