If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine.

It's official. My paranoia is real.

Today a squirrel pretty much threatened my existence. If you think I'm exaggerating then you need to come over to where I live, sit in a lawn chair and watch me walk around the courtyard. Well, that's what we call it. I'm sure other people call it a patch of grass, but my Victorian sensibilities give me credence to call it a courtyard.

Well, if you do watch me walking around the courtyard, it becomes fascinatingly scary. You might actually fear for my life. Especially when I'm walking my tiny dog, Monty:

And I'm more scared for Monty because A) He is about the same size and build as a squirrel and B) He has a shirt (yes - we dress him up occasionally for torture) that says "Squirrels...they're not just for breakfast anymore!" You might scoff at that last reason, but I think god may in fact have a really sophisticated sense of humor and would jump at the chance to make that statement the ultimate irony. So I'm genuinely scared.

But back to the one squirrel. He was just sitting up in a tree, making weird grunting, high-pitched noises at me. And this isn't the first time. I don't know if it was the same squirrel (they all look alike. I know, I'm such a racist) but this happened to me last week. I tried to feign like I was going to lunge at him, but alas, I must have been too far away for him (or her. I'm not one to impose masculine dominance - maybe the females wear the pants in this species? I would wikipedia it, but I don't want my internet search history to come up saying "female squirrel dominance" when the government, aka Obama, takes away all of our freedoms and forces us into slave labor camps to make free first aid kits for the poor) to really give a damn because he didn't flinch. Or maybe he was just that ballsy.

And then it got more creepy - I started seeing squirrels everywhere. It quickly became that scene from The Birds where all of the birds are just watching them drive away, patiently waiting for the kill. I saw one on a window ledge. A couple of them were running around the parking lot, playing. My theory was they were a distraction. I picked up the pace and was tugging Monty along when all he wanted to do was chew on some stick. Sorry, buddy, but I'm not letting you get killed today. Maggie would be really upset.

It's only a matter of time before they really start to gather and start plotting their revenge. Yes, revenge. For what? Who the hell knows? Maybe they blame us for less trees or global warming or the continued, baffling career of Channing Tatum, but it's definitely for revenge. But I will be prepared. I'm already browsing the self-defense section on Amazon, tagging things for my wish list (did you know you can buy a self-defense bat? I guess a regular baseball bat only works on petty thugs, not, you know, felonious thugs) and of course, buying a gun. It's my right! And that right extends to unleashing a rain of bullets from above onto unsuspecting, but definitely nefarious squirrels. See you in hell, you furry bag of cute!

*If I am found dead for any reason in the next month, please forward this to the proper authorities. They may have seeped into our culture as cute and educational, but don't let that fool you! It's propaganda!