City animals aren't afraid anymore. While I'm sure they were never timid (growing up in the city must produce gritty animals as much as it does gritty people), they're now becoming entirely unshakeable. Aren't small animals supposed to fear big things? It's a great source of an undeserved sense of power. *It was.
Yesterday, a rat ran almost-over my shoe. A few months ago I tried to chase a pigeon away and it straight up ignored me. These animals are sick of living in subway dregs and/or having their various nature-homes constantly inundated with trash. And they're coming for us. Possibly equipped with genetic mutations.
Today as I was sitting in Washington Square Park, I saw a demon squirrel. It was pitch black with beady yellow eyes. I've seen it before, and it scared me the last time, too. I hoped that it would scamper away like a normal squirrel, but of course, it didn't. Because it's not. Instead, brandishing its little squirrel claws at me, it advanced. No, really, like on its hind legs. I was especially fearful of being targeted because I happened to be eating a bagel at the time. Because I didn't want it to sense my fear, I started laughing. But it must have sensed the nervous nature of it because it jumped up next to me on the bench, all the hairs raised on its back like a crazed, tiny monster. It finally left after some aggressive eye contact and went off to terrorize a young couple across the path, who didn't seem to take much notice.
As I was finishing my morning nosh in peace, I realized that no one seemed to care about the squirrel besides myself. The fearlessness of this rodent was met with no reaction. Such an unusual display of behavior should have at least elicited some disconcerted laughter from someone. Come on, people.
So I think we should form more of a brotherhood. Because you never know what the government could be doing to our squirrels, and when they turn against us, we can only conquer them as a team.
Good thing I had a pocketknife.
-Beast
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