So how did the other chipmunks succumb in such short order? Well, one, which had a summer home across the street, raced across the pavement--synchronizing his speeding little paws in a directly perpendicular intersection with the balding tires of a moody teenage driver. His or her remains (the chipmunk's, not the moody teenager's) indicated that it suffered irreparable damage while the car at worst experienced a slight bump, at worst shaking loose a bit of rust or spilling what remained of a warm can of Milwaukee's Best.
Had the driver not had his radio on, he made have heard the death scream of the chipmunk, although, to date, it must be admitted that scientists have not documented the death scream of a chipmunk; perhaps their acoustical equipment is not sensitive enough or not regularly maintained. That is sometimes a problem. People don't believe in something simply because the instrumentation is not up to par. There's a lesson in that, somehow somewhat trivial, however.
It certainly doesn't change the outcome for chipmunk #5.
As for the others: Well, too much death all at once is depressing. At future points in my narrative, I'll reveal some of the ways others have succumbed. Be prepared. It's not always pretty.
In fact, if there's a basic law in nature, it's this: Little critters usually come to an unpleasant end. All right, I won't sugar coat it. Little critters usually come to a horrific, grisly, and terrifying end. Unfortunate but true . . . it appears to be a role in life (and death) that they're destined to play.
Be thankful you're not a little critter. But don't be too thankful. Life is unfair in general. People sometimes end up like chipmunks and gophers and squirrels and rabbits and raccoons . . . Here's proof. If that's too far removed, try your own newspaper or local news. Even clever raccoons get themselves into trouble from which they cannot escape.
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