Let me tell you the story of the missing groundhog. One February, many many years ago, the world awoke to devastating news. The groundhog that everyone relied on to predict the seasons was missing. The newspaper headlines read MISSING GROUNDHOG. It was the only conversational point on every news station nationwide. The fate of the poor groundhog never was discovered by the public. All we knew was that Kevin, the caretaker of the groundhog, awoke to an empty cage and an open front door one morning. There was no evidence of an escape – nothing had been knocked over, the cage door was still latched, and there were no footprints on the ground. Everyone suspected a kidnapping. But who? Who would want to kidnap a groundhog? And how were they able to pull it off? Many reporters claimed it was a neighborhood kid or perhaps someone who really hates Groundhog Day. But I know that’s a lie.
Truthfully, it was a bet. I was meant to borrow the groundhog, and if I was able to not get caught for 24 hours, said groundhog would be returned safely and I would win one thousand dollars. This heist was made slightly harder by the fact that I first had to get out of my cell and past the prison guards. I am not going to share my methods of escape here – after all this story is about a groundhog, not a prison break. Just know that it involved a bobby pin and a slice of lemon pie.
By now, you’ve probably reached the conclusion that I was arrested for breaking and entering, robbing, or a similarly sneaky crime. You would be wrong. I was arrested for making a U-turn on the highway. More on that later. Anyways, the other inmates found that ridiculous, and decided I needed to something slightly more criminal to prove I belonged there.
So, there I found myself, gazing into the eyes of a big brown furry creature. I scooped him up and returned myself to the prison. Turns out no one thought I could do it, and they never had any intention of paying me. I didn’t like those results, and I already escaped once, so why not again? I took the groundhog with me, intending to return him, but realized I couldn’t remember the way back to the poor man’s house. The groundhog and I proceeded to flee to a small neighboring country (though I can’t tell you which one) and we expect to live out the rest of our lives here, however long that may be. What’s the lifespan of a groundhog anyway?
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