Close Quarter Combat…I Was There* posted 6/22/2007 6:13:30 PM | 18 kudos what's this?     report abuse tagged: no clue

PullMyFinger

It was a lazy day, sunny with a gentle breeze; all in all, a beautiful day here in SE Michigan. It was early afternoon, Sciurusniger was off at work saving the planet from rogue computer servers threatening to nuke each other. I sat my ass down for a little while, watching TV in the den and shoveling blazing hot Cheeto’s into my pie-hole when all hell broke loose. A crash sounded, glass was breaking, the house shuddered with the impact. Being of the coppage, I immediately armed myself with a Sig-Sauer P220 45 loaded with silver tip ammo. The house’s perimeter had been breached and I certainly wasn’t going to let a punk-ass shit-stain get any further without meeting his worst fkn nightmare. I slowly made my way down the hall, checking the living room and dining room first, my body flattened against the wall, the Sig extended in front of me, chambered. Sounds of breaking glass continued from the kitchen, just off to my right. I crouched low, slowly approaching the door, doing my best to keep the wood floors from creaking underfoot. Still low, I peered around the corner and into the kitchen, ready to confront the intruder. It’s been awhile since I had to do an entry like this, and I wasn’t armed with an M-16 or protected by Kevlar. The element of surprise was mandatory. The kitchen has two doors on each side, not including this one leading into the dining room. One of those doors leads to the front door, the other to the basement; another door there leads outside to the driveway and side yard. That door is made of glass, backed by another door of wood. I had left that wood door open earlier.

I didn’t see anything in the kitchen, but I could hear movement. I slowly approached the doorway leading to the basement, checking the front door in the process, nothing. I needed to clear the space behind the wall leading to the living room, but the basement door needed attention first, fearing an assault from that direction, it needed to be cleared. It was there, near the basement landing, that I was attacked.

My life flashed before my eyes; my childhood, my daughter; her impending marriage, Sci’s little dimply ass, it all flashed by so quickly. With blood in its eyes, a monstrous fox squirrel went for my throat; ok, maybe not my throat, but it was damn near my ankle. This squirrel was the size of a Doberman fkn Pincher. It stopped its assault and looked up at me with a “WTF are you doing here?” sneer. Once my heart started beating again and the shit solidified in my shorts, I asked Mr. Squirrel “Just WTF do YOU think you’re doing?” It was a few moments before I realized that most squirrels can’t talk, but I let the question hang just in case this little fker had learned something from Disney flicks. It continued to sneer, breaking out in a grin like something that just escaped from the bowels of Hell, spit out a shelled walnut, grabbed its rather large rodent balls with his right front paw, flipped me off with the other, bared its teeth and growled. Well, violate my ass with a 2x4 but that was enough for me and a barely audible squeak emanated from a very dark place in my colon. I certainly can’t shoot it, it could be an escapee from the upstairs squirrel room, or a personal friend of Sci’s and besides, once Sci found out I’d be a dead fkr anyway. It was then that Mr. Squirrel decided this wasn’t a good time to have me for a snack and leaped to the window ledge and made its escape through a hole it had chewed through the screen, leaving disaster in its wake; broken planters, broken glasses in the sink and a pair of skidmarked Fruit of the Looms. “Sci’s gonna have my balls, I just let one of her charges escape from the house!” Wait a minute, first of all, they don’t escape, they’re caged and what the fk is a hole doing in the screen?

Well, after a frantic call to Sci it was apparent that this was a Ninja Squirrel from outside and not a resident of Sci’s rehabilitation center. It could have been one of Sci’s covert operatives that I THINK she’s training for eventual world domination. She refused further comment on the matter and directed me to her Public Information Officer.

I was a hunter for years. I’ve presided over organizations like Safari Club International and others. I’ve hunted here in the states, South America, Africa, South Africa, Australia, Great Britain, Canada and hunting of another sort in places the tourist bureaus rarely send clients. I’ve faced Cape buffalo in Africa, Brownies in Alaska (the bear kind, not the beret wearing kind) and mountain lions in California, Utah and Nevada. I no longer partake in the hunting of wildlife, but the instinct remains. I’ve since traded Remington 700’s for cameras and lenses. I’m certainly not unaccustomed to facing danger of the critter kind. I’ve been a tracker and an animal damage control guy in half a dozen states. I’ve seen the Elephant so to speak. I was so damn good at this stuff that I’ve written for most of the major hunting publications and have been involved with dozens of videos on the hunting and tracking of some of the most dangerous land-dwelling predators on the planet. I’ve also been involved with the tagging of Mako sharks off the coast of Southern California, where one false move and you’re fish chum.

Today, I had my ass handed to me by a fox squirrel...but it was a big fkn squirrel. So much for being the Great White Hunter.

Nancy Boy....

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