A Suicidal Squirrel's Guide to Life

A blog about all sorts of things. And squirrel stories. Sometimes.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Part IV: The Birdsquirrel of Alcatraz

Once upon a time

Suicidal Squirrel

(insert theme music)

was writing a treatise on the implausibility of life as a squirrel

and the difficulties of assuring a truly meaningful life

by accomplishing a truly unusual death,

when a bird flew over
and pooped

on his head.

As he looked up,

cursing the fact that birds can do that and that

there's really absolutely nothing that a squirrel can do about it,

he noticed another bird sitting on a power line.

And the little squirrel

light bulb kinda sorta

flashed inside his brain.

So he climbed the pole

(an easy feat for

our squirrelly little friend)

and struck up a conversation with the bird about

the safety of power lines.

The bird pretty much ignored him.

When he started getting all loud and crazy squirrelly-like,

the little bird just kind of hummed a tune about finding

a happy place and

going to a happy place and being

in a happy place.

And then, in a fit of pique,

our SLF let forth a shrill squirrelly shriek

of fatuous frustration

and leapt from the power line to

splat himself against the cold, hard, unyielding earth.

Unfortunately for him,

squirrels are very lightweight creatures,

and physics just wouldn't let him die so easily.

It still didn't feel very good, though.


His difficulties, however, were espied by a more helpful

(I guess you could call it helpful)


The owl hooted down at him and hocked up something really nasty

and grey and furry looking and said,

"I say, might I be of service, old chap?"

(It was an English owl, of course.)


suicidal squirrels

(theme music)

have some instincts,

so our SLF froze exactly where he was

and wet himself.

Owls are scary.

"Oh, come now, sir, I've already had my elevenses today

(as you see there - don't step in that),

and you don't look to be particularly appetizing anyway,

especially not after that little display.

I do, however, have a thought which might be of

some interest to you."

So our SLF clambered back up and listened raptly

as the owl whuffled into his ear.

(Don't ask how he got his ears back after the Winnebago fiasco. That's a truly disturbing tale.)

Then the owl flew away,


Suicidal Squirrel

(theme music)

bent over

took a deep breath

crossed his squirrelly little fingers

opened his squirrelly little mouth

and bit down hard on the power line.

That more than tingled.



Frying squirrel smells nasty.

Frying squirrel doesn't feel so great either.

Frying sqirrel quickly becomes flying frying squirrel.

And for a very



brief moment,

our little squirrelly pal had sanity.

Electroshock therapy will do that for you.

Then he hit the ground again.


He was very fuzzy now.

And he walked funny.

And there was the smoke.

And that smell.

And the other squirrels looked at him all funny like.

Electroshock therapy will do that for you.

And then he realized that the smoke was from the fire

that was consuming his tail.


So he ran

(lurched fast really - electroshock therapy will do that for you, too)

to the nearest water source and put himself out.

The birds were very disturbed by this.

So, once he was

out of their birdbath,

they pooped on his head


And the other squirrels
looked at him all funny like.

And he muttered

and fumed

(in a really stinky gross sort of way)

and plotted

and schemed

and drew some pretty disturbing diagrams

(imagine Rube Goldberg as a squirrel with a death wish)








Will our hapless hero achieve his goal?

Will death become our SLF?

Only the Shadow knows




Oh yeah.

You're really sorry you ever said you liked these stories.

This is what comes of humoring people.


  • At 8:25 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I want to hear about the squirrel going somewhere tropical. Or about albino squirrels in North Carolina. Woo! I love me some suicidal squirrel!


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