You want to know how I feel about that fucking squirrel, the one that hurls itself at my screen, craps on my deck table and eats my plants?
The same way Ahab felt about the whale.
I’m a nice person. Really, I am. Except for this fucking squirrel, which I would cheerfully rip out its throat with my teeth. However, since they carry rabies, I’ll have to come up with something else.
I was visiting one of my brothers yesterday when he referred to “the S-Qs.”
“What’s that?” I said.
“We spell it out. If we say S-Q-U-I-R-R-E-L-S, the dog goes wild.” My brother then proceeded to tell me how much he hates “those fucking squirrels,” how they try to eat all the bird seed, and how much he loves to see his dog go after them.