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Subject: Squirrel story Dear SDL,
So, family friends came upon your site and contacted me in near
hysteria, as I have been seeking a self-help group of your nature for
nearly six years now. Growing up in Indiana, I had too much of squirrels
as a kid. The voracious little monsters used to attack birds at my
grandmother's feeder — so much so that my grandma taught herself to use
a pellet gun and now helps contribute to the demise of roughly 75 of the
fluffy-tailed bastards a year.
I, however, had a most horrifying experience with a squirrel on
September 19, 1999. During a cross country race on campus my
freshman year, I headed into the last mile roughly neck and neck with
another runner, rounding a lake on a densely wooded path. Up ahead of us
sat the fattest, ugliest mutant rat (read: Squirrel) there ever
was. Now, most of these stupid creatures stare at you as you approach
and when within striking distance, finally decide to move along (much
like pigeons and spiders, my other nemesis). This creature feigned going
right and made a last second decision to go left, turning 180 and
darting a little too slowly across my path — meeting the bottom of my
spiked cross country cleat in the middle of the trail. It let out the
most hideous shriek as I surely crushed its neck or whatever internal
organs those things have and flipped around for a few brief moments
before lying there a twitching waste of fur. I literally stopped
running, horrified at what had just happened. I managed to finish the
race (and win!) before quietly excusing myself from post-race
festivities.
Later that evening I met with my best friend Megan for dinner where I
confessed what had happened that morning. Although I had never liked the
damn things, I felt horrible for killing one. My friend Megan, seeing my
pain, laughed hysterically at me. Later that evening she proceeded to
e-mail about 50 friends of mine (including family) and tell them about
what had happened.
For the next SIX MONTHS I received nothing but squirrel
paraphernalia. Stuffed squirrels, squirrel candy, bags of nuts, squirrel
knick knacks... you name it, I received it. My roommate and I woke up
one morning to find 50 page-sized posters of squirrels taped to the
outside of our dorm window looking in. People called my room and made
chattering noises at 6am before hanging up. Someone took out an e-mail
account titled squeakysquirrel@hotmail.com and proceeded to 'haunt' me
for weeks on end. My friend's dad bought a real squirrel tail and left
it hidden under one of my sneakers. The worst, however, was being
ATTACKED by a squirrel not even 3 weeks after the incident on an outing
with friends. The bastard jumped up on my leg as it fled traffic,
scratching me through my pants.
Needless to say, I quickly lost any guilt I felt for that pathetic piece
of nut-eating meat. My grandma has since taught me how to shoot
squirrels and those that don't die on the first shot we put in a garbage
can half-full of water to die a slow, miserable death. They are indeed
the fluffy-tailed tree-rats of the world.
So, I appreciate your website, your cause, your vision. We must remain
on guard, be diligent and steadfast. I am sure once the rest of my
friends catch wind of your website, you will see a sharp spike in the
number of shirts you sell. Therefore, I will resist the urge to buy one
this minute as I know many will be coming to me in the next few
months. Thank you for your work. You give hope to squirrel-haters like
myself that we can still save society from this evil, evil plague.
— John in Boston
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