Whooee! Well friends, there comes a time when a man's gotta take a stand fer what's right an' good; a time when you stop the foreign rats from invadin' yer home; a time when you root out the evil sleeper cells who's bent on destroyin' yer way o' life. Fer JimBobby, that time's now. I'm declarin' a War on Squirrels. The vermin rodents has infiltrated my happy home an' it's only a matter o' time before they destroy my whole damn way o' life.
Now, outside o' my shack there's still snow piled up but there's a hint o' Spring pokin' in. The wild geese's honkin' overhead. There's been a flock or two o' Tundra Swans dropped in down t' the ponds. There's sum muddy spots in the soybean field where ol' Spot an' I wander most days. There's a few ol' codgers an' blue-haired ladies creepin' along the sidewalks now that the ice is mostly melted off.
An' dammit, the bushy-tailed rats is movin' inta JimBobby's walls lookin' fer a spot t' set up housekeepin' an' raise up a litter o' terrizing, scratchin', chewin', scrabblin' baby bushy-tails. I aim t' fight fer what's mine an' I already started.
Last Sunday afternoon, 9 or 10 days ago, I hadta get up offa my comfy computer chair an' go down t' the TSC Store an' buy me a live squirrel catchin' trap. Shee-it! It costed me eighty bucks. I set the sumbitchin' trap in the attic all baited up with Skippy Chunky-style an' waited fer the terrist rat t' get hisself snared. Haffway through the week when I hadn't caught nothin', I crawled up in that godfersaken attic stuffed with itchy pink insulation an' moved the trap closer t' where all the damn scratchin' an' chewin' sounds're comin' from. I reckon my $80 is down the tubes cause I still ain't captured a single terrist infiltrator.
Early this very mornin' a terrist rat was awake from its sleeper mode an' it launched itself a full terrist attack. It weren't even six o'clock an Ma was poundin' on the floorboards an' slappin' at the plaster tryin' t' put sum fear inta the rotten, homeland-invadin' vermin. I reckon them terrist squirrels is highly motivated an' they ain't quittin' their evil ways jest on accounta sum sabre-rattlin' from Ma or me.
Sum folks sez I oughta jest poison the bastards an' it ain't outta kindness that I don't. My Uncle Burp poisoned hisself a rat inside the house an' the sumbitch crawled up inside an ol' chesterfield an' died an' stunk t' high heaven. Least when a stinkin' corpse is in a chesterfield you can burn the damn chesterfield. If I get a buncha stinkin' terrist squirrel corpses in between my walls an' up in the ceilin', I'd hafta burn down the house. Then the terrists woulda won, sez I.
Well, dammit, I hadta get out first thing an' fire up the chugmobile an' drive all the way back 12 miles t' the TSC. This time, I worked up a new battle plan involvin' drillin' holes an' pourin' in sum Critter Ridder crystals. This here is Plan B since the $80 trap in the attic din't do diddly. Ma used this here Critter Ridder powder t' keep the sumbitches outta her flower boxes last Summer an' it worked like a charm.
Here's a pitcher o' sum o' the weapons I'm usin' in the War on Squirrels -
The way the plan works (if it works) is I drilled sum haff-inch holes here an' there near where we all been hearin' the terrist sleeper cell when it ain't sawin' logs but when it's chawin' on 2x4's. I bored me sum holes anglin' down inta the baseboards an' sum straight down inta the bedroom floorboards over top o' the livin' room ceilin'. Then I stuck the funnel in an' poured in the Critter Ridder an' stuck a pencil down in an' give it a stir fer dispersin' it all around. Then, fer the coop of grace, I shoved sum corks inta the seven holes I drilled inta my shack walls an' floor.
Next step in the War on Squirrels is lookin' all 'round the borders o' my little shack an' tryin' t' see where the sumbitches is gettin' though my border defenses. I already gotta coupla suspicious spots where I'm gonna staple sum heavy screenwire t' keep the terrist bastards from infiltratin'. Right now, I'm jest waitin' fer the rats t' come out an' do their daily acorn shoppin' on accounta I ain't too keen on mebbe screenin' 'em in instead o' screenin' 'em out.
Worst part o' the screen staplin' other than cuttin' up my lily-whites with that sharp jaggy screenwire is that I gotta climb up on the ladder out in the icy damn snow an' poke around up 20 feet in the air. Runnin' 'round little wee tree branches an' rooftops is sumpin' the squirrels been taught from birth in their terrist trainin' camps. It's not the kinda warfare human bein's is used to an' them terrists can get the drop on us, so wish me luck.
I figger this is a war that mebbe ain't never gonna end. If I can jest keep my own homeland safe from the evil vermin, I'll have won a big battle. If I could rid the whole damn town o' these terrist rats, it'd be a major victory in the War on Squirrels. If I can figger out which one of 'em is the ringleader an' ship that sumbitch off t' Syria or Gitmo, I reckon the others'll all run around willy-nilly an' we can pick 'em off with BB guns an' a few good coalie dogs.