I found this on a small game forum, thought you guys might like to read it:
THE SQUIRREL OF DEATH!!
I had been banging around the roads of east Texas on my motorcycle
and as I headed back into Dallas, I found myself in very heavy,
high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I
commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a
big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can
accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them
before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly
too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car
that I was not even aware was there! Two bad decisions and insufficient
situational awareness...all within seconds. Time to get off the
freeway. I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well,
headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home.
As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my
full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through
the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain
that "edge" so frequently required when riding, little did I suspect...
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 can take care of themselves! Inches before impact, the
squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and
facing the 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!" as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the 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 twenty of his little buddies along
for the attack. Snarling,
hissing, an tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I
was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summe 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 maybe 25mph
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 and managed to
snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the
left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as 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 ****ed-off squirrel.
This was an evil 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
square 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 as 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, and
only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph 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 affect
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 a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he
came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the
faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my
screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on
the squirrel however. The rpm's on The Dragon maxed out (I was not
concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.
Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed
in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove,
roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy
squirrel's tail sticking out his 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 the 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 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 directional 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 at a busy cross
street. I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I
really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not
seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment.
One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had
been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the
patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot
shotgun on the police cruiser. 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
swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the
patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and
shaking his little fist at me.... That is one dangerous squirrel. And now
he has a patrol car... I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal,
made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood. As for my
easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80 mph cars
and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel
of death...I'll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.
