I am Lil’Red, the Squirrel that got Drunk in Minnesota, and I Need to Clear my Name
Co written with Susan Sassi
“A Minnesota woman says she accidentally got the critter sloshed.” — Ron Dicker, for Huffpost
I’ve had it up to here with you drunk shaming me on the internet! “Squirrel Gets Drunk Because He Can’t Numb the Pain with Acorns.” You think you are soooo funny, don’t you? DON’T YOU! NO! YOU can’t handle quarantine. Stop projecting on me.
Yes, I got drunk. So what. I’m an adult rodent free to make my own decisions. This backlash is just exactly the sort of misplaced, big brother-ish oversight that is ruining this nation’s youth. Our society is too damn puritan. If I want to get drunk on fermented fruit and have a one night stand with a rock I mistook for another squirrel, that’s nobody’s damn business but my own.
Why, in my younger days, adult squirrels got day-drunk all the time and did anybody die? Well, yes. There was the regrettable incident with that one eagle, but then the eagle died of alcohol toxicity, so it evened out. No one used to care when we drank, except during that three month stint of squirrel prohibition.
May I never live to see another Squirrel prohibition.Thank Acorn that time is over. It was a dry time, a terrible time, filled with the sorts of days that would make the fur on your face stand on end. We had to turn tricks for the dogs to get any booze. And there was never enough. You couldn’t store the liquor in the ground to save it for winter or hide it from the damn racoons! (Freaking trash pandas.They think they are so high and mighty because they can open dumpster lids with their paws)
Anyway, Prohibition. Talk about going off our nut. Squirrels live 16 years if we’re lucky — we don’t have time to prohibit anything. Carpe diem! Now, we finally are allowed to drink and you have to go public shaming us on the internet. Maybe you should look in the mirror before throwing the first stone. Yeah, I’m talking about you, Bob. You ate so much pizza and drank so much beer since quarantine started, you can’t fit in your own pants.
Since when is recording me losing my balance and falling out of a tree a useful activity? How about you get a REAL hobby already? Remember all those skills you were going to learn back in March? What happened to those? That sourdough starter kit is molding so much it’s fermenting itself. Which reminds me. Learn to make better squirrel wine. This pear vintage was a little raw, if you know what I’m saying. I’m getting a distinct taste of bandaid, and frankly, you can do better.
And I hate to tell you, but you’re stingy. Why did you take all the pears away just when things were starting to get groovy? Next week is my birthday, and I’m throwing the hottest party this backyard has ever seen since the eagle incident of 2015. We squirrels don’t have quarantine rules to worry about. Just because you dummies didn’t sit and stay in your houses doesn’t mean we have to suffer. GIVE ME BACK THE PEAR JUICE.
Is watching me plummet from that death trap of a deck really that funny? Are you that sick in the head? I’ll have you know I pulled a muscle in my back and I’m suing you for pain and suffering and doxxing me on the internet. We’ll see who’s laughing when you pay for my chiropractor visits.
This thing isn’t over. This video was taken out of context to make me look like a drunken fool.
The full story hasn’t been told and I will be vindicated. Now give me another pear juice.