...i am turning into a squirrel...

A squirrel dying in front of your house may be more relevant to your interests right now than people dying in Africa. – Mark Zuckerberg

I am turning into a squirrel.  I mean I turned into a squirrel.  I am a fucking squirrel.  I met a wizard on craigslist and he turned me into a squirrel.  He posted an ad saying he could turn humans into squirrels and I decided to check into the validity of his claim.  I don’t know why I decided to not inherently trust a wizard on craigslist, but now I am a squirrel.

Upon becoming a squirrel I immediately headed for my house jumping tall thing to tall thing.  The good things about becoming a squirrel were obvious.  I could move at methamphetamine speed.  I cover distances in fast forward. What looks like a time-lapse video to you is me taking a leisurely pace.  I can climb really quickly now.  Up a tree, down a tree, up a tree, up another tree and so on.  And even if I suck at climbing I can fall from great distances.  I am clumsy so I mostly fell on the way home.  Why didn’t I ask the wizard to make me a flying squirrel so I could have gotten home quicker.  Note to self…flying squirrels don’t fly they only float…they are actually floating squirrels…

I chose to cross the golden gate bridge because it has a pedestrian path.  An eight year old girl tried to feed me some popcorn and when I tried to say thank you it came out like a virus filled hiss and her dad tried to step on me.  

I snuck onto a ferry because my crunchy toes were tired.  I wanted to order beer but opted instead for stale soda drips outside the full trash cans.  I met an adventurous rat named Sck-kck-sku who read tabloids and gossiped about tawdry pigeon sex.

[scruffle scruffle sktsk sktsk scruffle]

When I finally made it home my dogs hated me.  I went into my backyard and climbed for the bird feeder, remembering that the local fat squirrels in my neighborhood enjoyed eating from it.  I then remembered I had bought a squirrel proof bird feeder because I did not like the squirrels in my backyard.  I still don’t like the squirrels in my backyard.  I always thought they were talking shit to me and my dogs, and it turns out they were.  They call me the potbellied bad breath bigfoot and they call my dogs beaver face and fart ears.  I think these are childish insults, but it turns out they are squirrelish.  In squirrel chirp the more PG you make your insults the more dirty they are perceived.  The squirrel who hangs from the lemon tree is like a tiny Andrew Dice Clay only his insults contain fairy tale and bible quotes.  He called me a puss in boots.  He told me they wouldn’t let me onto Noah’s Ark and it stung a bit.  

[scratching sound, hissing sound, scratching hiss scruffling sound, skritch]

I slept in the yard corner and an opossum ran up on me.  Opossums are hideous trash weasel eels.  They have teeth that drool and little weinery tails that drag dead like snakeskin behind their anus.  I low key wanted to befriend the possum, but it saw me, salivated, and then hissed like some goblin dragon.  That was not an awesome possum.

I went back to the wizard last week and he didn’t recognize me.  I tried to bite his curly slippers, but he swiftkicked me to a rockpile and then put on some pumas and went for a jog. 

I itch all over now and it sucks because I have these stupid tiny arms.  To itch myself I have to acrobatically contort and tooth all over my skin and fur.  I’ve taken to using nut oils to calm my inflammations but my hyper digestives then kick in and I just want to eat and lick myself.  I decided if I was going to be performing such acts I might as well start a squirrly onlyfan channel.

Turns out there is no onlyfans for squirrels.  You can use the human one if you have a credit card.  I no longer have one because that wizard stole it.  There is no squirrel onlyfans, but there is squirrel tinder and it is called NUT.  I am spending more and more time on squirrel 4CHAN, it is called 8CORN, and is filled with chipmunk conspiracies and lonely angry raccoon ramblings.  I am convinced now that the chipmunk communications are secretly managed by Siberian prairie dogs.  Chipmunks are actually squirrels but they try to pretend they are not.  I’ve yet to meet a chipmunk in my neighborhood.  

[ststsk stkskt sktsktksk tsksktsk scruffle stsktsk]

I am in my work study, hiding at night between four volumes of viking manga, and a puzzle of mexican sugar skulls I bought four christmases ago.  I am sneaking dried mango to the puzzle corner when my ladyfriend and dogs go to sleep.  Even as a squirrel I am polite enough to throw away my trash.  I am sleeping in a toilet paper tube.   

I started a chat board looking for solutions to wizard spells.  A warlock in a local river cabin offered to assist but he wanted half of my soul in return, and to be paid the other half of his labor in his homemade crypto called SPEL.  I tried explaining to him that the fees to convert from local nut to blockchain are a hindrance, and he sent me a 90 page whitepaper and a link to some NFTs he made on opensea and told me to yolo and invest. 

I am friends with a new rat now from my neighborhood.  His name is Harold and he knows the best spots in my basement to chew cardboard and pee.  He had a good sense of humor about me killing most of his family last winter though I am careful to not let him know where I currently sleep lest he is planning some long term revenge.  

Anyhow I am looking for a wizard, warlock, witch, shaman, sherlock, sorceress, druid, enchantress or crystal-keeping-sage-smoking-energy-healing-pajama-pants-nitrous-huffing-pipe-playing-rainbow-traveler who can make me a human again.  I crave long armed tailless frivolity and non rodential touch. I don’t even care if I go back to being me. Help.

[scruffle scruffle sigh]

The squirrel that you kill in jest, dies in earnest. – Henry David Thoreau