The Acorn Annuity Gambit

Reginald, a squirrel of discerning taste and advanced financial anxiety, decided burying nuts was an archaic and statistically unsound retirement plan. He arrived at the First National Bank of Oak, his tiny briefcase clutched in his paws, a miniature power tie askew.

Brenda, the teller, mid-sip of lukewarm coffee, did a double-take. "Sir? Can I help you?" she asked, eyeing the furry patron.

"Reginald Nutkins," he squeaked, placing the briefcase on the counter, "I'm here to discuss a high-yield savings account. My acorns are not generating sufficient interest in their current subterranean holdings."

Brenda blinked. "You... you're a squirrel."

"Astute observation, Brenda," Reginald replied, adjusting his tie with a flourish of his tiny paw. "Now, about your Certificate of Deposit options. Do you offer an early withdrawal penalty waiver for unforeseen winter emergencies, perhaps a badger-related incident?"

He then opened his briefcase, revealing a meticulously organized pile of glistening acorns. "These," he declared, "represent generations of careful foraging. I need them secured. Perhaps an IRA? A Roth Acorn-RA, if you will."

Brenda slowly put down her coffee. Her Monday had officially peaked. She just stared, contemplating whether to call security, a veterinarian, or her therapist. Reginald, meanwhile, began sketching a complex financial projection on a napkin with a stolen pen, murmuring something about diversified portfolios and the volatile market for black walnuts.