I couldn’t believe it. The motherfucker just sat there, staring at me. I threw another rock that narrowly missed its head. But still that furry piece of shit just stared at me, all the while just casually chewing on his nuts. This wasn’t the typical stare you would expect from a squirrel. It was more like that look you give the guy who cuts you off on the highway or the guy that steps on your new shoes in the grocery. That look that says “who is this bitch and why am I gonna have to slap him?” I did not even know that a squirrel’s face was capable of the expressions that could convey those type of emotions, yet here I was, standing in a park with a feeling like I was about to get bitch slapped by a squirrel.
While not wholly terrifying, it was enough to make me question my current station in life. Here it was, 2:37 in the afternoon, and I’m in a park trying to hit a squirrel with a rock for the sole reason that I have absolutely nothing better to do with my time. I started to think about how all my other friends from college are out doing things with their lives, working good jobs and accomplishing their goals. I could do that. All I need is the right motivation. And that’s when it hit me. Not a sudden grand realization about my life or a deep insight into the inner workings of my mind. No, it was something much smaller and more tangible. It was…..a fucking acorn. What the hell? It was right about then that I looked down to see the squirrel standing much closer than he was a minute ago, still staring directly at me.
While slightly unnerving this was no reason to panic. “It’s a fucking squirrel” I kept telling myself. It’s not like I was being stalked by some lion on the plains of the Serengeti. After all, this was a problem that could, for all intents and purposes, simply be stepped on. Or kicked into a bush. Or flung into a pond. But, as I was standing there weighing my options, I got hit again. Right in the fucking face. By another fucking acorn. And that squirrelly bastard had inched even closer.
Now I was starting to feel uneasy. This glorified rat had finally put some perspective on my life and I could tell that this moment was indeed a crossroads. Do I punt this motherfucker up into a tree or do I run away screaming, forever instilled with the knowledge that I was once a squirrel’s bitch. No, not today. Today I make my stand. Today I take control back in my life. It was about at that point of self realization that I noticed something else. The squirrel was gone. Where’d he go?
It must have all been my imagination. I mean, how many people have even had a single acorn, let alone multiple acorns chucked at their head by a disgruntled rodent? That just wouldn’t make sense. It all must’ve been a product of my vivid imagination. Relieved, I began to walk down the path again. But then another acorn bounced off of the back of my head. As I turned to look behind me, I found I was nose to tiny nose with the squirrel, who had jumped onto my shoulder. He looked at me and I thought I heard him speak. It was the type of voice you would expect from a squirrel, all squeaky and high pitched, like a little kid on helium. “Why you throwin rocks at me bitch?”
Now I was truly terrified. I turned to run away but ran straight into a tree instead. I fell to the ground in a daze, barely conscious. As I laid there trying to piece together the events of the last several minutes, I could feel something slowly marching up my chest. Then I heard it again, that tiny squeaking voice. “Yeah, tell me how you like this motherfucker.” Still a little dazed, I thought I could feel my face getting wet. I looked up and the squirrel was grinning a huge grin as he stood there and peed directly into my face. I was shocked, completely unable to move until he was finished. Then the little bastard hopped off my chest and climbed back into a tree. I stood up and tried to regain my composure when all of a sudden I heard “suck deez nuts bitch” coming from up in the tree. I was met with a barrage of acorns that sent me running away screaming. As I looked back I could see that shitty little squirrel staring at me. And I swear that I think he was flipping me off with his tiny little squirrel feet. It was so insulting yet kinda cute at the same time.
My experiences from that day did indeed change my life. I became a shell of a man. I quit trying to accomplish anything and gradually collapsed under the weight of my own fear and apathy. I now sleep in an alley behind the library and wear my underwear on the outside of my pants. So I guess the moral of this story would be: don’t sweat the small stuff. You shouldn’t let little things get to you, otherwise you might end up sleeping in an alley eating a shoe for dinner. And the other moral: Squirrels are dicks.