You thought it was the stuff of fiction. You said it couldn’t happen here. You were wrong; dead wrong. Too bad you’re the President of the United States.
“Mr. President, holy crap!” said your spunky advisor Jason Sethfeld. “The Secretary of the Interior has been eaten by squirrels in his sleep! The Secretary of Defense thinks we should investigate, in case it’s a threat to our national security.” Foolishly, you dismissed him from your office. How soon you would come to regret your folly. Hardcore.
Before long, one third of the world’s population had been eaten by squirrels, and it was clear that something was wrong. Then, the gnawing began. First, strategic acorn reserves the world over were emptied by what appeared to be startlingly well-trained squirrel battalions. Then, the squirrels started breaking into houses, easily chewing through weak human walls with their fatal incisors.
You thought it must be the work of a madman hellbent on world control. Only Sherlock Holmes had the courage to speak up and say differently. “Even Watson has deduced that this is more than a simple squirrel madman case,” he told you, for once losing his cool. “It is simple deduction that the planet’s squirrels have somehow formed an uberintelligent hivemind, through which the ultimate aims of squirrelkind can be accomplished. How can you be so blind when the game is so clearly afoot!?”
In the final stage, the squirrels formed a giant ball and began rolling around the North American continent. Military installations were the first to go, and the weapon factories quickly followed. Everyone died. Hungry for blood, the squirrel-ball began floating towards Asia.
Fortunately, a mismatched but dynamic team of Japanese youth put aside their differences in order to work together to fight the squirrel menace. For some reason they already had custom-made squirrel-fighting equipment… Apparently, there was some videogame about that. You think Japanese culture is weird; they think that you are, on average, the size and weight of a VW Bus.
The human race may have survived this time, Mr. President, but maybe next time we won’t be so lucky. Also, you are dead. Fuck you.
This article was previously published in readme, which gets all the ladies.