posted on September 20, 2004 09:22:38 PM new
If you can read this without laughing & images burning in your brain, you're either dead or on Prozac.
--------------------
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential
neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect...
I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and
slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out
from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a
squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it
encountered the car.
I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid
it - it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on
a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me.
I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear.
Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on
his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his
little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he
screamed and leapt!
I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Bonzai!" or maybe,"Die you
gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of
spectacular...as he shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted
me squarely in the chest.
Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he
brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing
and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed
only in a light t-shirt,summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a
cause for concern.
This furry little tornado was doing some damage! Picture a large man on a
huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather
gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in
the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing...
I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses,I finally managed
to snag his tail.
With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike,
almost running into the right curb I recoiled from the throw. That should
have done it.
The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The
squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone
on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been
the wiser.
But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary pissed-off
squirrel.
This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and,with
the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an
amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather
anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take
my left glove with him!
The situation was not improved. Not improved at all.
His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.
I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw,
only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking
back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the
throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one
result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very,
very good at it. The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement.
The squirrel screamed in anger The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed
in...well ...I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in
jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn-t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove,
and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet
residential street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back.
The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden
acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and
try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his
own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree,
house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the
throttle ... my brain was just simply overloaded.
I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the
massive power of the big cruiser. About this time the squirrel decided that
I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he
is an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my
neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed
partway, he began hissing in my face.
I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity.It had little effect on the
squirrel, however.
The RPMs on The Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting
at the moment) so her front end started to drop. Now picture a large man on
a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly-torn
t-shirt,wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still
on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly
closed full-face helmet.
By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the
upper hand ...
I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung
him to the left as hard as I could.
This time it worked ... sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of ... so to speak.
Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on
a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some
paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed
in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one
leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody
murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade
directly into your police car.
I heard screams They weren't mine... I managed to get the big motorcycle
under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground.
I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke
at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to fess up
(and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really.
Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the
slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the
doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open.
The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into
somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car.
The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street and
was aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.
So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the
professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing.The other?
Well,I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery
from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back
window, shaking his little fist at me, shooting me the finger .. That is
one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car.
A somewhat shredded patrol car ... but it was all his.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn
off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood.
I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And some Band-Aids
Hey, hey Ho, ho Kerry - sign the 1-8-0
"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The person who has nothing for which he is willing
to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."
--John Stuart Mill
posted on September 20, 2004 10:21:50 PM new
Ahhhh, typical irrelivant diatribe from the liperal intellectual known as crowfart. Must be feeling defensive.
Hey, hey Ho, ho Kerry - sign the 1-8-0
"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The person who has nothing for which he is willing
to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."
--John Stuart Mill
posted on September 20, 2004 10:48:50 PM new
ROFL! Good one, Bear.
Brought to mind one of my favorite novelty songs, by Ray Stevens:
The Mississippi Squirrel Revival
Well, when I was a kid I'd take a trip every summer down the Mississippi
To visit my granny in her antebellum world
I'd run barefooted all day long climbin' trees free as a song
And one day I happened to catch myself a squirrel
Well, I stuffed him down in an old shoe box, punched a couple of holes in the top
And when Sunday came I snuck him into Church
I was sittin' way back in the very last pew showin' him to my good buddy Hugh
When that squirrel got loose and went totally berserk
Well, what happened next is hard to tell
Some thought it was heaven others thought it was hell
But the fact that something was among us was plain to see
As the choir sang "I Surrender All" the squirrel ran up Harv Newlan's coveralls
Harv leaped to his feet and said, "Somethin's got a hold on me", Yeow!
Chorus
The day the squirrel went berserk
In the First Self-Righteous Church
In the sleepy little town of Pascagoula
It was a fight for survival that broke out in revival
They were jumpin' pews and shoutin' Hallelujah!
Well, Harv hit the aisles dancin' and a screamin'
Some thought he had religion others thought he had a demon
And Harv thought he had a weed eater loose in his Fruit-Of-The-Looms
He fell to his knees to plead and beg and the squirrel ran out of his britches leg
Unobserved to the other side of the room
All the way down to the amen pew where sat Sister Bertha better-than-you
Who'd been watchin' all the commotion with sadistic glee
But you should've seen the look in her eyes
When that squirrel jumped her garters and crossed her thighs
She jumped to her feet and said "Lord have mercy on me"
As the squirrel made laps inside her dress
She began to cry and then to confess to sins that would make a sailor blush with shame
She told of gossip and church dissension but the thing that got the most attention
Was when she talked about her love life and then she started naming names
Chorus
The day the squirrel went berserk
In the First Self-Righteous Church
In that sleepy little town of Pascagoula
It was a fight for survival that broke out in revival
They were jumpin' pews and shoutin' Hallelujah!
Well seven deacons and the pastor got saved,
Twenty-five thousand dollars was raised and fifty volunteered
For missions in the Congo on the spot
And even without an invitation there were at least five hundred rededications
And we all got baptized whether we needed it or not
Now you've heard the bible story I guess
How he parted the waters for Moses to pass
Oh the miracles God has wrought in this old world
But the one I'll remember 'til my dyin' day
Is how he put that Church back on the narrow way
With a half crazed Mississippi squirrel
Chorus
The day the squirrel went berserk
In the First Self-Righteous Church
In the sleepy little town of Pascagoula
It was a fight for survival that broke out in revival
They was jumpin' pews and shoutin' Hallelujah!
____________________
"Bad temper is its own scourge. Few things are more bitter than to feel bitter. A man's venom poisons himself more than his victim." --Charles Buxton
