Like most other nights, I went to bed between 1230 and 100. Thankfully, I fell asleep instantly. But now it’s 335 and I’m groggily awake. Something disrupted my slumber by grazing across my bald head. Being the paranoid little girl I become at night or in the dark, I instantly thought it was a spider. In my mind I was Miss Muffet and the spider had come to frighten me away. Luckily, I didn’t scream.
Staying true to my character, I bolted from my tuffet and pawed at the lights. I figured that way I could at least see my attacker. That’s when I saw the beady eyes pop out from beneath my pillow, staring at me like an attack could happen any minute. Then I saw an elongated, furry snout. I relaxed a little knowing it wasn’t some demonic spider coming to take away my curds and whey. Surely a mouse (or rat) is far less harmful than any spider.
I slowly edged back toward my bed, careful not to make sudden moves so the eyes didn’t lunge for my jugular. I moved one pillow, and another. Then, I saw a furry tail; I realized I might be in serious trouble. Instantly, I wished this mysterious assassin was a spider. At least with the lights on, I could easily track down and squash a spider. That’s just how I roll when evil trespasses in my house.
Instantly the thousands of voices in my head started guessing what it was and playing out all these doomsday scenarios; each resulted in my death. Trying to quiet all the internal noise, I grabbed a pillow. I figured it was the best thing to protect me should this deadly intruder try to attack. I moved another pillow and realized the rodent was hiding between my bed and the wall. Of course. What better place to lay in waiting for a surprise attack?
Still holding the pillow, I grabbed the bottle of lube from the floor and flung it at Lucifer. I saw fur bounce around the room and violently affix itself to the bedroom doorknob. Again, I wished it was just a stupid cottage cheese-obsessed arachnid. Instead, it was a squirrel doped up on steroids, to better assist him with ending my life.
After he swing from the knob a few times, Rocky headed back to the bed. I jumped back and grabbed another pillow because everyone knows how much of a weapon those are. Even though he wasn’t foaming at the mouth, I instantly assumed Rocky’s deadliest weapon might be his bite. I figured I should definitely keep my distance because I’m rabid enough.
So my mind begin to formulate the best way to resolve the situation so both of us could live. That’s when it hit me that Rabid Rocky probably put the hole in my ceiling. That’s when I realized I should usher him (or her, killers can be girls too you know) back to the bathroom and lock him there all night. So, I tried rustling the pillows to spook him but had no luck. The adrenaline stopped pumping and I realized how tired I was. All I could think of was sleep. So, I did what any self-respecting male would do. I tucked my tail between my legs and gave up. Rocky vs Miss Muffet would not end in a tie.
I disconnected my phone (posted on Facebook, of course) and shut all the doors to seclude the squirrel in the bedroom. I saw the spare bed and decided maybe I should just sleep there; I went into the room and set the alarm. Before I threw all the stuffed animals in the floor, I realized the neighbor’s TV was too loud and I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Like some undead monster in search of brains, I slowly staggered to the living room and flopped into the recliner. A tail grazed me and I almost screamed again. I thought Rocky had found me and began to expect a bloody battle to the end. The cat meowed; I’m sure it was more of a laugh.
I was almost asleep when I heard this horrible noise coming from the bedroom. I got up and cracked the bedroom door enough to switch on the light. Parts of the door leading to the bathroom were chewed. The squirrel was trying to eat his way into the bathroom. I shut the bedroom door tightly so the squirrel couldn’t escape and then walked around and opened the bathroom door.
Now that Rocky is in the bathroom, I’ve realized it wasn’t the best idea. For starters, I think I scared him so bad that he pissed on my bed. Secondly, now I have to figure out how to get in to shower in the morning before work. Last, he isn’t going to fix the hole in the ceiling. So, now I don’t know what to do.
I thought about throwing the cat in the bathroom and seeing who comes out victorious. But if Rocky really is rabid, I don’t want to subject the cat to that. Or what if the little squirrel realizes he is fighting for his life and musters enough gusto to slay Goliath? How could I live with myself? The most probable scenario doesn’t sound good either. Xerxes makes Daddy proud by besting the foe I could not. There would be way too much blood and I don’t feel like wrestling Rocky from the cat.
Besides, all I want to do is sleep. I guess, at this point, I can only hope the squirrel calms down. Maybe then I can domesticate him. I already have picked out a name. Do you think Bullwinkle will miss him too much?
*edited from original post of 1.21.10*