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It’s a tragic story. A community up in arms, frightened for their children, as one small body after another turns up. Flattened like pancakes. Stiff, furry tails sticking straight up in the air, a grim marker of a senseless death. You see them every day, littering the streets & sidewalks, while mothers scurry past shielding the eyes of the innocent children in tow, hoping to protect them from such a horrific sight. Along the grassy boulevards, little furry sentinels keep watch, like an honour guard to their fallen comrades. As my heart breaks for their numerous losses, so too, does my foot brake to ensure I don’t become an unwitting participant in this genocide. With my weapon of mass destruction. Let’s face it, they don’t stand a chance against my Expedition. Frikkin’ squirrels.

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