Ach, ye want tae hear what happened next, eh? Well, sit yerself doon, ‘cause it only gets wilder, ye ken!
So, a week after those wee, thievin’ squirrels ransacked me hoose, I thought I was done wi’ the lot of ‘em. But nae—turns out, they were plannin’ somethin’. Squirrels dinnae forget, and these furry fiends had unfinished business.
I’m in me kitchen, tryin’ to make meself a nice cuppa, when I hear a scritch-scritch-scratch at the door. Now, I know that sound well. I freeze, spoon mid-air, and think, Nae again. But sure as the heather on the hills, when I peek oot the window, there’s that same ringleader from before—big bushy tail twitchin’, eyes glintin’ like a madman wi’ a grudge.
Before I can blink, BAM! The door flies open! How they managed it, I dinnae ken. Must’ve learned tae jimmy locks. These squirrels were nae ordinary rodents—they were a coordinated force, aye, a furry militia.
They came in waves. First tae storm the kitchen, knockin’ over the sugar jar, scatterin’ it like snow. I screamed, “Ye’ll nae take me sugar, ye heathens!” but one of ‘em looks me dead in the eye and dunks his wee face right into the sugar like it was his birthright. The audacity!
Then they spread oot, laddie, like maraudin’ Vikings. One of the cheeky devils had the gall tae hop up on me counter and start rummagin’ through me bread bin. I shout, “Och! Ye better nae lay a paw on me rolls, ye wee menace!” But sure enough, he’s sittin’ there munchin’ away, crumbs flyin’ like confetti.
I grab me broom again, swearin’ vengeance, swingin’ like a man possessed. “Out wi’ ye! Out, ye scoundrels!” But these blighters were nae scared this time—they were organized, like they’d had a strategy meetin’ in the trees. One squirrel darts left while another distracts me by runnin' circles around me legs. It was pure pandemonium!
And then it happened—the real disaster. As I’m fightin’ tae defend me territory, I hear a strange, ominous clatter upstairs. I think, Nae, it cannae be. But sure enough, the sneakiest of the lot had made their way into me attic! There’s bangin’, crashin’—sounds like they’re settin’ up a full-on squirrel fortress up there. By this point, I’m red in the face, sweatin’ buckets, and shoutin’ so loud I’m sure the neighbors thought I’d gone mad.
I race up the stairs, two at a time, broom in hand like a knight wi’ a sword, ready to reclaim me attic. I burst through the door, and there they are—midway through buildin' some kind o’ cursed squirrel stronghold out o’ me Christmas decorations and old boxes. One’s sittin’ in a Santa hat, lookin’ smug as ye like!
I bellow, “This is war, ye wee fur-covered demons! OUT! OUTTA ME HOOSE!” But the squirrels, ach, they just scatter about, like they’re mockin’ me, leavin’ a mess o’ baubles and tinsel behind as they flee back tae their trees.
By the end, the hoose was a disaster zone—sugar everywhere, crumbs ground intae the carpet, Christmas garlands hangin’ from the ceilin’. I stood in the wreckage, broom in hand, and vowed, “Next time... next time, ye little monsters, I’ll be ready. I’ll have traps, I’ll have nets, I’ll have the lot!”
But tae this day, I still find squirrel fur stuck in me sofa, and I swear, every now and then, I catch a glimpse o’ their beady eyes watchin’ me from the trees... plottin’ their next move.
Mark me words—they’ll be back. But so will I.
....So they stole your Christmas decorations and used 'em before Halloween's even started?
Oh naaaah, those squirrels are menaces. You gotta get revenge just for that alone.
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
romaincrisis
