If my husband sees a a squirrel at one of his bird feeders or in his vegetable garden, he’ll yell, “Son of a bitch,” and go tearing after it. When he comes back he tells me he how much he hates those furry little bastards. I thought his obsession with them was over the top and I’ve told him so, but they eat his bird seed and tomatoes and he’s out for revenge. One summer he trapped ’em and drove ’em out of town to reside in a new zip code. Like every single day.
I took the car in for some routine maintenance and when they lifted the air filter it was full of acorns. Seems those furry little bastards like the engine of my car when they’re cold. Tough shit, ya freeloaders. I’m not going to let that happen so I’ve teamed up with my husband. You could say we’re a NATO force in the War on Squirrels.
If those furry little bastards were nervous around my husband wait until I get a hold of them. Sarah Palin may have coined the “Grizzly Mama” term (and believe me, I hate to give her credit for anything but being a gold digger) but I’m going to show him how it’s done.
My old man make look crazy when he’s out there screaming at those furry little bastards. I am crazy.