a nearly satisfactory hypermegaultraquantumcompumultiversalnet creation

Terrorist Suicide Attack Chipmunks

I was getting into my car to go to work when I saw a chipmunk scurry from under the car and into a nearby bush. I thought to myself "we can't be having any of that," tore off my suit coat, dropped my briefcase, and took chase.

The little bugger was running through the gladiolas my wife had recently planted along the side of the house as part of a neighborhood beautification project when he made the mistake of looking back to see where I was and ran full speed into the new central air conditioning unit we'd installed while building an addition to the house. I had been against central air conditioning, considering it a luxury that we couldn't really afford, but my wife, god bless her and the hives she breaks out into when she gets too hot, had insisted.

I bent over, grabbed the dazed chipmunk, and was straightening up when I felt an excruciatingly sharp jab in my left ankle. I looked down and, through tears of pain, saw a second chipmunk holding an orange lawn dart from our lawn dart set. Sure, I knew lawn darts were illegal, but they're such fun during family get-togethers. He was pulling it back for a second strike when Felix, our cat that my wife and I had compromised on after Angela, our oldest, had come home from school asking for a dog last month, pounced on him.

With the second chipmunk taken care of I grabbed the lawn dart before any of our neighbors could see it and tell the overly stern president of our neighborhood association about my violation and went into the garage. I closed the door behind me, there was dirty work to do.

I put the chipmunk in a vise my family had gotten me for Father's Day and slowly wiped my blood off the lawn dart before putting it away. The chipmunk was struggling for all he was worth but I had nothing but time on my side now. Felix came through the cat flap with what was left of the second chipmunk, dropped it at my feet, and stared up at the first chipmunk with predation in his eyes. I explained to the little terrorist critter what would happen to him if he didn't tell me everything. He glanced at Felix, nodded his furry little head, and spilled the beans.

Afterwards I let Felix have him anyway.

I picked up my briefcase and suit coat and got into the car to go to work. The car was actually a high-end Land Rover we had recently purchased to pull the boat we bought for the lake our new summer cabin was on. The Land Rover usually handled pretty well but the brakes seemed a bit squishy, and then I remembered that I'd seen the first chipmunk scurrying away from under the car. He must have chewed through the brake lines.

Furry little bastard. I killed him too quickly.

I was coming to an intersection and tried the brakes again - the pedal went all the way to the floor this time. I looked for the emergency brake or a way to shift the transmission into a lower gear but the Land Rover was so new that I couldn't figure out how to do either of those things. I flew into the intersection and was sideswiped by a semi delivering fuel to gas stations.

Oh cruel fate!

My last thought as I was consumed by flame was, "you may have won this round, terrorist suicide attack chipmunks, but as long as there is one American left to fight your tyranny of terror, you will not win the war!"