How are you?
Sharon H.
> On Feb 19, 2017, at 12:04 PM, Vicki <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
> Too funny Sharon. I needed that today.
> Vicki
>
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: Sharon Hooley <[log in to unmask]>
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Date: Saturday, February 18, 2017 11:22 am
> Subject: Fwd: [BlindLife] A Mad Squirrel (Fantastic - Humor)
>
>>
>>
>>>
>>> A Mad Squirrel
>>> Neighborhood Hazard (or: Why the Cops Won't Patrol Brice Street Anymore)
>>> If you need a laugh, here it is.
>>> Author: Daniel Meyer
>>> I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential
>>> neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous!
>>> Little did I suspect ...I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood
>>> with perfect lawns and slow traffic.
>>> As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it
>>> and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me.
>>> It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it
>>> encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time
>>> to brake or avoid it -- it was that close.
>>> I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a
>>> squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the
>>> impact.
>>> Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of
>>> themselves!
>>> Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on
>>> his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his
>>> little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he
>>> screamed and leapt!
>>> I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Bonzai!" or maybe, "Die you
>>> gravy-sucking, heathen scum!"
>>> The leap was nothing short of spectacular ... as he shot straight up, flew
>>> over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest.
>>> Instantly, he set upon me.
>>> If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little
>>> buddies along for the attack.
>>> Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity.
>>> As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans
>>> this was a bit of a cause for concern.
>>> This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
>>> Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a
>>> T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet
>>> residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel.
>>> And losing...
>>> I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed
>>> to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the
>>> left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the
>>> throw.
>>> That should have done it.
>>> The matter should have ended right there.
>>> It really should have.
>>> The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and
>>> gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have
>>> been the wiser.
>>> But this was no ordinary squirrel.
>>> This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel.
>>> This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH !
>>> Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with
>>> the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an
>>> amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather
>>> antisocial and extremely distracting activities.
>>> He also managed to take my left glove with him!
>>> The situation was not improved.
>>> Not improved at all.
>>> His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.
>>> I was startled to say the least.
>>> The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the
>>> throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a
>>> healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist
>>> on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what
>>> the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.
>>> The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement.
>>> The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed
>>> in ... well ... I just plain screamed.
>>> Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in
>>> jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn-t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and
>>> roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential
>>> street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back.
>>> The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.
>>> With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the
>>> handlebars and try to get control of the bike.
>>> This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did
>>> not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had
>>> not yet figured out how to release the throttle ... my brain was just simply
>>> overloaded.
>>> I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the
>>> massive power of the big cruiser.
>>> About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient
>>> attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is an evil mutant NAZI
>>> attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my
>>> full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing
>>> in my face.
>>> I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity.
>>> It had little effect on the squirrel, however.
>>> The RPMs on The Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at
>>> the moment) so her front end started to drop.
>>> Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in
>>> jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring
>>> at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail
>>> sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet.
>>> By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
>>> Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled
>>> him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could.
>>> This time it worked ... sort-of.
>>> Spectacularly sort-of . so to speak.
>>> Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on
>>> a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some
>>> paperwork.
>>> Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a
>>> torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove,
>>> moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by
>>> and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your
>>> police car.
>>> I heard screams. They weren't mine...
>>> I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front
>>> wheel to the ground.
>>> I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke
>>> at the stop sign of a busy cross street.
>>> I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back).
>>> I really would have.
>>> Really.
>>> Except for two things.
>>> First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about
>>> me at the moment.
>>> When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung
>>> wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab
>>> walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car.
>>> The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street and was
>>> aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.
>>> So the cops were not interested in me.
>>> They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway.
>>> That was one thing.
>>> The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and
>>> upholstery from the back seat.
>>> But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his
>>> little fist at me.
>>> That is one dangerous squirrel.
>>> And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car ... but it was
>>> all his.
>>> I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off
>>> of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood I decided it was best to
>>> just buy myself a new pair of gloves.
>>> And some Band-Aids.
>>>
>>>
>>> Whoa!
>>> With Best Regards,
>>> God Bless,
>>> Alan
>>> Plantation, Florida
>>>
>>> This is our prayer
>>> Holy God, thank you for Jesus, our Savior.
>>> No words are adequate to express our love and devotion to you for such an
>>> incredible gift!
>>> Through him we give and live our thanks to you.
>>> Amen.
>>>
>>>
>>> --
>>> Important notice.
>>> You can use our conference line to participate, and ask questions.
>>> 508.957.3530.
>>> At the first prompt to connect to our conference line: press 1.
>>> At the second pronpt press access code: 165643874#
>>> Normal long-distance charges apply where applicable.
>>>
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>>> _._,_._,_
>>
>>
>>
>> A Mad Squirrel
>> Neighborhood Hazard (or: Why the Cops Won't Patrol Brice Street Anymore)
>> If you need a laugh, here it is.
>> Author: Daniel Meyer
>> I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential
>> neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous!
>> Little did I suspect ...I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood
>> with perfect lawns and slow traffic.
>> As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it
>> and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me.
>> It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it
>> encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time
>> to brake or avoid it -- it was that close.
>> I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a
>> squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the
>> impact.
>> Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of
>> themselves!
>> Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on
>> his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his
>> little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he
>> screamed and leapt!
>> I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Bonzai!" or maybe, "Die you
>> gravy-sucking, heathen scum!"
>> The leap was nothing short of spectacular ... as he shot straight up, flew
>> over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest.
>> Instantly, he set upon me.
>> If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little
>> buddies along for the attack.
>> Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity.
>> As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans
>> this was a bit of a cause for concern.
>> This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
>> Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a
>> T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet
>> residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel.
>> And losing...
>> I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed
>> to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the
>> left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the
>> throw.
>> That should have done it.
>> The matter should have ended right there.
>> It really should have.
>> The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and
>> gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have
>> been the wiser.
>> But this was no ordinary squirrel.
>> This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel.
>> This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH !
>> Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with
>> the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an
>> amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather
>> antisocial and extremely distracting activities.
>> He also managed to take my left glove with him!
>> The situation was not improved.
>> Not improved at all.
>> His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.
>> I was startled to say the least.
>> The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the
>> throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a
>> healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist
>> on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what
>> the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.
>> The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement.
>> The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed
>> in ... well ... I just plain screamed.
>> Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in
>> jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn-t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and
>> roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential
>> street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back.
>> The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.
>> With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the
>> handlebars and try to get control of the bike.
>> This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did
>> not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had
>> not yet figured out how to release the throttle ... my brain was just simply
>> overloaded.
>> I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the
>> massive power of the big cruiser.
>> About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient
>> attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is an evil mutant NAZI
>> attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my
>> full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing
>> in my face.
>> I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity.
>> It had little effect on the squirrel, however.
>> The RPMs on The Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at
>> the moment) so her front end started to drop.
>> Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in
>> jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring
>> at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail
>> sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet.
>> By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
>> Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled
>> him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could.
>> This time it worked ... sort-of.
>> Spectacularly sort-of . so to speak.
>> Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on
>> a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some
>> paperwork.
>> Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a
>> torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove,
>> moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by
>> and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your
>> police car.
>> I heard screams. They weren't mine...
>> I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front
>> wheel to the ground.
>> I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke
>> at the stop sign of a busy cross street.
>> I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back).
>> I really would have.
>> Really.
>> Except for two things.
>> First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about
>> me at the moment.
>> When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung
>> wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab
>> walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car.
>> The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street and was
>> aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.
>> So the cops were not interested in me.
>> They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway.
>> That was one thing.
>> The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and
>> upholstery from the back seat.
>> But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his
>> little fist at me.
>> That is one dangerous squirrel.
>> And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car ... but it was
>> all his.
>> I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off
>> of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood I decided it was best to
>> just buy myself a new pair of gloves.
>> And some Band-Aids.
>>
>>
>> Whoa!
>> With Best Regards,
>> God Bless,
>> Alan
>> Plantation, Florida
>>
>> This is our prayer
>> Holy God, thank you for Jesus, our Savior.
>> No words are adequate to express our love and devotion to you for such an
>> incredible gift!
>> Through him we give and live our thanks to you.
>> Amen.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>> --
>> Important notice.
>> You can use our conference line to participate, and ask questions.
>> 508.957.3530.
>> At the first prompt to connect to our conference line: press 1.
>> At the second pronpt press access code: 165643874#
>> Normal long-distance charges apply where applicable.
>>
>>
>> _._,_._,_
>>
>>
>> Groups.io Links:
>> You receive all messages sent to this group.
>> View/Reply Online (#2354) | Reply To Group | Reply To Sender | Mute This Topic | New Topic
>>
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