Squirrels Gone Wild

I hail from a faraway land of mystical renown, a place where the rivers are routinely rendered ablaze, where the rust is as abundant as the decline of industry, a place known only as Ohio, which is unique in that it is one of the only four letter words I can think of which has an amazing three syllables. So, naturally, moving to Connecticut for school was bound to be something of an adjustment for me. I must admit, it's pretty similar here, with one notable exception: the native wildlife. In Ohio, we have these merry, small little creatures which live in your backyard, eat acorns, and scurry hilariously away whenever you come within twenty feet of them. Squirrels. Here in New Haven, well, that is a different story altogether. Here, the squirrels are roughly the same size as a wolverine, and they are approximately twice as ferocious. Also, they are extremely common. Sometimes, you can stand in place and look straight ahead at a small patch of grass and see at least a dozen of these mutated tree rats frolicking in a carefree manner which cleverly conceals the more sinister ulterior motives of these woodland monsters. I do not trust these squirrels. The squirrels back home are brown and small, and afraid of people. Here, they are gray, they are large, and they have walked over my foot when I was sitting on a park bench. True fact. I was sitting on a bench, minding my business, and one of these forty pound behemoth squirrels scampered over my besandaled foot, shooting me a mischievous look which effectively dared me to do something about it. At this point, as you can probably imagine, I soiled myself profusely and ran weeping into the relative safety of Vanderbilt. The rest of that day is foggy in my memory; all I can say with certainty is that I awoke the next day on the middle of my common room floor covered in Easy Mac Cheese Powder and shaking uncontrollably. These squirrels spook me to no end. I have considered going squirrel fishing, but I imagine that would be like fishing for a great white shark. I've seen Jaws...no way am I going to be dragged around Old Campus and nearly eaten several times by an ornery squirrel, only narrowly escaping with my life by shoving a spare oxygen tank into its gaping mouth and blasting it with the final shot of my rifle as my ageless fishing schooner sinks to the bottom of the Atlantic. All I know is that I'm outnumbered by a motivated enemy with detailed innate knowledge of this environment. Also, they are considerably more intelligent, but that is a different matter altogether. I can only imagine how terrifyingly effective these beasts will become once the snowfall becomes heavy and they are given the cloak of nighttime darkness with which to operate. I have no idea how to conclude, but it is possible this will be the final article I write, as I do not expect to survive the week in such a hostile environment.