Killer Squirrel

Saturday mornings are my time to sleep in. I've been known to sleep until noon or 1pm, on occasion, just because I can. I loooves me some sleep.

One Saturday morning, around 8 a.m., I heard a persistent scratching at my window. Since the hour was a single digit and it WAS Saturday morning, I decided not to get up and take a peek. Fuck it, I thought.

After about 30 minutes of scratch, scatchity, scratch, and not being able to fall back asleep, I got up and pulled the venetian blind. Holy fuck, there's a squirrel inside my window, stuck between the glass and the screen. His claws looked as large as eagle's talons and his fangs dripped blood...I can only assume human blood. (Alright, I might be exaggerating, but I was half asleep and I was pretty traumatized.) He looked ferocious and intent upon entering my bedroom and killing me. Of course, I ran out of my room and screamed bloody murder.



My father came running to my aid, prepared to shoot a peeping Tom outside my window. He pulled the blind and laughed. Apparently, it wasn't all that big of a deal, but it was to me. Especially since I was probably having one of my 'someone's trying to kill me and I must hide in an air vent' dream. Clearly, the squirrel was sent by one of the Russian spies who needed to extract the microchip from under my skin.

So, my dad went outside, pulled out the garden hose, sprayed it at my bedroom window, and the squirrel managed to get himself out and scurry off.

All seemed well, but I was still paranoid. 20 minutes later, I peep outside my window again and I see the squirrel climbed back up the storm drain and is running full speed towards my window again. I snap this photo and go call help again.

This time the little fucker managed to squeeze himself here:

Well, I told him that he puts the lotion in the basket or he gets the hose again. He never came back.