I'm pretty sure it would have pissed off the neighbors if I'd used the shotgun, although the satisfaction of dropping them off a branch is hard to beat. Crackling balls and my slingshot were never a consideration because of the fire danger, which was a bit of a shame because I am a Damn Good Shot after all the practice I had in North Carolina.
I only wonder what the trash people are going to think once they realize that each dead squirrel is individually bagged and (by default thanks to the weather) frozen.
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oddharmonic- Melissa, starry-eyed soy-lovin' Expatriated Zulu
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Did you read my story about the attack squirrel I posted in my journal? Funny stuff.
That attack squirrel story was freaky. The idea of them jumping at motorcyclists skeeves me out. I liked the ending, though.
Was the mascot head air-conditioned or was that just a rumor?
I turned down the opportunity to be Gladys in my sophomore year job at ADP, having been Tippy the SteakOut cow the prior summer, and not liking it very much. Felt like I was baking from the inside, like a Ron Popeil product being observed whilst cooking (set it and forget it, my ass - it's foodertainment!)
Would you mind taking exact measurements of the /dev/fridge's badge for me so I can bring its new tag with me next time I'm down that way?
A: One squirrel in ten bags.
Good shootin!