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| Topic: There's Something Sinister about Squirrels | |
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I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighbourhood could be so incredibly dangerous!
Little did I suspect ...I was on Broad Street - a very nice neighbourhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it - it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers never fear, squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves! Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Banzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular ... as he shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage! Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing... I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel should have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH! Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back, unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in ... well ... I just plain screamed. Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn-t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle... My brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser. About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on The Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment) so her front end started to drop. Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time, it worked ... sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of ... so to speak. Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car. I heard screams. They weren't mine... I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street and was aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car. So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me, shooting me the finger ... That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car ... but it was all his. I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off of Broad Street, and sedately left the neighbourhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And................. some Band-Aids  
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seems you had an encounter with him!
 
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I actually had a squirrel jump on my head once! |
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"There's Something Sinister about Squirrels"
Especially Mississippi squirrels. If you don't know what I mean, then click here. Well when I was kid I'd take a trip
Every summer down to Mississippi To visit my granny in her antebellum world. I'd run barefooted all day long, Climbing trees free as a song. One day I happened catch myself a squirrel. Well I stuffed him down in an old shoe-box, Punched a couple holes in the top. When Sunday came, I snuck him in the church. I was sittin' way back in the very last pew, Showin' him to my good buddy Hugh, When that squirrel got loose and went totally berserk. Well what happened next is hard to tell. Some thought it was Heaven others thought it was Hell, But the fact that something was among us was plain to see. As the choir sang, "I surrender all," The squirrel ran up Harv Newlan's coveralls. Harv leaped to his feet and said, "Somethin's got a hold on me." The day the squirrel went berserk In the First Self-Righteous Church In that sleepy little town of Pascagoula, It was a fight for survival that broke out in revival. They were jumpin' pews and shouting, "Hallelujah!" Well Harv hit the aisles, dancin' and screamin'. Some thought he had religion. Others thought he had a demon, And Harv thought he had a weed-eater loose in his Fruit of the Looms. He fell to his knees to plead and beg, And that squirrel ran out of his britches leg, Unobserved to the other side of the room, All the way down to the Amen pew, Where sat Sister Bertha Better-than-you, Who had been watching all the commotion with sadistic glee. Shoot, you should've seen the look in her eyes, When that squirrel jumped her garters and crossed her thighs. She jumped to her feet and said, "Lord, have mercy on me." As the squirrel made laps inside her dress, She began to cry and then to confess To sins that would make a sailor blush with shame. She told of gossip and church dissension, But the thing that got the most attention Was when she talked about her love life, And then she started naming names. The day the squirrel went berserk In the First Self-Righteous Church In that sleepy little town of Pascagoula, It was a fight for survival that broke out in revival They were jumpin' pews and shouting, "Hallelujah!" Well 7 deacons and then the pastor got saved, And 25,000 dollars got raised, And 50 volunteered for missions in the Congo on the spot, And even without an invitation, There were at least 500 re-dedications, And we all got re-baptized whether we needed it or not. Now you've heard the Bible story, I guess, How He parted the waters for Moses to pass, All the miracles God has brought to this ol' world, But the one I'll remember to my dyin' day Is how He put that church back on the narrow way With a half crazed Mississippi squirrel. The day the squirrel went berserk In the First Self-Righteous Church In that sleepy little town of Pascagoula, It was a fight for survival that broke out in revival They were jumpin' pews and shouting, "Hallelujah!" - Mississippi Squirrel Revival by Ray Stevens |
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