We have been invaded.
Most people haven’t noticed. They go about their daily tribulations thinking a cold cup of coffee, an out-of-date newspaper, and gridlock are the worst things that could happen to them. They arrive at the office, their hair askew, their make-up (if they’re women) unfinished, and their suit wrinkled. TPS reports and bad bosses litter their day before they drag themselves out to the bar for a good sousing. Rinse, Repeat. Rinse, Repeat.
But we have been invaded. And the worse part is, the invaders aren’t aliens. Like us, they come from Earth.
Even I didn’t believe it at first. But I’ve watched them, seen them plot, watched them put their schemes in motion. It didn’t take long before I noticed the pattern. Now I am putting out the warning for all. Ignore it at your own peril.
My father used to stake out dried corn cobs to feed the animals during the winter. He liked watching the wildlife outside his front window. One week, he fell sick. As he tossed and turned with fever, the current cob was denuded of its kernels, but he was unable to replace it with a full one. One day passed, then two. The empty cob sat on its nail, a lonely reminder of winter’s cold indifference.
Things changed on day three. We found cob laying on the barren ground, rolling around in the wind with no sign of how it came off the nail.
Day four came, then day five, and still my father was unable to stir himself to replace the cob.
On day six, a knock came on the door. I remember so clearly that knock sounded odd. Another knock, then the sound of something small hitting the door. A kid, I thought, playing pranks. So I opened the door to chase them away, but no one stood upon our porch. Or so I thought. An angry chitter called my attention down, and there the invader sat, waiting. His whiskers twitched. His tiny arms gestured. His black, bushy tail curled around his hindquarters, the tip tapping his impatience against the concrete floor. He pointed to the cob, and did not move.
We should have recognized the danger in that moment, but alas, we found it amusing. We did as the invader bid, putting out a new cob, and watched him and his friends devour it. It was fun, but little did we know, we were being trained as slaves to humanity’s future rulers.
I later found out that my family was not the first so accosted. Nor would we be the last.
Over the years, the invaders have trained many people. If humanity (or their pets) misbehave, the invaders make use of horrendous weapons, like acorn missiles. The invaders have learned to taunt us, knowing how to push our buttons. They sit up in the trees, laughing as we run around trying to catch them. When we displease them, they use their natural weapons, claws and teeth, to great effect. We live at their whim, wrecking our cars to avoid hitting them on the streets, putting out corn and bird seed to aid in their survival, giving them our dogs to torture and maim. The invaders terrorize us, attacking individual humans as practice for the day when their armies have enough numbers to knock us off our lofty evolutionary perch as Earth’s dominant species.
And they will conquer us. One day, all of us will find our entire lives devoted to the service of … squirrels.
You think I joke? Try these little articles on for size (Demon Squirrel, Vermont Squirrelmageddon, The Dog Ambush). And then, when you’re done reading, take a walk in your neighborhood to see how many of these furry little world conquers live there. Be careful, though. The squirrels are cunning and have been watching you a lot longer than you have been watching them.
We will not survive if we do not prepare. You have been warned. Now go warn your family and friends.
One Response
Squirrel Evil
SEE?!? I have been saying that for years and yet you never believed me. They are evil critters that stalk their prey relentlessly…. Dave Barry knew it. He wrote about it. Now you can join the resistance with the rest of us that see their evil ways….