by McKenzie Snellgrove
I encountered a squirrel today and saw mutiny in its eyes. Walking across campus in the beautiful weather, I have often found myself scanning the luscious green landscape and admiring the blossoms of spring. On this fateful day, however, my gazing was interrupted by a fat and furry squirrel sitting upright on the edge of the sidewalk. With his tail poised and head cocked to the side, I felt his gaze meet mine. The deep brown eyes of this squirrel entranced me and, in an instant, I felt his rage enter my body. There seemed to be a quiet and pulsating fire burning at his core, fueled by years of scarce harvests and cold winters, lit by endless days of running away from gigantic menaces with backpacks walking to class. Though this meeting connected us in a way I will never forget or fully comprehend, it could not save me from what was destined to happen…
As I looked down at his tiny paws grasping a large acorn close to his round belly, his grip seemed to tighten. His large eyes narrowed, his head bowed low, and his arms swung back behind his head as he reared up to throw. I held out my hands in defense and felt the small nut bounce lightly off my palm. Nothing. I admit I laughed a little, amused at the trivial toss of a common seed. It was only after I looked back down at the sidewalk that I realized my error. For, you see, as my eyes found the pavement, there was no squirrel to be seen. Nothing but a light indent on a spot in the grass where I assumed the squirrel had run off in fear of retaliation.
Now it has been said of squirrels that they are friendly and docile creatures, but as I have come to learn, they are anything but. As I continued along the path, I felt a strange sensation crawling up my back—fear. Though I could see nothing around me in all directions, I had the sneaking suspicion that I was being watched. The sun suddenly hid behind a deep and dark cloud, turning what had been a beautiful and sunny day into an obscured world of terror. Branches began to fall from the trees, crashing on the sidewalk before me. Even the flowers in their newly planted beds tucked their petals into themselves and bowed away from my view. With every step I took, my legs got weaker and weaker as I felt the terror spread through my body until finally I collapsed on the sidewalk. Lying on my back, facing up at the canopy of trees, that was when I saw it. Standing atop the branches, furry and naked as every day since they were born, at least 200,000 squirrels had joined together to create one ginormous, monster mega-squirrel! Its arms were long and thick like a gorilla, but it had the abs of 100 men. It had feet the size of school buses and a head the size of Mars. The tail was the biggest of them all, encompassing almost all of the Grace Doherty Library! It also for some reason had a fanny pack—I didn’t know what exactly it was being used for, but I’m sure the purpose was nefarious.
The last thing I remember before it all went black was the giant creature descending onto me like a wrecking ball smashing into a Lego set, about to crush me into the sidewalk. As I prepared myself for death, I felt a very small paw rest gently on my ear and heard a soft voice whisper: “We’re not fat, we’re furry.” As soon as the voice vanished, I was instantly decimated by the impact of the mega-squirrel and have been contained here in hell ever since. So remember, squirrels may be cute and tiny now, but they could rise up and kill us all. I guess we’d better mind our manners.