Wednesday, May 17, 2017


Sunday afternoon we had a Mother's Day picnic at the park. All was fine...until the squirrel approached.


It was one of those squirrels that is living like a queen or king on leftover picnic food and human handouts. These are the type of squirrels that make me fear of humans. They enter a space like they are pop stars, assuming we all care about them, and if we ignore them they just amp things up. Basically it is like being terrorized by a very small and nimble homicidal maniac. 

What should one do?! Run away? 

Look. I did the wrong thing. I panicked and threw food at it, hoping it would grab-n-go. Instead it stuffed its face and brazenly drew nearer. Asking for, no, demanding, more food. Food or our blood. I could tell, the squirrel was threatening us. Black eyes staring into the corners of our minds, seeing our darkest squirrel shaped nightmares.

Now, I am not sure if this is clear, squirrels scare me a lot. I am torn about them. I love all animals and I want them to be happy, but like on a special squirrel planet a million light years away (oh that is the stuff of nightmares). Anyway, log story short,  squirrels really freak me out!

Ugh. Then my dad did this! I died. Too much! Dead. 

The end.

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