Like a squirrel
murderer!
I yam truly
evil. My dreams this evening will be haunted by vengeance seeking squirrel armies, armed with big, sharp teeth and hot with blood lust.
EDIT:
Picture the scene: In the quiet dark of a deserted warehouse, alone now office hours are over Sepher makes his way across the mezzanine to make his umpteenth coffee of the day, a little jolt needed for the small pile of work there have not yet been enough hours in the day to complete, sick of finding his to-do list hanging over from evening to morning. Between ringing footfalls on the steel floor a scrape, a rasp of wood against steel perhaps, or maybe, just maybe a tiny claw on concrete. Freezing motionless for a moment Sepher strains to hear the sounds of twilight. There it is again, faint but unmistakeable. Stealthy as a very stealthy thing Sepher creeps to the edge of the mezzanine and looks down, surveying the shadowed expanse of the warehouse below.
Movement, sharp as a knife. Creeping from the shadows towards the pile of muesli ringed with marker pen for just this purpose, out comes our squirrel, apparently unharmed, and seizes what may well be the fat, juicy raisin at the centre Sepher left strategically as the most enticing offering he could think of. All is well. Sepher smiles, relieved that he is not a squirrel murderer after all, but realises he is now faced with a further problem: how to get said squirrel from the shadows among the racks of steel and cardboard boxes to freedom. Sepher returns to his desk to ponder on this some more, making sure at least the fire exit is open should our woodland visitor wish to avail himself of the emergency exits . . . . .