September 3rd: A scratching sound in the ceiling

It's two o'clock in the morning. I was sleeping in bed, but now I'm awake, listening. I could have sworn I heard a noise. Yes, there it is again, it's a scratching sound. Where is it coming from? The ceiling. What would be making a scratching noise in the ceiling?

Suddenly there's a cracking sound above, and then a crashing sound below. It's pitch black, and I can't see anything, but something fell and hit the floor. I turn on a light and sit up in bed to see what's happened. There's some plaster ... there's dust everywhere ... and, wait, there's a small body there too. It's ... no, it can't be ... "Squirrel, is that you?"

"Hey Al," Squirrel says, standing up, and dusting himself off. "What are you doing up here?"

"Me???" I ask, "I live up here. This is the second floor of the cabin. What are YOU doing here?"

"Huh," Squirrel says, looking up at the hole in the ceiling, "I thought I was in the attic. It's so cold outside I was looking for a warmer place to stay, so I got under the roof and starting digging around. Say, is that a bed you've got there?", Squirrel says, pointing in my direction. "With real sheets, and, whoa," he said, with his eyes getting really big as he walks over towards me, "And is that a pillow?"

"Stop right there little fella", I say, putting my hand up in the air. "There's an air mattress right behind you. That's where the visitors sleep."

"Sweet!", Squirrel said, running across the floor, hopping up on the air mattress, and curling up under a pile of folded sheets. "See you in the morning."

"When the landlord finds out about this I am going to be in so much trouble," I mumble, turning off the light.

"Good night, Al", Squirrel says.

"Good night, little buddy."