If I don't survive the night....

I am writing this blogpost from my actual home- not my home-at-school home, but my house-where-I-grew-up home. I live up on the second floor, and the window to my room overlooks a large oak tree. Said oak tree is home to some of the most sadistic squirrels I have ever come in contact with. I'm not quite sure what they have against me, but I have been the target of their fiendish plans for far too many years.

Now I know that I may not be the world's most unbiased observer. I dislike animals in most shapes and forms (except the stuffed, cuddly kind- those are fun). But, again I stress, these squirrels are something else. They have been known to lob acorns at unsuspecting passersby. "But," you say, "it is an oak tree. Acorns fall out of oak trees. You cannot blame the squirrels." Ah, dear friend in my head, that is where you are wrong. Because, I know, acorns do not fall out of trees at angles and jet-speed-like propulsions leaving bruises on your head.

I had hoped that the squirrels would have joined the geese in migration, or at least would grant me a reprieve for the holidays but I seem to be out of luck. As I settled into my bed with a new MST3K, I was terrified to hear one of their loudest attacks as of yet. The unholy demons were not just unleashing a firestorm of acorns at my windows, they seemed to be assembling an artillery on the siding with their little skittering talons. Crouching under my most intimidating hat, I poked my head out of the curtains to peer out the window, but alas, their camoflauge was too keen, and I couldn't see a single critter.

So, fearing for my life, I moved onto the only next logical plan of action. I called my dad. This is not the first time my father has had to save me from small, woodland creatures, and I'm sure it won't be the last. He gamely laced up his boots, zipped up his coat, and ventured out into the hailstorm of acorns and squirrel-ish fury. Only to find, nothing. Nothing at all. Of course, the moment he stepped out the door, the noise stopped. So, not only am I in danger of losing my life to these squirrels tonight, my sanity is now in question.

I suppose it is up to me now. It will be a long night of terror, artillery-fire, prayer, and the darkness that dwells in the souls of men *ahem* squirrels. Wish me god-speed, faithful readers, that I may see the morn, and that it may be free of the furry communist devils (acorns from each according to his ability, acorns to each according to his need? I think not!).