Squirrel murder. I wants it.

I stayed awake quite a long while last night doing writerly things.  I felt practically virtuous as I ascended the stairs to my room and snuggled in with my honey.

And then the damned squirrels started their constant scratching, and I instantly felt the hottest bloom of desire to cause murder and mayhem that I have ever known.

Let me explain.  We live in an old house on the edge of this over-grown garden, and this old house has a flat roof across the back, created to allow the former attic to become living space sometime in the 1960s.  The previous owner fancied himself Bob Villa (he was really Tim Taylor), and incorrectly installed a flat roof after a hurricane.  His faulty installation led to a costly replacement of the roof soon after we took occupancy, but also caused a great deal of wood rot.  We couldn’t afford to address the rot right away.  The squirrels saw their opportunity.  They now seem to have built condos over our bedroom and are expanding into the hallway and bathroom.  There’s an actual claw mark in the second bedroom ceiling.

There is now a hole in the fascia board RIGHT OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW.  They wave their furry tails in contempt as they parade in and out.

Every morning begins before dawn with one of us whacking at the ceiling with whatever we can to scare the fuckers off.  (I warned you that I don’t write for children, didn’t I?)

Okay, so we know we have to get rid of them and repair the fascia board.  For the moment, I’m interested in simply driving them out into the cold.  Then I swear I’ll save money like a grown-up and have a repair crew come out to fix the fascia board.

But for now, I want the fuckers to suffer.  I want their ears to bleed, and their sexual organs to wither up and fall off.

What I want to know is this:  do I turn the stun gun all the way up before attaching it to the outside of my window, and should I wear camo and cover myself in fox urine when I do it?

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About Sarah Familar-Ragsdale

Sarah Familar-Ragsdale is a writer and poet, a shameless multi-tasker, and a lover of good wine, lyrical prose, foot rubs, adrenaline rushes, and sweet tea. She can't remember a time when she didn't want to be a writer, and some of her favorite childhood memories involve an old IBM typewriter and stacks of onionskin paper. Her professional life has followed a meandering path - she has been a licensed Charleston tour guide, a metaphysical bookstore owner, and a minister to an eclectic spiritual community. These days, when she isn't trying to wrap up her on-going novel projects or making attempts to seduce the muses of poetry, she follows her other great soul calling as a certified Life Coach and spiritual mentor. Sarah lives at the edge of an under-tended garden in Charleston, SC with the love of her life and their two fur-children, Chaucer and Stella Maris. To find out more about Sarah's Life Coaching services, visit ElementalLifeCoach.com.
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4 Responses to Squirrel murder. I wants it.

  1. The Honey Beeeee says:

    If you wear the fox urine, there will be no more snuggling with the honey…just sayin’. Love you!

  2. Well, that settles that, then. Ultrasonic sound it is!

  3. cheeseshoes says:

    Skip the fox urine. It will bring it’s own problems. I would put chicken wire up there so they walk on it. THEN ZAP ’em :))

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