I got the strangest voice mail message from my friend today. Okay, so that’s not exactly accurate. Were it from one of anyone else’s friends, it would have been really strange. But from one of my friends, it was pretty typical.
“I just thought you’d be interested,” my friend began. “I was on the way to work today, and I saw squirrels running in the street. But they weren’t just running. They were running in an organized formation.” He went on to explain that he suspected an uprising – and that I might want to take the necessary precautions. Then he hung up. End of message.
I was a little concerned, but I really didn’t think anything of it until I got another message from him two days later. “I just thought you might like to know,” he began, “that another one of the guy
s from work saw the squirrels, too.” He seriously cautioned me to be on the lookout.
I raced to the door to make sure it was locked – I checked the windows, too – and then I sat down to think about the situation.
The squirrels are organizing. This can’t be good.
I tried to look on the positive side. Maybe they were holding some squirrel marathon. But my friend didn’t mention anything about the squirrels wearing running shoes. Besides, a squirrel marathon would be silly.
Maybe, I thought, the squirrels know something that the rest of us on the planet don’t know. Maybe we’re about to be attacked by a fierce army of rodents from another planet, and the squirrels are our only hope.
But, then again, I’ve never known a squirrel to be especially benevolent.
That’s when I remembered the story that my mom told me not long ago. She said that she and Dad had been sitting peacefully, eating dinner and minding their own business, when they heard strange scratching sounds. They turned to find that a rather large squirrel had climbed his way up the screen door and was gnawing through the metal screen.
And just last week, when a friend and I were walking through the park, we stopped to notice a black squirrel as he gathered acorns. As we continued to walk, we heard a crack above our heads, and a branch fell from the tree and landed right on my head.
That’s when I realized that my friend was right after all. The squirrels were organizing. They’re out to get us.
I think my brothers could have something to do with the uprising. They used to shoot at squirrels with their BB guns. I can imagine that I’d be pissed off if little kids kept chasing me and shooting me with BBs.
And my dad once built a contraption that kept the squirrels from climbing up our bird feeder and eating all of the birdseed. I’m sure that didn’t help the situation.
So thanks to the insensitivity of people like my father and brothers, the squirrels have had enough. They’re lacing up their little squirrel boots, and they’re stockpiling their little squirrel weapons. Soon, we’ll see how my brothers enjoy being shot at – and how my dad enjoys having his food ripped right out of his hands…
It’s not going to be pretty – that’s all I can predict. I’ve never known a squirrel to be especially merciful, and I don’t expect any of them to begin now. Just watch – before long, anyone who’s ever bounced a rock off a little squirrel noggin is gonna suffer.
There might be ways, though, to escape the imminent wrath of the squirrels (and maybe the rest of their rodent friends, too). First, I suggest that you stockpile acorns. I’ve already gathered several garbage bags full, figuring they’ll be useful as currency – and perhaps bribes – later. Second, run! Lock up your home, and hurry to any place where there are no squirrels. I recommend relocating to islands and continents where squirrels don’t even exist – perhaps Antarctica. That way, you’ll be separated by large bodies of water – and everyone knows that squirrels aren’t very fast swimmers.
Of course, they could be building boats.
You may not believe me, but this is a very serious situation. Squirrels are sick of their dumb furry animal reputation, and they’re prepared to do whatever it takes to get their revenge.
Remember that time you ran over a squirrel with the wheel of your car?
So do they.