The Squirrels are Not What They Seem

The other day I woke up, logged on, and realized I was sane. It sucked. There I was, alone upon the great superhighway of information known as the Information Superhighway, without a conspiracy theory to call my own. Black helicopters did not spray mysterious substances around my campus, the CIA was not monitoring my thoughts, and my professors were not using hypnosis and backmasking to convince sorority chicks to commit unnatural acts. I had no single overriding theory with which to wrap my resentments into a neat enchilada of angst. Until I stumbled onto the most menacing, shadowy, unstoppable conspiracy of them all.

The squirrels were my first suspects, of course. I’d known that the campus squirrels were evil ever since an incident in 1998 in which two dead baby squirrels turned up on my friend Carol’s balcony. I don’t know why the squirrels would send Carol such a gruesome warning. She denies being involved in any acorn smuggling. Whatever the reason, though, it was clear that a species that would sacrifice its own children to terrify its enemies was a force to be reckoned with. More than that, they were obviously no mere rodents, as science would have us believe. I realized that biologists at many major universities must be in league with these squirrels, covering up for their evil intelligence by putting them in the same class as Mickey Mouse.

And speaking of Mickey Mouse, why would Disney portray these horrible creatures as ‘cute’ to our children in films like Bambi? Did the liberal media have some kind of stake in the squirrels’ dastardly plot? I decided to cut class and wander the campus, looking for more clues.

I soon confirmed my darkest suspicions. The squirrels, it appeared, often lived in trees. Now I knew the true reason behind the ‘tree-hugging’ liberal-pinko environmental movement. It wasn’t to save the world. It was to protect the squirrels.

What’s more, I observed that all the squirrels populating our campus were grey. At first this puzzled me, since the squirrels ought to have a vested interest in looking cute and pretty to human eyes. They should be fluffy and white, or have cow spots. Obviously, the color grey had some hidden meaning.

Perhaps it was a sign of allegiance. Could the squirrels be remnants of a Confederate army, poised to help the South rise again? I toyed with the idea before remembering that rednecks ate squirrels. Such an alliance was clearly impossible.

Then I remembered that UFO and close-encounter investigators often referred to X-files style noseless aliens as ‘greys’. The light dawned. Aliens were controlling the squirrel agenda! But what agenda? I was no closer to discovering this than ever, and feared that I might never know. They were being demonically clever.

I stopped to pick up the campus paper. Sure enough, the liberal media had plastered a ‘cute’ picture of a squirrel onto the front page. I considered writing an angry letter to the editor. Then I realized that I was staring at a valuable clue. The squirrel was nibbling a piece of a leftover bagel on top of a Dumpster behind the dining hall.

The bagels in our dining hall are terrible; if you fed one to a squirrel yourself you’d probably be charged with cruelty to animals. Yet this squirrel was voluntarily subjecting himself to a dining hall bagel, and a stale one with rancid cream cheese no less. Obviously, this animal had once had access to fresh, tasty bagels, and now yearned for them in vain. This was a New York City squirrel.

A squirrel from New York City - the home of the United Nations!

Things were becoming plain now. Clearly, these squirrels had been trained by the aliens and then sent to New York to assist the UN in their well-documented plans to take over America and form a New World Order. What the UN didn’t realize was that the squirrels and the aliens would no doubt soon turn on them and seize power, placing the whole world under rodent dominion.

Only one question remained in my mind. Why had the squirrels been moved from UN headquarters out on to campus? Clearly it couldn’t be a desire to prevent an uprising by college students when the plan went into action - even a squirrel could figure out that it would only take an airdrop of weed and Monty Python videos to quench our resistance.

A squirrel scampered up the brick siding of the Administration building. Somewhere on the third floor, someone had scattered sunflower seeds on the windowsill, which the squirrel began to eat.

Of course. Clever and powerful though the squirrels and their allies are, they could do nothing without money. And do any of us really know where all of our tuition money goes? It’s sure as hell not being used to get high-quality bagels for the dining hall.

Ah, the inhumanity of it all. We, the young people of this brave and freedom-loving land, are inadvertently funding evil aliens with our parents’ money and our federal grants and the sweat of our work-study. The aliens are using the squirrels to assist them in their plan to take over the world. The media, the scientific establishment, and the environmental movement are all in league with them.

I returned to my dorm in a cold sweat. What could I do? Who could I turn to, with all of our major institutions already corrupted? I heard a menacing chatter, and turned. To my horror, a squirrel was clinging to the ivy outside my window. They were already on to me. Only by taking the most drastic actions could I hope to survive. I needed to get out of their reach and defend myself until the world could be made to see the terror that was confronting it.

And that, Your Honor, is how I ended up in the clock tower with a squirrel gun.