. . . SQUIRREL DANCING . . .
. . . I was walking across campus.
This was in my tender days of education.
Due to my poetic bent, I enrolled in University XYZ's Department of Advanced Procreative Weapons-basically, these were doomsday weapons that could take care of themselves, form true nuclear families, and generally carry on the spark of intelligence once they wiped us gross, babbling humans out to the last man, woman, and child. I specialized in going goo-goo ga-ga to the cute little Omnibomb babies in the ballistic nursery.
As I was saying, I was walking across campus.
I was lost in ecstatic thoughts of how my labors would contribute to the New Era of True Nuclear Families.
I was so caught up, I didn't even notice the squirrel rushing towards me at speed.
Something feinted left, then right.
I came to my senses. I startled. I feinted left, then right.
The squirrel and I were dancing this way and that, not sure how to get past one another.
This was not a situation I had anticipated. Yes, I had long observed how the squirrels were losing their fear of the Final Meats People-My Generation-but I assumed this boldness was strictly for snacky purposes. My Generation was given to feeding the squirrels.
But here was a squirrel whose boldness extended to dancing me up even as I was on my way to ballistic nursery duty.
Am I solely to blame for the hip twirling passion that obtained within my body that fateful day?
Will you call me the Great Unraveller when it was the Procreative Weapons who wound their plans and schemes so tightly that the least deviation brought it all tumbling down?
Not one of the potent farseeing Omnibomb Supervisory Clusterminds figured on the spontaneous dance crew chemistry sparking off between me and that oh-so-bold squirrel, which resulted in my lateness, which resulted in an Omnibomb baby not getting its necessary tender loving care, which ignited a temper tantrum chain of explosions, which led to the downfall of the Procreative Weapons . . .
. . . and here I dance forever in Heaven with my sparky squirrel partner, our dance crew chemistry generating a force field no Reality Regime may pierce, especially the Asshole Realities of True Nuclear Families . . .
. . .and this Heaven is better than what I deserved, considering the Omnibomb path I was on . . .
. . . 'til the day I was saved by a squirrel . . .
