I was lounging out on my deck knitting an Afghan blanket with a bowl of peanuts at my side, the honey roasted sort of course. There was an incident, this is a re-enactment:
My friend Mr. Rocky J. (a neighborhood black tailed squirrel) broached my comfort zone as I knit one pearl two. He dawdled toward me along the deck railing alike Nadia Comaneci gracing a balance beam. I'd noticed his chunky cheeks were enlarged by of a pair of chestnuts.
Assumably this particular rodent scofflaw had presumed he could grab my nuts at his leisure whenever the mood should strike him. Well I returned favor via jumping up and grabbing his set of nuts! I was quite impressed with the squeezability by the way, it must be ripe season. Anyway, the little furry tailed rat clucked like a chicken and hoisted himself toward me and then bit me. I in turn told him to cluck himself and I bit him back. Ironically he tasted like chicken, rabid chicken, and acted like one too as he awkwardly jounced away.
I stand the mighty victor and ... OMG! He has a family! An entire family of black tailed rabid squirrels that cluck like chickens! They're militaristically charging toward me like, well, like a family of disenfranchised rabid black tailed squirrels that cluck like chickens that are militaristically charging toward me! "OMG my nuts" I thought as I received one prickly rabid incision after another. Seconds later they all keeled over, flat on their backs as if fatally shot, but there were no shots fired.
Pondering a spell I stumbled onto a realization. I'd drank like a fraternity brother on spring break last night, that must be it. Finally my adolescent self-absorbed indulgences and alcohol laced blood stream have proved to be fruitful. I'd be all the wiser to keep myself chock full o' alcohol latent potables from here forth, just in case I'm savagely attacked by a family of disenfranchised rabid black tailed squirrels that cluck like chickens again.