Jovitalk - Bon Jovi Fan Community

I just found this on Google, and found it really funny:

True Story: I was reading alt.religion.kibology today and
trying to decide which post to follow up to first. Hit by
a sudden wave of ennui I decided not to bother and instead
went into the kitchen to get some food. I opened a cabinet
up, and accidently knocked a cannister of raisins onto the
floor.

As I picked up all the raisins, a squirrel suddenly ran in
to the kitchen through the open back door.

It looked at me and then ran into a corner of the kitchen,
frantically looking for an exit. It began to run from one
corner to the other corners (somewhat moronically, running
right past the door it came in. I speculate that this was
not in fact the Albert Einstein of squirrels.)

Let me describe the squirrel: it was very tiny, with a big
bushy tail. If it had had large, cute eyes, it would have
been a Disney squirrel. But instead this squirrel had tiny
eyes of pure evil.

I tried to herd it back out the open door using my English
sheepdog instincts (since I am English, after all -- well,
I was born there, anyway). But this squirrel did not seem
to be able to notice the door (perhaps because it had poor
peripheral vision, but that would be odd, since squirrels'
eyes are on opposite sides of their cute fuzzy heads). It
just repeated its pattern of running around the corners of
the room.

Then, I tried to shoo it out, with my hands, being careful
to not get bit by it, SINCE I DON'T WANT TO DIE OF RABIES.
That didn't work. The shooing, I mean. It started to try
to stare me down. It also made noises. (I was heretofore
ignorant of the fact that squirrels were capable of making
any sound at all.) It was a very hard to describe sort of
choking noise -- in some ways similar to a dog's bark, but
softer and more phlegmy-sounding. It is no wonder English
does not have a simple word for this sound, like "woof" or
"meow," because it transcends a simple naming. ("And then
Mr. Squirrel phlegmed, 'Good night, little boys and girls.
I will haunt you in your dreams.'")

I threw some raisins at it, hoping to make a trail that it
would follow to the door. It did not seem to care for the
raisins; in fact, it just looked at me in terror. Lessons
for all of us: squirrels DESPISE raisins.

At one point it stopped under the table, and looked around
and seemed to realize its pathetic state. So it made this
terribly pitiful high-pitched screaming sound: Eeeeeeeeee!
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Perhaps it hoped to summon other
squirrels to its aid. This noise terrified me, most of all
because it sounded like the alert signal used by podpeople
in a recent "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" remake.

Emboldened, I picked up a straw basket and tried to use it
to carry out the squirrel. I do not fully recommend using
this technique should something similar happen to you; the
squirrel did cling on to the basket, shaking and twisting,
so I walked towards the door, but just then it became very
afraid, and it leaped towards me, and it clawed up my left
hand a little. Then it fell to the floor, and ran past me
back to its favorite corner of the kitchen.

My cousin Mark, who was out back swimming, saw the strange
shape and called out, "What the hell was that?"

"Squirrel from hell! A really stupid one!" I called back.

"Did it bite you?" he wanted to know, but he lost interest
when I yelled that it only scratched me.

I thought about ignoring it, and letting it find a way out
on its own. But it was too scared, and I have no patience
for waiting.

I used a second basket and manged to scoop the squirrel up
into the first basket. I ran towards the door, and as the
squirrel was about to claw me a second time, I had to toss
it on to the back porch. The squirrel seemed dazed but it
was able to scamper off into the wilds.

At this point, I picture it becoming a chief squirrel, and
it will scare its children with stories of the evil basket
monster and raisin-throwing big things who live in the big
tree of endless corners. It may get promoted by the chief
council to flying squirrel.

I cleaned the scratches. But I am a little worried that I
will get rabies anyway, and I wanted to document the whole
incident so that in the future, when you notice an unfunny
incoherent post of mine you can think about rabies-induced
dementia and perhaps learn to just leave squirrels alone.