That family of fat squirrels living in those trees across from my apartment is really pissing me off. Every time I walk by with a bag of groceries, I can only cringe with cold fear, knowing dozens of soul-less eyes full of hatred and malicious intent are peering in my direction.
These rodents are pure evil, plain and simple, and they are only getting worse. I’ve been watching them for some time, and I know they are up to something. Every day, squirrels can be seen moving pieces of bark, nuts and rubbish forth and back between trees, or entrenching themselves in their tree-bunkers.
I’ve even witnessed war games, where they chase each other up and down the trees using the latest in lethal squirrel claw technology. Though I have no direct evidence as of yet, I am positive that they are building up their forces for a massed assault against my apartment, and they will use everything in their arsenal, including rabies, tick-borne diseases, and walnuts of mass destruction to achieve their diabolical plans.
This malevolent force must be stopped. I’ve tried to deal with these squirrels peacefully, but they will not listen. For months, I’ve pleaded with their leader, a tragically obese squirrel the neighborhood children refer to as “Mr. Cuddles,” to disarm, but he has refused to even talk to me. I called upon the CDC to come in and test for harmful biologicals, but they found nothing, proving how clever these rodents are at hiding thing because the fact they are harboring these weapons is quite simply irrefutable.
I know there are proper channels to deal with such rodents, including the Division of Wildlife and the Humane Society, but I will not use these channels because they have little or no comprehension of just how evil these squirrels are and are ill-equipped handle the problem properly. No, it will be better for everyone in my neighborhood if I deal with the fuzzy infestation myself and save countless lives from ungodly suffering.
A week ago, I nailed several notes to the squirrels’ trees, demanding that they promptly disarm or go to war. They were ignored. Two days ago, I sent a special message to Mr. Cuddles, telling him his life would be spared if he surrenders all of his power and exiles himself to another neighborhood within 48 hours. Now, at the end of that time, I have learned that Mr. Cuddles is still giving orders within his capital branch citadel. That will change – the time for battle has come.
My first attacks in the campaign to be known as “Operation Tree Freedom” will be designed to take out Mr. Cuddles himself by throwing rocks at his favorite branch, a decapitation attack of such brute force and lethal cunning that the odds are very good that Cuddles will be taken out of the picture early in the conflict and leave the resulting chain of command in a state of chaos.
Then, my allies and I will use our current wintry environment to our full advantage. I have been given permission by Mr. Harrison, my neighbor, to use his backyard as a base of operations for the very low cost of 144 cookies and a case of beer. From there, we will launch our forces, charging and screaming our way to the squirrels’ trees while launching hundreds of snowballs in an attack designed to shock and awe their flea-ridden punk-ass hides straight to the frozen depths of the Ninth Circle of Hell.
After the successful completion of this attack, there will be a regime change, where a rodent of my choice (such as Fuzzball, my downstairs neighbor’s hamster) will take over and make a new tree colony that favors me completely and will bow to each and every one of my whims.
Yes, there will be casualties on both sides in this campaign. I have instructed my friends to treat all captured squirrels humanely. If Mr. Cuddles treats his prisoners poorly, he will be (assuming he lives through the conflict) put to death as a war criminal instantly. Likewise, if the squirrels create an environmental disaster by setting the surrounding foliage on fire, they will be convicted of countless environmental crimes and be fully prosecuted.
Due to my careful planning, I foresee this to be a short conflict. I gave peace a try, but Mr. Cuddles and his minions have given me no choice – a pity for everyone involved.
Ken Hamner vows that no squirrels were actually harmed in the making of this column. Mr. Cuddles and his tree colony will remain safe.