It ain't enough I spent most of yesterday in the ER...
Goddamned, motherfucking, crackhead squrls, man.
So I get up to greet the day, doo doo doo look out my backdoor, and there's m'squrl. I know it's
my squrl, cuz when I knocked on the window this fucker don't even look, he jumps from like five feet up the side of the tree, and heads right for his spot. He's taken up a spot on the arm of the porch swing as his Point of Cookie Reception.
Or, I should say, his
Point of Ambush.
I walk (doo doo doo) out my back door to give this varmint his fucking cookie, and this sumbitch jumps from about three feet away and lands on my wrist and does a tapdance that Sammy Davis, Jr. woulda been proud of. He skinned-the-cat around my wrist before I could body slam him. If you've ever heard a squrl bounce off concrete, you'll never forget the sound. It is unique.
He peeled out on my patio like Junior Johnson w/a load o'moonshine and revenuers hot on his ass. He didn't stop til the base of the maple tree about forty feet away. And then stopped at the base of the tree like his life was not in imminent peril.
After I disentangled myself from the swing
, I saw the cookie lying on the patio and picked it up and chucked it, not in the direction of the Squrl.
He went for it well before it ever landed. I don't know if he got it or not, and I don't care at this point.
At this point, I'm worried about the scratches his creepy little rat feet left on my cookie hand. Now I gotta worry about what was on his creepy little rat feet. Now I gotta worry about distemper, squrl AIDS, chlamydia, and what-the-fuck-ever-else I might get from the little crackhead sumbitch. I'm not worried about rabies. I've read in more than one place that it's virtually impossible for a squrl to transmit rabies.
And, of course, we're out of alcohol. The rubbing kind, not the drinking kind (had to use hydrogen peroxide and slather the Neosporin). Although I
could use drink right about now. You ever been attacked by a squrl? I wouldn't recommend it.
The ungrateful little rat bastard just might get his next cookie from the end of a rifle barrel if I feel the slightest toe-twinge from normal.
Mmm, it's been a long time since I last had squrl n gravy.
Maybe with some sauteed onions.
