Sacrifices to the Squirrel Goddess

So I'm going to let you in on a secret. I didn't want to tell you before because I wanted to preserve some fiction that I am sane, but you've probably seen through that by now. So here it is. I'm a goddess. To squirrels.

No. Really. I am.

I am the Goddess of Death and every once in awhile a squirrel will sacrifice itself to me.

The first was during a golf game. I was walking along with friends, stepped down and the ground felt all soft and wiggly and squeaked. I jumped, dropped my clubs, and made a squeaking (or possibly screaming) noise myself. I looked down and there was a ground squirrel lying on its back, with the light of death in its black eyes. It clawed frantically at the air while blood gushed from its otherwise adorable little mouth. We watched as it clawed against its fate until it finally bit it.

Yeah. My game was a little off for the rest of the afternoon. (Okay, my golf game has never actually been on, but anyway.)

I think the squirrels realized this event rather traumatized their goddess because they never killed themselves in that way again. About a month later another tried. I was walking through a park and it must have mistimed because all of a sudden I felt fur on my foot and this little ground squirrel goes sailing into the air and lands about 5 feet away. It popped back up and went running off, squeaking "Chee chee chee chee chee chee chee chee chee." After that I refused to walk in grass for about a year.

Since then I've had them run into my car, dart in front of my bicycle tire, and drop dead from a tree. You thought I was kidding about this whole business, didn't you? I'm not. Elephants go to a graveyard, skunks go to the road, and squirrels come to me.

So it happened again the other day. I was driving down the road when this squirrel came running full tilt out of the ditch and into the road. I couldn't swerve. I didn't have time to. I barely saw it before I heard the wet thunk of it hitting the car.

I checked the rear view mirror, hoping to see it alive and well and dashing back for the ditch. (Stupid hope, but I'm not always that bright anyway.) I was expecting to see the furry splat in the road. Instead I saw nothing. Just the dead leaves blowing in my wake.

Crap, I thought. It's stuck to my car.

I got to where I was going and sure enough, there's its broken, little body, hanging from under my car.

Right. Okay then.

I don't know what to do and I'm late for my class, so I decide to ignore it and maybe it will go away. I come back a few hours later and its still there, but now it's stiff and the blood is drying. Rigor mortised squirrel. Ick.

Not having any better ideas, I decide to get back in the car and go home and hope that the little beastie will dislodge itself en route so I don't have to...you know, deal with it myself. And I'm wondering if the car wash down the road from me will charge extra to dislodge the squirrel.

I purposely hit every pothole and bump I could find along the way to try to jog it loose. I couldn't see it in any of my mirrors (I tried) so I just had to hope it was gone. Anyway, I got home and there was no dead rodent on my car anymore. Thanks to whichever of my fellow deities managed that one.

But what I really want to tell my squirrel worshipers is this: STOP THAT! I'm a benevolent deity. I don't want sacrifices. Gifts will suffice. Gold, silver, rubies, any of that will be just fine. For that matter, I'd be happy with adventurine and amethysts. I'm easy. I don't need to be the volcano you throw the virgins to anymore. It makes me sad.

Thanks.